"Yes—and I dare say I was in need of a more sympathetic spirit," said Rowena thoughtfully. "I have always laughed too much. I laugh at myself now. You want to know about our shooting. Ted has let it, I am afraid."
They began to talk over estate matters, and then about sport in general. He seemed in no hurry to go; and presently began to revert to his own state of health.
"I am only here to patch myself up," he said. "But they've chucked me out of the army—let me retire as Major-General. I suppose I ought to feel my life is over; but my brain is sound, and it makes me rage at times. What shall I do with myself here? Only vegetate."
"Oh, no; if you are a reader, you won't do that. It's wonderful how much fuller we can store our brains than we do! I cannot fill my empty cells fast enough! Have you any hobbies?"
He shook his head.
"I'm a reader of sorts. I couldn't have lived through my eighteen months without books."
Then Rowena said suddenly: "Have you seen your child?"
His brows contracted.
"No. I've told her nurse I'll see her in a day or two. I've been busy. Children aren't in my line."
"She's a little person of much character," said Rowena slowly. "I don't want to be an interfering meddler, but you'll gain by her acquaintance. I have."
He raised his eyebrows and then smiled.
"I am talking to you like an old friend. If you had been well and jolly, I should have cut and run. I have taken a dislike to my fellow-creatures, especially the sound and healthy ones. And to my disgust I'm nervy—children would get on my nerves. I'll see her when I feel fitter. You consider me an inhuman parent, I can see."
"No, only an ignorant one," said Rowena. "Your little daughter has made some of my worst days very bright."
"Women always worship babies."
"She is companionable, you will find."
His brows did not relax; he leant back in his chair and drew a long breath.
"Her existence brings back some bad times. Her mother hated me, you know. It was the first thing she said to me after the birth of the child. We couldn't pull together, though God knows I tried hard. And poor Evie was forced by her mother to marry me, I heard afterwards. Well, she didn't have a long time with me, poor soul!"
Then he pulled himself up. "I am getting garrulous. I don't generally give way to such personal reminiscences, but I want to explain my want of interest in the child. I was always told she was the picture of her mother."
"But my good man," said Rowena quickly, "bodies may resemble each other, but very seldom souls. And Mysie is—well, I will leave you to find out. This much I will tell you, that she is hungering for your interest and affection. Give her a chance—and yourself too."
He did not reply for a few minutes; then he said rather irrelevantly: "You say you're a reader. Have you enough books to keep you occupied? Because my father bequeathed to me a very fine library. I have been overhauling it and can lend you anything you want."
"Oh, how truly kind!"
With animation Rowena began discussing books, and half an hour slipped by before her visitor attempted to make a move.
He would not stay to tea. As he stood up, he looked down at Rowena with some softness in his grey eyes.
"You don't want to be bucked up," he said, "for you are the essence of cheerfulness. When I have my bad bouts of pain, I think of the thousands of paralysed bedridden young men who have had their health and strength taken from them with one fell swoop in the war, and feel an old crock like myself has no right to grouse. I have done my work, and am wanted by no one!"
"You are wanted by your child!" said Rowena firmly.
He gave a short laugh.
"What a pertinacious woman you are! Are you bored by visitors? May I walk over again, and bring you the books you want?"
"Yes, certainly. I shall be delighted. And then you can give me your impressions of Mysie!"
He departed, but Rowena gave a little sigh as she looked after him and noted the tired bend of his shoulders, and his rather uncertain steps.
"Poor lonely unhappy man!" she murmured. "Why, Shags, you and I must try to bring some zest for living into his soul. I rather fancy Mysie will have a say in that."
Shags cocked one ear and looked wise. He had already had some experience of Mysie. She had certainly contributed towards his pleasure, for she and he invariably had a romp together when she came over.
Two or three days passed. Then one morning Mysie arrived over on her pony. She threw herself upon Rowena in her usual impulsive fashion.
"Haven't you longed to see me! It's been such an exciting time! And I heard Dad say he was coming to see you this afternoon, so I thought I would get over first."
"Now sit up and tell me all about it from the very beginning," demanded Rowena.
"The beginning," said Mysie importantly, "was when Nan came back from the house and said I was to go up and see Dad in the morning. Of course I'd seen him lots of times before that, but I took care that he shouldn't see me. I wanted to find out if I'd like him for a father. I saw him with his gun, he shot two pigeons, and I clapped my hands once. I was behind a tree, and he looked round quickly, but he didn't see me. When Nan wanted to dress me up, I said, No—I would go in my kilt. I hate girls' frocks, and so I ran straight away from her, and walked into the house by myself. And fancy! It was eleven o'clock, and Dad was eating his breakfast!"
"And what did you say?"
"I said, 'Good morning, Dad; may I have some of your bacon?' and I sat down and he laughed, and gave me a big plateful, and told them to bring me a cup of coffee. And then he said:"
"'I don't know whether I'm looking at a boy or a girl,' and then I told him, very earnest, that I had a boy's heart and a girl's body, and then I gave him my present I had brought with me. It was two darling little trout I had caught the day before with Angus. And he was quite pleased and asked me whether I liked fishing, and I told him I liked everything he did, and so we settled up then that we would do things together, and then I told him he'd better let me have a bedroom in his house so that I needn't be running backwards and forwards all day long—and he said yes to that. After that we talked like anything. Why, he's almost as good to talk to as you are!"
"He must be good then!" said Rowena, laughing. "I think he is a delightful father to have, Flora."
"Oh, yes; and we talked about my name—he doesn't like the name of Flora. I said I'd rather be called Macdonald than Mysie, and he thinks he can manage to call me Mac. But he doesn't care to talk all day long, he says, so I've left him. I dare say he'll get used to me after a bit, but he finds me stranger than I do him, you know. For I've always talked to Angus—he's a man, of course, but Dad says he isn't used to children, and doesn't understand them!"
Mysie paused for breath; her eyes glowed as she went on:
"If Dad and I live together and do things together, I shall thank God truly! I've prayed to have a proper father since I was a baby. And after breakfast I went upstairs and told Dad the room I would like to sleep in. Nan says I can't leave her, and Dad doesn't mean it. But he and me mean it very certainly!"
"Ah," said Rowena, "I can see that you're going to have a real good time now. But don't worry a man when he's seedy. Your Dad will have days when he wants to be alone."
Mysie was too full of her own thoughts to take this in.
"I told him there was a prisoner on the loch and that I went to see her, and he seemed to guess at once, and he told Angus he was coming over here this afternoon."
Mysie chattered on: she described her father's appearance with minute details; she said she would like him best in a kilt and hoped he would soon wear it. And she finally departed apologizing for her short visit.
"I feel I don't want to stay away from him too long," she said; "in case he may forget me again."
