My Heart's in the Highlands
Copyright© 2024 by Amy Le Feuvre
Chapter 4: The Birthday Gift
“A glory gilds the sacred page,
Majestic like the sun
It 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.”
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