CHAPTER XI.
A JOYFUL SURPRISE.
Having arrived safely at Kinlochlinn, Charlie, with a heavy heart and anxious mind approached his father's house, when seeing no one about and the blind in his father's room drawn down, misgivings crept through his mind; he entered the house and walked quietly up stairs to his own room, the door of which he found partly open, and which joined that of his father's.
Entering cautiously for fear of disturbing his father, a sight met his gaze which compelled him to halt at the entrance. Before the mirror stood a lady arranging her hair. Standing spell-bound with the handle of the door in his hand, he wondered who it could be that had taken the liberty of using his room; the object of his contemplation stood still for an instant, then turned suddenly round with a half scream, and Bella McKay and Charlie stood face to face.
Notwithstanding the changes which two years had made on them, the recognition was instantaneous on both sides, and the names "Charlie" and "Bella" escaped unconsciously from their lips at the same moment. A visible change had taken place in both, but it was an undeniable improvement. Bella had now become a tall, handsomely-formed lady; her hair had taken a darker shade, and a stateliness was perceptible in all her movements, which struck the young Advocate with wonder and admiration.
Charlie's looks and manners made a no less favourable impression on Bella; his former fresh colour had given place to a slight paleness, his fine high forehead was stamped by the effects of hard study; this, with a slight beard, which encircled his chin, gave him a more manly appearance.
He was somewhat altered in form and stature, and was dressed in black, which added to his appearance.
After looking at each other for a short time in silence and confusion, they both adjourned to the sitting-room, each taking a seat at separate windows. An unpleasant pause now took place, Charlie finding himself in the company of his former love, but now, he thought Lady Lundy; and Bella in the presence of her former love, but now, as she believed, her cousin's husband.
Bella was the first to break the silence, by asking whether he was accompanied by Mrs. Stuart, her face being turned towards the lawn while she spoke, and her voice being husky and tremulous. Charlie, thinking he had misunderstood the question, replied, "I beg your Ladyship's pardon, I believe I have not heard you correctly, or whether you asked if some Mrs. Stuart accompanied me." Bella turned her streaming eyes upon him, half doubting and half believing her ears, and earnestly enquired whether he was really married to her cousin Catherine. The young Advocate at once satisfied her that he had not yet had that fortune, but in return asked his interrogator whether her noble husband, Lord Lundy, was at the castle. It was now Bella's turn to be surprised, and replied that she never had, or wished to have, the honour of receiving that title.
We will not attempt to describe the happy meeting of the restored lovers, but rather draw a veil over the joyful scene which ensued—the many explanations, the jealousies they suffered, the anxieties of mind, and lastly, the despairing state of their feelings on seeing the articles in the newspapers which extinguished their hopes and crowned their miseries. Solemn vows of constancy were exchanged between them, that no earthly power should in future interrupt the smooth current of their love.
Charlie was, however, sorry for the unintentional impression he had made on the heart of Catherine Forbes, through his partiality to her, on account of her being so like her cousin; and Bella was now made fully confident of her lover's faithfulness by his regard for her cousin, through the resemblance that existed between them. Such was the substance of their joyful union, as they sat side by side on a sofa, Charlie with one arm round Bella's tapering waist, with his other hand imprisoned on her delicate hands, drinking draughts of love from each other's eyes.
Bella related to her lover without reserve, and for the first time, her long and underlying love for him; how her father through the flattery of Lord Lundy, carried her away against her will to London; how his Lordship persecuted her while there with his addresses, particularly when he attained his majority, demanding her as his bride, after gaining her uncle's intercession, which compelled her to leave at once and seek her father's protection, at whose feet she flung herself, entreating his sympathy in her behalf. When her father wished to know the cause of her objections to Lord Lundy, she gave as an excuse that she had no inclination to change her state, at least for some years to come; and through her tears and supplications he promised his intercession.
On hearing of Mr. Stuart's illness she obtained leave of her father to visit and attend on him. The day before, on finding himself getting worse, he consented to send for his son, and that day, she came over earlier than usual, in order to write the letter, as Mr. Stuart was unable to do so.
On hearing that Mr. Stuart was asleep, she entered Charlie's room, laid aside her bonnet and shawl, and arranged her hair. While doing so, her mind was taken up with the letter she was to write to her former lover, but now another's. At that instant the object of her thoughts appeared before her in the glass, and, not knowing whether it was the influence of her imagination or his spirit, she gave the scream.
How long the lovers remained in fond communion, or how the time swept over their heads, they knew not, until the housekeeper entered with a mournful countenance, intimating that Mr. Stuart had awoke from a troublesome sleep, and, apparently much weaker, had inquired whether Bella had arrived.
The lovers' happiness was soon clouded by this mournful intelligence, and Bella instantly sprung up and entreated Charlie not to enter his father's room until she had prepared the invalid for the meeting. On entering the chamber, Bella perceived at a glance the truth of the housekeeper's remarks; a visible change for the worse had taken place in his looks and voice. On approaching the bedside, he said feebly—"My dear girl, I fear it is too late now to send for my poor boy; something tells me that my hours are but few in this world, and that I shall never see him again."