In the afternoon General Macdonald appeared with his pockets bulging with books. Rowena received him and his books with much pleasure.
"I have seen my child," he said abruptly. "She is bigger and older than I thought. She means to take possession of me. I fancy she ought to be at school, ought she not?"
"Oh, don't worry over school just yet. Get to know her, and get her to know you. What do you think of her?"
He drew up a chair and sat down upon it. Rowena waited for him to speak, and he kept her waiting for three or four minutes, then he said slowly:
"I am a little afraid of her."
"What nonsense!"
"I am afraid of her personality. She does not mean to remain in the background. And when I came down here, a child did not enter into my calculations."
"But I really think she ought to have done so. May I congratulate you upon having such a child?"
He looked at her and smiled.
"I see she has won your heart. A man is handicapped when he has to train a girl child. And she wants training. If she had been a boy, I would have found the task easier."
"Oh, don't take her so heavily," said Rowena. "Let her trot round with you, and do things with you. She'll learn from your talk what is right and wrong."
"Will she? I'm a poor specimen at the best; and I know nothing of women and their ways."
"Bring her up as a boy, then," said Rowena, laughing at his forlorn tone. "She is, as she says, half a boy already. Don't act the heavy father. Of course she will have to be educated later on. But let her have a holiday with you now. Do you know she has prayed that she might have a 'proper father' from the time she was a baby? Don't disappoint her. And when she worries you, send her over to me. Shags and I understand her."
"May I smoke?" the General asked.
Rowena looked at him with laughter in her eyes, as he slowly produced a favourite pipe out of his pocket.
"I suppose," he said reflectively, "you can't mould children as you wish. They resist now, more than they used to do. I should like to mould her after the pattern of my mother. I don't want to have one of these self-assertive modern young women as my daughter, later on."
"I am afraid Mysie has too much character to be shaped into another person's mould. But she is warm-hearted, and if a girl loves, she can be governed through her love."
There was silence between them.
Then Rowena said:
"We might be two old spinster governesses sitting up and discussing the character of our pupils! Look over the loch at the afternoon shadows on the hills. Sweep your small daughter out of your mind for a moment or two—and tell me if that sky doesn't bring delight to your soul?"
General Macdonald gave a short quick sigh, but as he looked across the blue loch, the lines about his lips relaxed.
"Ah," he said, "it's good to get back to it again. There's no place like the Highlands in the world."
"To-morrow," said Rowena blithely, "I am going to extend my horizon. If you see a doubtful-looking craft upon the surface of the loch, it will be me, lying on my back in a flat-bottomed punt. We may fly a scarlet sail. Colin will be with me. But I assure you it will be a red-letter day in my life—therefore the red flag, you see!"
"I congratulate you. But don't put me off my child, for I assure you I hardly slept last night for thinking about her. Knocking about in hospitals, as I have done, I have seen all sorts and conditions of women. I have been bossed by some, and petted by others, and the audacity of some young women filled my soul with awe. Do you think that women—girls, I should say—ought to be trained to earn their own living, so as to be independent of our sex? As I heard some of the nurses declaiming against their dull homes, I gave a thought sometimes to their dull old parents. I shall be one of them when my girl grows up. How can I expect her to stay at home with me, if all the young world is out and away from their homes?"
"By the time Mysie is grown-up the swing of the pendulum will be back the home way again," said Rowena. "I have had great longings for work, you know, and tried to break away from my brother's house more than once. I did leave them for eight months once, but was called back again by my sister-in-law's serious illness. Nothing will keep a girl at home if she wants to leave it, except circumstances. As I say, be a chum and companion to Mysie and she'll never want to leave you, until a possible husband turns up. She is prepared to idealize and worship you. Let her do it, and do, if you want to win her heart quickly, call her 'Flora'!"
General Macdonald laughed.
"Ah, we've fallen out already over that. 'Mysie' was my mother's pet name."
"Then keep it sacred," said Rowena, "and call your small girl by the name she adores and loves!"
They talked on; gradually Rowena got his mind upon other subjects. When he left her, he gripped her hand until she could have cried with the pain of it.
"You have helped me enormously," he said. "I am not going to fight shy of my responsibility as a father any longer."
"Shags," said Rowena, taking hold of a golden brown ear, "am I a hundred years old? Is it always the role of a person on her back to dole out advice to her visitors? Am I, a single woman, to occupy my leisure thoughts in studying a child's character, and the suitable training for her? I am going now to read the most frivolous book I have by me, just to forget the moralities and gravity of life, and to imagine myself a young dog like yourself."
"A glory gilds the sacred page,Majestic like the sunIt gives a light to every age;It gives, but borrows none."Cowper.
ROWENA was moved into her boat the next day. And the sun shone down upon her in real friendliness. Of course Shags accompanied her; and for a couple of hours Colin rowed her over the loch; then, feeling she must not take him longer from his work in the garden, she made him moor the boat to the side of the small landing pier, and there, with her hands dabbling in the cool water, Rowena lay and meditated, and read for another couple of hours. She hardly knew which she liked best, the motion or the stillness.
Granny came out at tea-time and suggested her moving in.
"I could stay here for ever and ever!" exclaimed Rowena. "What is it about the loch that sends such peace and rest into one's soul?"
"It's the still waters," said Granny. She murmured to herself, "'He leadeth me beside the still waters.'"
Rowena never took any notice when the Bible was quoted to her.
"Couldn't I lie here all night?" she said.
"'Deed, an' no, ye will not do that, mem. An' wha would say hoo lang this stillness would be! A storm would come on, and then where would ye be? A helpless leddy, solitary in the nicht!"
"Oh, Granny, what a description! Well, this helpless body must be moved in to bed, I suppose. I can look forward to to-morrow."
But the next day was cold and wet. Rowena by this time was accustomed to the Highland weather. She had a small wood fire made in her green room, and with her books and rug-making spent a very pleasant day. Between four and five the rain ceased and the sun shone out. And soon after five, a motor full of people drove up to the door. It was Lady Fraser, their nearest neighbour. She had brought her daughter and niece over, and two young friends of theirs.
Rowena was not sure whether she liked them pouring in upon her, but she knew it was real friendliness and good nature that brought them.
"We heard of your accident, and your brother told my husband before he went to India that you would be staying here on the quiet for the summer; so we promised him we would look after you, and prevent you from being dull."
Lady Fraser paused at the end of this speech.
"We hoped you might have been able to come over to us, perhaps. We did not know you were a real invalid."
"I am a prisoner for a year," said Rowena cheerfully, "and I am taking fresh views of life. It's astonishing what a different environment does for one. I shall be delighted to see you when you have time to come over, but I cannot return your visits."
