My Heart's in the Highlands
Copyright© 2024 by Amy Le Feuvre
Chapter 1: His Bride
“We in our wedded life shall know no loss,
We shall new-date our years! What went before
Will be the time of promise, shadow, dream,
But this full revelation of great love!
For rivers blent take in a broader heaven,
And we shall blend our souls.”
From Cloud of Witness.
“NOW we are together at last.”
It was in a tone of deep triumphant content that General Macdonald made this assertion.
He and Rowena were facing each other in a first-class carriage. The Scotch express was taking them up to Scotland, and it was between nine and ten in the evening.
Their wedding-day, and the weather had been perfect: a typical June day, when all the freshness of early summer is at its sweetest and best. They had got their way, and only about half a dozen people were in the quiet little Sussex church when they made their vows together.
Rowena sat back looking radiant. She was dressed in a dark powder-blue coat and skirt with a travelling felt hat of the same hue, which intensified the blue in her eyes. But even now an irrepressible twinkle, of fun shot through them as she said:
“So you think we shall always find our own company sufficient, Hugh?”
“I shall never need anyone but you,” he replied quickly.
“Except your little Mysie.”
And then the General’s grave intense look melted and he smiled.
“Ah—Mysie! I left her in tears because I would not bring her up. I felt it was too sacred a service at which to have a curious child commenting and looking on. How long you have kept me waiting! I can hardly even now realize that the waiting time is over. I thought at one time that the old lady would never let you go.”
“Poor Mrs. Burke!” Rowena’s eyes grew soft with pity. “You were always hard upon her; but you would not be hard if you could see her now. I used to wonder if she could ever have the necessary strength and pluck to alter her life; but it has all come about so easily.”
“Do you think me very hard? You will have to teach me how to look at people leniently when their views clash with my own. I could do with more tolerance and sympathy, I own. But it has always been my way to go straight ahead, and black is never white to me.”
Rowena put her hand on his very softly.
“And that is what I always admired in you—you drive straight for your goal. There is no uncertain sound when you sound your trumpet. When I think that my feet and yours will be treading the same path now, that I shall be able to look to you for support when I trip—why, I feel inclined to burst into a song of thanksgiving!” Then she added with a little laugh: “Now, after that rhapsody, may I come down to earth, and ask you if your old housekeeper will give me a pleasant welcome? Do you think she will like having a mistress, after having managed for you all these years?”
“Mrs. Dalziel serves me faithfully,” said the General in a contented tone; “and she will, of course, be ready to serve you, too. Long ago she hoped you were coming to us. She actually had the audacity to tell me so. Our Scotch folk are not like anyone else.”
“I have never asked you about Marion, yet. Do you really like her?”
“She is a real comfort: keeps in the background, and is never seen unless I send for her. And the child is learning well from her. Rowena, I will not spend these precious first few hours with you in talking about anyone else but ourselves. I want to feel that there is just you and myself here in the world. Let us shut every one else out.”
So they talked in the same old way that both young and old lovers always talk, and the journey seemed one golden dream to Rowena. It was so new to her to be waited upon and cared for and protected, that at first she felt inclined to expostulate. Later she learnt to take it as her due.
They spent a few days in Edinburgh, and then turned towards the Highlands. It was a most lovely evening when they at last arrived at Abertarlie. A beautiful car was at the station—a great surprise to Rowena.
“You never told me you had started a car; I expected a shabby trap and horse hired for the occasion.”
“I bought this a few months back; I determined that you should be able to get about and see your friends. I realize we are isolated, but I won’t have you feel that you are shut up, and stranded away from your fellow-creatures. You are very sociable by nature, I know.”
“Am I?” said Rowena, laughing. “I was very happy that year when I was laid upon my back and saw no one. And I have been happy this last year living amongst crowds. They say I can make myself happy anywhere, and I believe I can. Don’t you think, you dear foolish man, that your company is good enough for me? But I won’t pretend that I don’t love a car. You and I can see the beauties of the Highlands in it. You will take me to some of the lochs that I have never seen, won’t you?”
General Macdonald was a proud man when, a little later, he drove up to his weather-beaten old house and handed Rowena out of the car. There was a scream and a rush of flying feet, and Mysie was embracing them both. “Oh, you’ve come at last! At last! Miss Panton and I are simply sick of waiting for you! Oh, Mignon, you darling, stoop down and let me whisper to you. May I really call you ‘Mother’? Dad said he would like me to.”
“My darling, of course you may. Dad’s wishes are mine.”
Then up the steps she went, her hand in her husband’s arm, and Mysie clinging hold of her at the other side. In the hall was the housekeeper, Mrs. Dalziel, and behind her a little group of servants.
General Macdonald turned to them very simply:
“I have brought my wife home, but she is not a stranger to you, and I am sure you will welcome her.”
“Ah, indeed, we will with all our hearts,” said Mrs. Dalziel, coming forward.
Rowena shook hands with her warmly.
“That is very sweet of you,” she said. “I don’t feel a stranger, for I love every inch of ground in the Highlands, and my heart never wanders from it.”
Marion Panton was found in the inner hall, where tea was laid. Rowena hardly knew her, she was looking so bright and well. Three long windows that looked into the flower garden were wide open, and the scent of sweetbrier hedges and of wallflowers and narcissi filled the hall. A bowl of daffodils was upon the old oak table that held the tea. The shining silver and platter of Scotch scones and cakes gave a homely touch to the rather gloomy hall with its stone floor and dark oak-panelled walls.
Rowena was led up to the big chair at the table by her husband.
“There!” he said, smiling, as she seated herself. “That is where Mysie and I have been wanting to see you for many a long day.”
“And it’s strange how thoroughly at home I feel,” said Rowena, with her laugh, as she slipped off her gloves and took hold of the massive silver teapot.
Tea was a most cheerful meal. Mysie was in her kilt.
“In honour of you,” she informed Rowena. “I couldn’t wear it in London. Cousin Bel was quite shocked when I put it on once. She said it was boy’s clothes, so Dad said I mustn’t offend her eyes. But you love it, don’t you? You like me to be thorough Scotch?”
“You can’t be too Scotch for me,” said Rowena.
When tea was over Miss Panton took Mysie away to the schoolroom, and General Macdonald took his wife all over the house. She had never been over it before, and was surprised at its spaciousness.
“Why, you could lodge fifty people here,” she said, when they had finished going in and out of the quaint old rooms, all gloomily and sparsely furnished, except those in use. “We shall never be able to say we have no room for our friends.”
Then she returned to the little suite of rooms that had been prepared for her. There was a little boudoir leading out of her bedroom which was now illumined by golden sunshine.
“I love a west room!” she exclaimed. “And oh, Hugh, what an exquisite enchanting view!”
Kneeling on the low window-seat, she leant out of the open window. She faced the loch in the distance, and the blue hills at the farther end of it. The woods in the glen were all in their freshest green, but now they seemed gleaming with gold. The colours and shadows on the silver waters of the loch were indescribably beautiful.
Rowena turned to meet her husband’s eyes resting on her in grave content.
“Oh,” she said, throwing out her hands, “isn’t it easy to be good and happy with such a scene as this before one’s eyes! I thought I remembered the beauties of our loch, but it has come to me with fresh force this evening. Hugh, I hope I shall live and die here. I never shall want to leave it.”
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