"Have better hopes, dear friend, you will see your son yet, I hope; what if I were to bring him to you before night," replied Bella, cheeringly.
"You are indeed my guardian angel, but I fear that that is beyond your power," replied Mr. Stuart, despondingly.
"We will see," added Bella encouragingly; then opened the door, and the impatient son rushed into his father's arms.
The scene which took place between father and son was most affecting, and Bella had to leave the room to hide her tears. The fond and affectionate son was overwhelmed at the ravages the short illness had committed on that once noble form, who could now hardly return the warm embrace of his devoted son.
The invalid, in a feeble and impressive voice, called the young couple to his bedside; then told Charlie of the indefatigable attention that Bella had paid him since her arrival, and now as his last hour was fast approaching, he felt himself duty hound to reveal certain facts which preyed on his mind, in order to release himself from his share of the obligations which they imposed upon him, and which he always considered sacred and binding on a Christian and man of honour.
He then directed his son to open a private drawer in his escritoire, and to bring from thence some papers which he was to read aloud.
The first of these was a cold and formal notice from Mr. McKay, as Lord Lundy's factor, stating that nobleman's intentions not to renew Mr. Stuart's lease, which would expire on first Martinmas.
After the reading of this document, the young lovers looked at each other in amazement and despair; but the contents of the other two overwhelmed them, one of which was as follows, and was addressed also to Mr. Stuart:—
"I believe a certain rash and inconsiderate agreement was entered into between us at the birth of our children, that when they became of age, and with their own consent, they should be united in marriage. Now, as this was only in conformity with certain absurd and ancient customs, and quite at variance with our modern and more enlightened forms of contracting marriages, I hope you will view it in that light, viz., a piece of romantic folly and invalid, imposing despotic and arbitrary restrictions upon innocent and involuntary young people, especially since my daughter has better prospects in view. McKay."
The third, and last document, was a valid contract of marriage executed, between the neighbours, duly signed and attested according to the substance of the above note, that Charlie and Bella should become man and wife on attaining their majority.
A blush of happiness overspread their countenances for a moment, but this was soon clouded by a sense of despair, on recollecting the objections to the conditions by one of the party, Mr. McKay.
Mr. Stuart at once interpreted their thoughts, and the anguish depicted in their countenances; with a resigned and affecting tone, he said, that considering himself in honour bound to express his own feelings regarding the contract, he would therefore unreservedly state, that he always concurred with its sentiments, and never for one moment had he altered his mind regarding it, provided the young couple themselves were agreeable. This brought them at once, hand in hand, on their knees at the bedside, seeking his blessing on their vows of constancy, which they would maintain until death, whatever obstacles were thrown in their way.
Mr. Stuart was greatly moved at these solemn protestations; then placing his hands on their heads, evoked the blessing of heaven on their vows, and concluded his share of the responsibility which the contract imposed on him, by giving his full consent.
His voice by degrees became inaudible, and the hands which were placed on their heads became heavy.
Bella at length raised her eyes, and whispered to Charlie—"He sleeps."
Charlie removed the hand gently from his own head, which he found cold, when the awful truth at once flashed upon his mind—his noble soul had taken its flight to another sphere!
Great was the grief manifested in all parts of the country at the decease of the generous and amiable Mr. Stuart. A solemn and large procession followed his remains to their last resting place.
An incident took place on this mournful occasion which filled many with admiration and surprise, and which proved the veneration in which the deceased gentleman was held by his domestics.
Old Munro, who served all his lifetime in the employ of the Stuarts as piper, and other useful situations, had not for some time played except on special occasions, as his son was now grown up and able to relieve his father from that task, and was equally proficient, through his tuition, and the McKay's, the king of pipers.
On this day, however, old Munro struck up his large pipes to the surprise of all, particularly his own son, and played as of yore at the head of the procession, beside his son, keeping pace to the stop, and each note of the mournful wail—"the Lament of the Dead."
The distance to the churchyard was something considerable, and only fit for younger lungs, such as Donald's, to keep up the strain. Donald often cast a glance at the old veteran, expecting every moment to see him drop under the severe performance, but he was mistaken; the old piper, as if animated by some spiritual power, with a firm step, never missed the slightest note, or ceased the thrilling strain until the remains were placed in their narrow home. Then, with heroic animation, he took his old favourite instrument, which had often swelled the heart of many a Highlander, and smashed it into atoms against one of the gravestones, exclaiming in Gaelic—"Gu la bhrath cha chlinun mae mather fuuim mo mheur a'd dheigh" ("Never more shall a mother's son hear the notes of my fingers after thee.") This was but too true, for the faithful old piper had so strained his lungs that a rapid consumption supervened, which carried him to his grave, and he was shortly afterwards laid near his old master in Killinn churchyard.