"There seem so many invalids now," said Lady Fraser with a sigh. "There is Hugh Macdonald. We heard he had returned home, and wrote asking him to dinner to-morrow, He replied that he was not well enough to go anywhere; but my son George saw him fishing yesterday and he had a child with him. I suppose it is his little girl. I should think she ought to be educated. He has let her run wild since her mother's death. Well, I am truly sorry for you, my dear. I should think it a deadly existence here by yourself. But you say you don't mind."
The girls were full of commiseration. They had always regarded Rowena before as being great fun, and very sporting. She felt that, though they did not put it into words, her invalid life at present formed a gulf between her and their pleasure-loving souls.
"It's so tiresome," said Katie Fraser; "so many of the men are grumpy now like General Macdonald. George is very much the same himself—says tennis and games are boring, and fatigue him. He likes to moon about and go off alone with the keepers."
"My dear," said Lady Fraser, "you forget how ill he has been."
"And the horrors he has gone through," said Rowena slowly. "Forgetfulness is not easy to them all."
"Oh, we will teach them to forget," laughed one of the girls. "They must have a good time now, to make up for all they have lost."
"We're going to get up a pastoral play the end of August," said Lady Fraser; "there will be more people down here then. I do hate the empty time up here, don't you?"
"Well, I'm looking forward to spend the winter here," said Rowena.
They screamed at that statement.
"You can't! Nobody lives here in the winter. You had better be buried at once."
"Why, you will have no neighbours at all! All the houses are shut up!"
"I shall have the minister and his mother; the doctor; Granny Mactavish and her niece, and I can tick off five farms round our loch which will not be shut up! You seem horror-stricken, but I mean to cultivate my neighbours, whoever they may be, if they will be good enough to cultivate me!"
Lady Fraser shook her head at her. "You are joking at our expense! Your eyes betray you!" Her girls were mute, but they looked at Rowena pityingly.
They did not stay very long. She watched them drive off, with a grim smile, and said to Shags:
"We understand now, Shags, how unpleasant perfectly strong healthy people are to the sick. I don't wonder that Hugh Macdonald has taken a dislike to them. I suppose it is their pity which makes me grind my teeth. I always think there's a bit of contempt mixed up with it. Now I am perfectly certain I shan't be troubled with the Frasers much, and how they used to live here last summer! What fun we did have! It is a deadly existence, of course, but content is creeping over me, and I shall not be disturbed."
She returned to her books, but a restless wave passed over her; then she called Granny to the rescue, and a talk with her restored her equanimity of mind.
The next day was windy; she was unable to be in her boat, but she was able to lie out in her chair. And in the afternoon, who should appear but Mysie and her father! They were riding. Mysie's face was glowing with happiness and importance. Her father looked as grave and imperturbable as ever. Mysie in her usual impulsive fashion flung herself upon Rowena.
"Oh, I'm so glad to see you again! And such quantities have happened! Dad doesn't think I'm bad for my age! He really doesn't. I caught a bigger fish than him yesterday morning. We went out in all the rain and did it! And do tell me, were you lying in your boat the day before yesterday? I looked through Dad's glasses and thought I saw you. And may I come by your side in my boat and then I'll tie you up to me and tow you? It will be fun!"
Rowena let her chat on for a few moments undisturbed, then she said:
"Look here, Granny is longing to see you and hear about your doings. Will you go into the kitchen, and ask her to make some of her nice drop scones for tea?"
"Oh, she'll let me help her, I know she will."
Off Mysie darted. Her father looked relieved.
"How are things going?" Rowena asked.
"Rather fast," he said with a flicker of a smile. "We have had one combat of wills already, but I made up my mind beforehand that I would be boss. And she has been more subdued since."
"May I hear about it?"
"It was a question of friction between her and my housekeeper, Mrs. Dalziel. The child marched into her kitchen and helped herself liberally to some of the contents of the store cupboard. Mrs. Dalziel remonstrated, and was told to mind her own business, that Miss Mysie was mistress, and meant to be, or words to that effect. I heard such a shindy that I went out and found them going at each other hammer and tongs, so I called upon the culprit to beg Mrs. Dalziel's pardon at once. This she refused point-blank to do and tossed her head, saying, 'A Macdonald never owns himself in the wrong, Angus told me so.' I told her Angus could go to blazes as far as I cared, but if I told her to do a thing, do it she must, whether she liked it or not. This was a bitter pill to swallow and she held out for two hours. I told her I would allow her half an hour's more grace, and if it wasn't done by that time, her box should be packed and she should be returned to Anne's keeping. She went straight away to Mrs. Dalziel and peace was made. Then she came to me."
"'Have I to beg your pardon too, Dad?'"
"'What for?'"
"'For not doing what you wanted at once.'"
"'No; I don't want words, only deeds,' I said. 'A soldier's daughter must learn prompt obedience from all her superiors.' Then she wanted to know who her superiors were, and she got me into a fog, for it seems Angus and Mrs. Dalziel don't hit it off, and she wanted to know if she was to obey both of them when they 'said the opposite'!"
"'You'll take your orders from me,' I said, giving it up. And I think she's learnt her first lesson."
"How I should like to have seen you together," Rowena said with her happy laugh.
"Now we'll dismiss the child," he said somewhat peremptorily. "Did you enjoy your boat the other day?"
"So much. And I enjoyed this all the better when I came back to it. Change is good for most folk, I suppose. I had a visit from the Frasers yesterday. They were horrified to think I should be meditating spending the winter here."
"They would be. But I wonder if you will do it."
"Yes, I will," Rowena said, a shadow seeming to fall across her bright eyes. "What a lot of thinking I shall do! I have done a good bit already."
He looked up quickly at her.
"Tell me some of your deductions."
"Oh, they are not very original. The mystery of life, and of sadness and gladness. I have begun to have a glimmer of light. There may be some good in our awful experience of the past four or five years. Somehow or other a character without any gravity in its composition has lost its attractiveness to me. The Fraser girls jarred upon me. They do resent and despise those who will not dance to their pleasure. Does it mean that this forced seclusion of mine is making me jump into the solid impassive state of old age?"
He did not answer. Then she asked him somewhat wistfully:
"Have you made any useful deductions during your convalescence?"
He answered her by asking an apparently irrelevant question.
"Did you ever meet Cuff Mackenzie? He was in the Scots Guards, and my regiment lay with his for some considerable time at the Front. Forgive a personal remark, but your eyes remind me of his, except perhaps that there was a graver light in his. A serenity that used to baffle me. He was shot, poor chap, close by my side. I helped carry him into his trench, and he only lived an hour. But he bequeathed me a legacy, and said with his dying breath that it was a key to the present history of the world. He asked me to study it. So I have been doing it. His copious notes on the margins have given me the clue to doing it. And I am intensely interested."
"It's a book? What's the name? Who's the author?"
"Oh, we all possess a copy of it. It's the Bible."
"The Bible!"
Rowena looked amused.
"Do you know, I don't possess a Bible! Granny was quite shocked. She has placed a fat black one on my chest of drawers. I used one at school, but somehow I lost it, and never replaced it. It has never come into my calculations. Of course one hears it in church."
"Mackenzie was very keen on prophecy. He got half the fellows in the Mess hanging on his words one night. He told them that Allenby's victory in the East was a triumphant fact for all Bible students, and proved it. I was there, and since I've owned his well-worn copy, I've been discovering a good deal."
"I thought the Bible was quite out of date in these days," said Rowena. "Even the preachers in London were always putting their knife into it, and trying to prove that most of it was fable."
"Yes, I suppose it's the way of the world. Well, I recommend it to you for study this next winter. You'll find yourself stepping into another world altogether before you've done with it."
"Is that your experience?"
General Macdonald gazed rather dreamily over the loch in front of him, then he turned, and Rowena saw a shining, steadfast light in his dark eyes.
"Yes, I've stepped into another environment," he said; "and it's a very good sort of one, I can tell you."
Rowena was silent.
Then Mysie made her appearance. She was munching a cake, but approached Rowena in a mysterious manner.
"I know something," she said.
"So do I," said Rowena, "many things."
"Ah, but this is an event."
Then in rather a loud whisper she asserted:
"I know when your birthday is. The day after to-morrow. Granny is going to make a special cake for it—she's told me so."
Rowena laughed.
"Granny still treats me as if I were six years old. Will you come to tea with me and taste it, Flora?"
The child clapped her hands, then turned to her father with old-fashioned politeness.
"Could you do without me on Friday do you think, Dad?"
"I fancy I might," said her father gravely.
They did not stay longer. Rowena lay still after they had gone, and mused upon what General Macdonald had told her.
"I knew there was something underneath his tired tones. I don't think I have ever met a religious man before. He will be an interesting study, won't he, Shags? But he will be shocked at my sceptical outlook. I rather wish I could believe in the other fuller life after death. But this world is the main one to me. He has stepped into another environment already, he says. It sounded quite uncanny. And yet—and yet—oh, Shags, I do feel a little more responsible and intelligent than you. I don't quite think you and I will merit the same end! No wonder he has grave views about Mysie's future! I fancy she will lead him a dance before he has done with her. But he and his Bible together won't make me give up his friendship. I enjoy listening to him. He has one of the pleasantest voices I've heard for a long time; and he isn't too sanctified yet! For he had one wicked outburst to his child! Oh, Shags, you and I together must keep him as near our world as we can—I can't afford to lose him. He and I are both crippled crocks, and the mad world doesn't need us. I'll talk to him about the Koran next time and see what he has to say to that!"
On Rowena's birthday Mysie appeared in the full glory of a new kilt—the dress Tartan of the Macdonalds.
"Dad got it in Inverness," she said, showing herself off with pride. "He took me there by train yesterday. We had such a day! But I'm going to wish you a happy birthday, and give you a beautiful present. I bought it for you myself yesterday, all by myself."
She put into Rowena's hands a parcel. Then danced up and down in excitement whilst it was being opened.
"I knewed you were fond of books," Mysie's grammar was not always correct. "So I went into a book shop and asked the man what was the best book in the world for anybody who loved reading. He thought hard and then he got me this—at least it was the same book, but I chose a prettier cover. It's the best book in the world, so you're sure to like it."
Rowena opened the parcel. A beautiful little dark red leather Bible lay inside.
She looked up at Mysie with a mixture of curiosity and pleasure in her eyes.
"My dear little Flora What can I say? It's beautiful! I suppose your Dad had a hand in choosing it?"
"He didn't know nothing about it, till I'd brought it home. It was the shopman who showed it to me."
"It's a wonderful gift and a remarkable coincidence," said Rowena thoughtfully.
"I suppose it's what they read in church," said Mysie. "Dad said it was a present fit for a queen. I couldn't have done better, he said. And one day he's going to give me one. Have you got one of any kind? I hope you haven't, but I know Granny Mactavish has. But it isn't red leather like this, is it?"
Rowena put her arm round her and kissed her.
"Thank you a thousand times, Flora darling! I will keep this till I die."
"And what did you call it, not a Bible, but an unmarkable concordance, didn't you?"
"That's near enough," laughed Rowena.
Then they had tea, and Granny's birthday cake was much appreciated. Mysie, of course, was full of the subject of birthdays.
"When is God's birthday?" she asked suddenly. "Does the Bible tell you? I know Jesus' birthday is Christmas Day. I should like to know God's birthday, if He lets people know. He must be very, very, very old."
Rowena was never shocked by Mysie's questions.
"God Almighty has no birthday, for He was never born. There never was a time when He did not exist. But don't puzzle your head over that mystery. Let us talk of other things."
"Dad's birthday is in November," said Mysie after a moment's pause. "Mine is in November too. Isn't that funny? Mine is on the 10th. His is on the 20th. Will you be here on our birthdays? Do you think you could come to tea with us? You could come across the loch in your fiat boat. That would be fun, wouldn't it? And we'd have a birthday cake as good as Granny's."
"We must wait and see. I dare say I shall be here, but the fairies may have wafted you off somewhere before November. Perhaps to school."
"Ah," said Mysie, shaking her head, "Dad talks about school, but the fairies and I may manage something better. I'll go round one of their hills; if you go nine times the wrong way, at sunset, I think, you'll find a door leading you inside. And if I once go inside I shan't come back for years and years!"
"That would be a pity. I shouldn't do anything that would make you into a prisoner."
"Would I be a prisoner? Well then, I should find a way to escape. That would be most exciting."
"I would rather try school."
"Would you? But I couldn't live away from the Highlands, I should die. The great Flora didn't go to school. She had governesses. I know all about her."
"Oh, yes, she did go to school. I have a life of her here," said Rowena.
"Then Angus told me wrong. Perhaps I will go to school then—only I must come back for all the holidays."
Mysie sat and talked, then she had a romp with Shags, and departed about seven o'clock.
"I have to be back by eight, Dad said so. He's a very particular man. Angus says it's because he's a soldier."
Rowena lay thinking after Mysie had left her. The advent of the red Bible had not altogether pleased her.
"I suppose, Shags, it means that I shall have to read it, but as to studying it, I shouldn't have the faintest notion how to set about it. I think I'll wait till I see the General again. He may be able to give me a tip about it. Is it a case of thought telepathy between father and child, I wonder?"
"Faith alone is the master-keyTo the strait gate and narrow road,The others but skeleton pick-locks be,And you never shall pick the locks of God."Walter Smith.
ROWENA did not see her friends for ten days, for a week of storm and rain set in, and she managed to catch a cold which settled on her chest, and forced her to remain indoors and be nursed by Granny. She was solaced by a budget of Indian letters, and she straightway replied to her brother:
"DEAR OLD TED,—""It was good to see your fist again. I am as hoarse as a raven, and Granny has got full possession of me. You know what a dragon she is. I suppose the knowledge of her superior power keeps her from feeling the pellets of abusive epithets with which I pelt her! Shags, my devoted one, lies at the bottom of my bed, ready for the least spark of fun that can be got out of his mistress. He and I, of course, hold long conversations together. I don't know which speaks most intelligently—his stumpy tail, his two wicked little ears, or his sparkling brown eyes. I sometimes wish humans had that eighth sense, a tail! It would give one away too much, I expect! I often wonder whether it is entirely under Shags' control or whether it gives an independent wag of its own on occasions. If so, it must be rather unpleasant to poor Shags.""Well, I must try to write sober sense if I can. I congratulate you on your polo match. I sometimes get a strong yearning to leave my prison, and get some movement into my slow torpid existence. No—I am not torpid. I feel my brain is keener than ever. You will laugh at a literary effort of mine. I was reading a minister's account of his village, historically, botanically, geologically, and legendarily. So I've started a book on our loch and neighbourhood, and I can't tell you what an interest it is. I have routed out some of your old books here, and I've sent to Mudie's for a few more, and I hope to borrow some from Hugh Macdonald, who has become quite friendly. I can see he thinks me harmless, so has accepted my friendship accordingly. I am also getting hold of a lot of old folk-lore from Donald, who, though grimly sceptical of certain traditions, holds others fast and firm. The Frasers are here, and have paid me one visit. I don't think they will trouble me much. Granny told me this morning that the pretty cottage at the top of our glen has just been taken by a single lady, a Miss Falconer. She is a connection of the Grants, Granny says. I don't know where she gets her information from! Our garden here is a dream. Colin is a good hard-working boy. Picture our herbaceous border a riot of pink and white and blue colour. The phloxes are luxuriant, so are the delphiniums. And our roses go on and on, blooming for ever! I lie here and enjoy nature, and I'm learning an awful lot about the birds and insects. Hugh Macdonald has quite adopted his child, and amuses me by his high ideas of training and education. She is too independent for him. He said to me the other day: 'But she's a girl—why is she so assertive, and so strong-willed and fearless?' I reminded him that our sex is that way inclined nowadays, and he must make the best of it. But he didn't see it. I think she wakes him up and keeps him lively. Anne has given up the charge of her rather unwillingly, but still keeps a motherly eye on her, and there is jealousy between her and his housekeeper.""This won't interest you. Oh, Ted, do you, from the depths of your heart, believe that I am going to be a sound member of humanity again? I am beginning to doubt it. My spinal cord has gone to smithereens! I can't sit up for five minutes without feeling it, and it makes me rant and roar against fate in general.""This is the lament of Brer Tarrypin 'Loungin' round an' sufferin'.' If you were to walk in at this moment, you would grin broadly, and tell me that I know how to do myself! For I'm in my green room with a cheerful wood fire. Bowls of flowers are everywhere, and an appetizing lunch of beef-tea and crisp toast has just appeared and I've written myself into a smiling humour again. My fits of depression don't last long. I'm as happy as I can be away from you all. Good-bye—a thousand kisses to the bunch of you.""ROWENA."
As Rowena was finishing this letter, Granny came into the room.
"'Tis the minister and his mither called to speir for ye. I telled them ye were just lyin' by, and wud na' be seein' folk for a wee bit."
"Oh, I should like to see Mrs. Macintosh. I promise not to talk more than I do to you, Granny. Don't be a dragon. Bring her in."
Granny shook her head doubtfully; but presently ushered in the visitor, raising a warning finger at her as she did so.
"Ye'll no mak' me young leddy force her speech. She micht bring on inflammation o' the lungs an' throat, for she's sair vexed wi' hoarseness just noo."
"My dear, I am sorry for you," said Mrs. Macintosh, taking the seat Granny had placed for her. "I have been long in coming, but I have been laid up for six weeks with a severe bout of my enemy, rheumatic-gout, and am only just able to get about again."
"Bodies are troublesome items," said Rowena; "but I'm quite convalescent again. Granny makes the worst of me, for she dreads my going out-of-doors before I'm perfectly well. Tell me all the news of the neighbourhood, and I'll lie and listen. I quite understand how bedridden folk are entranced to hear that there has been a quarrel between Mr. and Mrs. Black, and that Mr. White's cat has stolen Mrs. Green's cream, and that Billy Smith saw John Wood and Mary Tibbs walking out together! Tell me all and everything that has happened to the outside world since I left it."
Mrs. Macintosh laughed.
"It is so easy to gossip," she said; "and I'll do it with a right good will. Of course the first bit of news is that the Macdonald child is living with her father. They have been to the kirk every Sabbath, and very well behaved the little lassie is. But she stopped Robert last Sabbath when she saw him come out of the kirk."
"'Do be a wee bit shorter next Sunday, will you,' she said with her mischievous eyes gleaming with fun. 'I get pins and needles in my legs, and Dad requires that I should keep still. He says a fidgety neighbour is worse than a fidgety horse.'"
"We are wondering what her father will do with her in the way of learning. Robert called on him the other day, and was very pleased with his visit. It seems the laird is keenly interested in prophecy, and Robert's soul is full of it. They talked for three or four hours."
"They would," said Rowena, laughing.
"And I suppose you have heard of the new arrival?" Mrs. Macintosh went on. "It is a Miss Falconer at Glen Cottage. I went over to see her and she has been once or twice to us. She is very friendly. A sweet-looking young woman. It seems that she is very clever. Has been to Girton and is a B.A., and for some time taught in one of the big English High Schools. Then she had a bad illness and has never been very strong since. She came in to a little money, and determined to get a cottage somewhere up here. Her mother was a Grant, she is well connected. She loves the quiet and seclusion here, but longs to be busy. I was talking about the Macdonald child and she begged me to ask the laird if she could teach his little daughter. She said she would prefer to walk over to the house every day and give her as many hours' tuition as he thought necessary, for in that way she would get air and exercise. So I broached the subject to the laird, and he is going to think it over. It does seem the very thing for the child, does it not? Robert is hoping the laird means to settle down here. It will be so good for the place and the people."
"I always feel I'm back in the feudal times when I'm over here," said Rowena. "You are all so devoted to your chief. I think I should like to know Miss Falconer. I wonder if she would waive ceremony and come and see me?"
"I am sure she would be delighted to do so. May I tell her?" Mrs. Macintosh continued to give her all the local news, then when she declared she had got to the end of it, she said:
"And now I am going to ask you a favour. We have a little sale of work every year for parish needs. Will you do one of your beautiful rugs for it?"
Rowena pursed up her mouth.
"I never, on principle, do any work for bazaars."
"May I ask what the principle is?"
Rowena laughed.
"You've driven me into a corner—on the principle of selfishness I always refuse—because in town there's a never-ending stream of charity bazaars, and if you work for one, you must work for all."
"And you think if you work for us, you will be worried by other people?"
"I suppose I must say 'yes' to you; but I really was going to stop my rug-making. I'm doing something so much more interesting. I'm writing a book."
"You are writing? How delightful!"
"I'm making a history of Abertarlie and its glen and loch."
Mrs. Macintosh forgot her sale of work and became quite enthusiastic.
"Robert could help you; he has legends and folk-lore at his finger ends. Oh, my dear, may I tell him? He will be so interested and pleased."
"Tell him to give me information about the kirk and all the ministers there. Wasn't there a certain Hamish McGregor who drew his sword in the pulpit, hearing a fray going on outside, shouting, 'My text is, "In the name of the Lord I will destroy them." Brethren, we will carry this precept into practice immediately,' and down the kirk he flew, the whole congregation after him, and the next moment he and they were fighting for all they were worth with the rival clan?"
"Oh, yes, I have heard that story. May I bring Robert in to see you? He may have reference books he could lend you."
"Bring him in, but don't tell Granny. After all it is a minister's business to visit his sick parishioners."
So Robert came in, and he and Rowena talked about Abertarlie with great zest and interest.
Mrs. Macintosh left them together and went out to see Granny in the kitchen. Just before Robert left, his eyes fell on Rowena's little red Bible which was lying on her table. He looked quite pleased and put his hand gently upon it.
"I'm so glad you read this," he said.
"But I don't. I never have. That absurd child Mysie gave it to me for a birthday present. I always consider it so out of date. Isn't it audacity on my part to speak so to a minister?"
The young man shook his head at her with a smile.
"It's the fashion of the world to talk so," he said; "but these are days in which this out of date Book surprises all who study it, by its accurate prophecy. Its truth and inspiration are being proved up to the hilt. Do you know, I put down all the unrest and godlessness of our country to the neglect of the Word of Life, and the Lamp to our feet!"
"Ah, yes; I knew you would speak so; but then it is your profession to place it highly. You see I have studied other religious textbooks. The Koran—the writings of Confucius and of Socrates, and Mrs. Eddy's book of Christian Science. The Bible is only one of many."
"I deny that."
The young minister spoke hotly.
"Those other works may appeal to the intellect, to the head, but the Bible is the only book that reaches the heart, and wins the love of its readers for the Author of it. The books you mention lay down moral laws, but they don't give you the secret for keeping them; they don't bring peace and happiness to an aching restless soul."
"I think Christian Science does," said Rowena slowly.
"Self-hypnotism," said Robert curtly. "Ignoring facts does not efface them. And I have seen the breakdown of their faith stagger and distress poor souls to the extent of making them unbelievers of everybody and everything!"
"You are severe. We won't have an argument. I like you much better when you are talking about fairies' mounds and folk-lore!"
Robert smiled and said no more.
When he and his mother had gone, Rowena put out her hand for her red Book.
"Well, I must make a beginning. I'll read the New Testament through. I don't expect I shall find anything fresh in it. I'll take a chapter a day. Shags, I don't like young ministers. They are so dogmatic. I wonder if the laird will talk in the same strain. I shall test him when he comes next time."
General Macdonald came over to see her the first day she was out again on her couch beneath the shady trees on the lawn. He expressed his regret at her bad cold, and settled down to smoke and talk like an old friend.
"I really think I've fixed up Mysie's education," he said. "A most charming young woman has arrived in these parts, a full-fledged and certificated teacher. She's not obliged to teach, but she loves it, and she's started coming over to give the child lessons every day from nine to one. Have you made her acquaintance yet?"
"No. I've heard about her. She makes a favourable impression upon everybody. I am quite anxious to see her. You do seem lucky. Is she fond of children?"
"I should think so. She's fond of teaching—the two go together. She has great ideas about education. I could hardly follow her, after a certain time. But her heart and soul are in it."
"And how does Mysie like her?"
"I have not asked. She's too critical—that child. She began at once to say she didn't like people who smiled when they said nasty things. I shut her up. Told her that governesses were not to be criticized. That they were to be respected and obeyed. And then what do you think she said?"
"Something to the point, I expect."
"'When I grow up, I shall trample obedience to the ground, and do all the things I'm told not to do now.' What do you think of that for a child of nine?"
"Oh, she means nothing. It's a fit of petulance. I used to talk like that when I was young."
"You are very comforting," he said with a grave smile. "I would like Mysie to grow up like you."
"Oh, never!" cried Rowena. "You don't mean it. I hope she'll do something more with her life than I have with mine. I have never done so much introspecting in all my days as I have since I've been on my back. I've been too busy and one just lives without questioning the whys and wherefores of life. But I'm beginning to see I haven't much to show for my years of life, so far."
"How do you regard life?" asked General Macdonald.
"Not as seriously as you do," said Rowena promptly; then laying her hand on her red Bible, she added, "nor half as seriously as this Book would have us do. I am a frivolous, careless person by nature."
"How are you getting on with the study of it?"
"What? My Bible? Oh, I haven't begun to study it. I am reading it. Well, I haven't answered your question. I think I regard life as a journey in which we are bound to help our fellow-travellers by the way, and keep a cheery heart. That's my creed. At least it was, but now I'm beginning to think I might have contributed towards bettering the bad conditions that exist."
"And the end of the journey?"
Rowena shrugged her shoulders.
"An unknowledgeable finish, I am afraid. You know I don't regard the Bible as you do. It is one of many religious textbooks."
"Yes, that was my belief; but Cuff Mackenzie knocked that on the head. His life was a living vital force—inspired by what he got out of the Bible. And he was one of the best chaps going. I have now proved what he did: that it solves all life's puzzles, and brings one into touch with a glorious new world, and a certain hope, and a mighty Power."
"Anything more?"
General Macdonald turned steady, glowing eyes upon her.
"It makes one acquainted with the Saviour of the World." Rowena was absolutely silent for some moments, then she said:
"I wonder if I shall get out of it what you do?"
"I dare say you will get more."
"You see," she said somewhat wistfully, "it is only since I have had so much time alone that I have begun to think. But I don't feel, even now, that I am dissatisfied or want more than I can get. I mean I don't need the Bible as a prop or guide."
"Perhaps you have never had a flash of light showing you our cause of existence."
"I haven't. I think the only thing I was born for was to be kind to Ted."
General Macdonald was silent. Then Rowena suddenly turned the subject, and told him of her attempt at literature. He was interested at once.
"I'll lend you our clan book. As this is our part of the world, there's a lot of local information in it. I congratulate you on the idea. When one is on one's back, writing is an immense resource. It is even better than reading for taking away from oneself."
"Have you done anything in that way yourself?"
"Yes, I have done a few articles for magazines—chiefly military subjects. I believe I have a book on the lochs of this part. Would you care for it as a reference?"
"I should be charmed. I envy you your library! Being shut up for the greater part of the year, this house does not own many books."
General Macdonald looked at her thoughtfully.
Rowena was always good to look at. Her face was extraordinarily alive with interest and emotion. One of her friends said that her soul seemed to be leaping forth from her body. Now, as she lay back among her cushions, there was a magnificent energy and force in every feature of her face.
She drew a long breath.
"Oh, it's good to be learning new things," she said. "This small attempt of mine has taught me so much of this dear place! By the by, do you know our new young minister? He is very interested in all local history, and has the superstitious soul of the Highlander in spite of his religion."
"I have met him and like him. I lent him an old book of mine the other day, written by one of those early divines, and its quaint phraseology pleased me. I copied a bit out for you. Tell me how you like it?"
General Macdonald produced a notebook out of his pocket and read the following:
"I walk the world now with the World's Creator.""He opens many doors for me. One door I fain would have open,but He opens it not. I know He will do it on the Great Surprise day,and till then I wait patiently and serenely, being assured verilythat were I to have all doors unlocked now, I should lose thatgoodly champion Hope.""This one closed door has many crowds about it. Some tamper with thelock and endeavour to spy through the keyhole. They do not endeavourlong, but depart with high head and pouting lips; saying thatbecause of their inability to see through to the other side, thereremaineth no other side at all.""And others sit down and weave imaginary conceits about it whichthey pass on proudly to the unimaginative ones.""And I, with my hand in the Almighty one, have learned and amstill learning daily how to love the Unseen Presence which leadsand surrounds me.""I know His keys will be used as He sees fit.""And one day that last door shall be opened to me.""Till then I am content to smile and trust and wait."
"I like it," said Rowena emphatically. "It is sound philosophy. I have no patience with those who have cravings for the moon. Nor do I wish just yet to attain all my desires. Hope is a goodly companion. I suppose this experience is yours. You told me a new world had opened out to you and taken possession of you."
"It's my aim to make it mine," General Macdonald said slowly. Then he gave a short laugh. "Meanwhile I think great thoughts, and lose my temper at the least provocation! I nearly swore at the child this morning! Her continual motion gets on my nerves. Thank goodness Miss Falconer will keep her quiet for half every day now. She's an ideal companion when one wants to lounge or laze, but not when one wants to read and attend to business matters. And in the early morning I'm testy and crusty—always have been."
"I do like you when you're human," said Rowena, laughing. "Why is it that absolutely perfect people never appeal to one? I suppose one likes to be surprised. The dead monotony of the virtuous good ..."
He put out his hand as if to stop her.
"Don't!" he said. "There's no chance of monotony with the best people in the world! They ought always to be rising higher."
Rowena gave a little groan.
"I hope you won't try to rise to a higher plane than your present one. You are quite far-away from me as it is."
He shook his head.
"Have you heard of the Hermit of Abertarlie? You ought to bring him into your book."
"No, do tell me."
"He made himself a hut at the bottom of the glen. If you look opposite you'll see a very old oak down by the edge of the loch."
"I know it well. There are not many trees that I do not know. I lie here and look-out at them all day long. Was his hut over there?"
"It is said so. Of course he was a very devout man, and every morning and evening he knelt down at the water's edge and said his prayers. But, the tale goes, the water fairies used to rise up and mock at him, and having been a keen fisherman before he turned hermit, he found the rising trout and salmon too much for his peace of mind. They mixed up too much with his prayers."
"'I have made a mistake,' he said. 'I am too close to the earth, too low down—too far from heaven.' So he moved his hut to the top of the glen, just in the thicket where Miss Falconer's cottage now stands. But the high road over the moor passed too close to him. He was annoyed by the drovers driving their cattle to market. He heard their bad language. 'Too close to wickedness,' he sighed. He finally climbed a very thick beech tree, and up there made another home for himself."
"'The birds will not disturb me,' he assured himself; 'they live too near heaven.'"
"But a storm came one night and, the legend goes, not only swept him out of his tree, but swept him from the top of the glen to the bottom, and when he woke to consciousness, it was to find himself with a broken back lying by the edge of the loch once again."
"'Ah!' he breathed, just as he was dying, 'I am afraid I have been mistaken. Close to the earth I was born; close to the earth I die. Close to the earth I was meant to live. I tried to change my atmosphere too soon. It was before my Maker's time!'"
"What a good moral!" said Rowena delightedly. "I shall certainly put that legend in my book."
Macdonald got up to go. She looked up at him with her laughing eyes.
"'Close to the earth you are meant to live,'" she quoted. "The Frasers consider you a hermit already. And I am glad that you have such an unsaintly little daughter! She will keep you in your right atmosphere."
He smiled gravely as he walked away. And Rowena's eyes softened as she looked after him.
"I hope he won't become too saintly to enjoy a talk with a sinner like myself," she murmured.
"Who gives himself airs of importance exhibiteth the credentialsof impotence."Lavater.
AUGUST came, and gradually the neighbourhood began to grow lively with visitors and tourists. Once or twice Rowena had visits from the Frasers. And then one day Miss Falconer came. Rowena had written to her and asked her to come to tea. Mysie had had a good deal to tell Rowena about her new governess.
"You won't mind anything I say, will you? I beseech you to let me talk anyhow! When I'm with Dad I don't. He says I must respect and obey Miss Falconer."
"So you must, you little imp! But you can tell me anything you like."
"Then can you really like a person you respect and obey?"
"Rather. You can't like people unless you do respect them. You respect your Dad. I hope you respect me.'
"And I hope you respect me," put in Mysie eagerly. "Do you?"
"Yes, I do," Rowena said promptly. "I respect your feelings, and wouldn't hurt them for the world."
"Then," said Mysie with big earnest eyes; "that's just what's the matter with Miss Falconer, she's always hurting me inside. She smiles, and she never loses her temper; but she says things that shows me she's mocking me. And I can bear it all except her laughing at fairies and all the stories Angus tells me. Dad says she's not a true Highlander, but she says she's related to them. And she laughs at Flora—she calls her a misguided, 'motional female; and Prince Charlie, she actually calls him a rascal, and says he lived to be a bad old man!"
"She's not a Jacobite," said Rowena. "Lots of good people didn't like Prince Charlie. They were staunch and loyal to their own king."
She found it rather difficult to comfort Mysie. And when Miss Falconer came to see her, she resolved she would say something to her about her little pupil's romantic tendencies. She found her an extremely pleasant and clever young woman. Her fair golden hair, delicate pointed pale face, and large dark eyes gave her a very refined and youthful look. But her conversation was stimulating and Rowena quite enjoyed her little talk with her on the current topics of the day.
"My friends tell me I am burying myself alive here," said Miss Falconer; "but all through my busiest times I looked forward to a country cottage as a far-away ideal to be realized. And when I came into a little money and had a breakdown I thankfully came off here. My cousin, Lady Grant, told me about it. They will be coming here in September. I suppose you know them?"
"The Grants of Dalghetty? Yes."
"I have wanted to see you so much. I heard that you, like myself, are driven by your health into forced seclusion. Does the quiet really rest you, or does it after a time irritate and bore you?"
"It doesn't irritate me," said Rowena. "But I dare say in my case the contrast is not so marked. I have not been like you, one of the world's workers."
"But during the war surely you did something?"
"Nothing but look after my sister-in-law and her children."
Miss Falconer's face expressed surprise and disapproval.
"I was working at fever heat those four years. I could not give up my teaching. I was at a High School in Hampstead, but in my off hours I did canteen work. And, in addition, I was coaching Ambulance classes. I longed to go abroad. But I could not be spared. That was a real grief to me. When I first came here, I felt exhausted with life; then, after a good bit of rest, I began to long to communicate myself to somebody. Do you know that craving? I have so much that I feel I must give out—share with my fellow-creatures. I tried to befriend the parish schoolmaster. What an antiquated, conservative bit of humanity he is! and so slow in his drawling speech that I have not the patience to listen to him! It was through him that I heard of little Mysie Macdonald. I hope he does not bear me a grudge for taking her away from him, but really, what kind of education do you think he could give her? I dare say he may do very well for the Highland children, but Mysie is too quick and clever to be placed in their groove."
"Then you find her clever?"
"On the surface, very—but she is sadly wanting in stability of thought and in solid perseverance."
"She's rather small for that."
"My dear Miss Arbuthnot, a child's never too small to be trained in good habits."
"She's a fascinating monkey. A very pleasant companion I find her. I love her mystical and romantic beliefs in all our Highland folk-lore. Whatever you do, don't take that from her."
"Oh, all that comes from her being brought up by these Highland servants. If I were not so intensely fond of teaching, I should be rather downhearted sometimes. For, my dear Miss Arbuthnot, it is hard to get some children to learn, but it is a thousand times more difficult to get them to unlearn. And that is the bed-rock with Mysie. I must shatter some of her ignorant prejudices before I can start to build."
"Don't shatter her faith. It's such a precious quality."
"Would you have a clever child believe in witches, and incantation, and barbaric superstitions?"
"Yes, I would," said Rowena with a little laugh, "till they can replace them with other things. A child ought to have strong faith when she is young. You'll turn her into a critical unhuman little prig if you make her sceptical of all the beautiful childish imaginary folk-lore we have here."
"And what about religion?"
"Oh, her father will teach her that. He has enough himself and to spare."
"A growing girl has such an infinite amount to learn," said Miss Falconer; "the growth of her threefold nature demands it. Mysie is past the age for pretty fancies. I want to teach her the worth of her body, soul and spirit. Her body and her soul, or intellect, I feel I am well able to cope with, but as regards her religion I want to have a talk with her father about that. I keep an open mind myself. I have had Roman Catholic pupils, Anglican and Nonconformist. I have had one or two Mohammedan pupils, and my rule is to train them absolutely in their parents' creed and faith."
Rowena felt this delicate young woman was rather astonishing her.
"Can you teach what you do not believe yourself?" she inquired.
"Assuredly. I have always had the power of throwing my whole soul into the subject which I am studying. My head grips it and holds it, though my heart remains untouched."
"Mere mechanical motion," murmured Rowena; "well, machinery accomplishes wonders nowadays. But you cannot inspire them with enthusiasm if you do not feel it yourself."
"Enthusiasm is not good in religion," said Miss Falconer calmly. "It leads to fanaticism, which is unhealthy."
"And are you enthusiastic about nothing?" asked Rowena.
Miss Falconer's eyes glowed.
"Ah, you ask me a great question. I want to train the girlhood of England to know their value. In these times it is more than necessary. Our sex has made great strides in all that they have put their hands to. They are the most valuable asset of the nation. Is there a single position of power or influence which woman is now not competent to fill?"
"The biggest position of power and influence for a woman is the home," said Rowena very quietly.
Miss Falconer looked at her, and once as often before Rowena's eyes misled her.
"You are laughing at me. Thank goodness we have enlarged our borders, and broken the chains of subservient, degrading service under the male."
"And now we'll have tea," said Rowena, turning to welcome Janet with the tea tray. "Whatever the modern woman has learnt, she has not yet broken away from the thrall of the tea-cup."
She refused to be drawn into serious discussion again, but showed her most ridiculous and frivolous side for the rest of Miss Falconer's visit, and when she had gone she said to her dear dog:
"Shags, my dear, you took a good sniff at her, what is your honest opinion of her? I am afraid she is somewhat of a firebrand. I hardly like to think of darling warm-hearted little Mysie being brought into conformance with her will and teaching. I wonder if the laird has any idea of the character of his governess? I would enjoy hearing them have a religious talk together! Well, my dear young woman, you have a strong belief in yourself and your own power. But personally I would like you to fall head over ears in love with a man who would box your ears when you dared contradict him! You are very, very young in your self-assertiveness, and you make me feel very, very old when I am talking to you!"
It was some time before Rowena saw General Macdonald. He went up to London on business and was away ten days. Mysie seemed settling down with her governess, but the day before her father returned, she came flying over to Rowena.
"I am so excited I can't keep still. I do hope Dad won't forget to come home to-morrow. I want to ask you something. It's very solemn and sober—so you're not to laugh, and you're to shut your eyes and listen—just like people do in a long sermon."
"All right. Go ahead."
Rowena was always ready to oblige her little friend. She shut her eyes obediently.
"I am ready," she said, "and my ears are stretched as wide as they can be, quite impatient to hear."
"You know Miss Falconer talks and talks and talks to me, and she thinks it wrong of me to be always wishing I'm a boy. She says girls are the best people that God has made. And she says I must be proud I'm a woman, for women are going to rule the world. I asked her if that meant that they need not obey anybody—and she said yes. Full freedom and liberty was a woman's, now. So I asked her why I need obey grown-up people now—and she said it was necessary—and I asked her how long—and she said I would know when I grew up. So I said that when I was twenty need I obey Dad? And she said when I was twenty-one, I was of age, and could live my own life like a man, and then she asked me what I was going to do, that I ought to make up my mind to earn my own living, and be free of everybody. I rather like that; and I've made up my mind to be a traveller and discover new places. I shall travel in an airship—and just think if I could find my way to one of the stars! And Dad won't be able to say 'No' to me when I'm grown-up."