the consequences of its presence in that house. Who would believe her incredible story? Certainly not those incredulous canny queer folk of which a Lowland Scotch village is composed. The purpose of the wretched mother seemed evident; she had sinned the woman’s sin, and was attempting to throw the shame on innocent shoulders. What could poor frightened Jessie plead to save herself in her great dilemma? Nothing satisfactory. Sins of that sort had often been cleverly concealed until the appearance of the new-born accuser. No one would believe her. Heaven seemed against her. She was lost.
By a sudden affrighted impulse she had lifted up the child, and was lulling it on her bosom as these thoughts passed through her brain. Every sound startled her as she did so. What if some of the neighbours should hear the cries? She walked up and down the house, trembling all over, holding the baby in her arms. It was soon quieted; the great staring blue eyes resumed their composure, and the sucking operation was resumed. The pale morning light fell upon the girl’s pale frightened face, blinding her; she closed the shutters. She felt as if she would go mad if the tears did not come to relieve her; but they came not—they were scorched up by her great fear.
The woman in the gamekeeper’s cottage was wrong. Jessie never attempted to alarm the neighbours. Her clear Scotch head detected the whole danger of her situation at once. A medical man might have cleared her, had she thought of that alternative; but there was no doctor in that neighbourhood. The simple fact of the imputation staggered her. But it would have been better far had she alarmed the neighbours; by her secrecy she only laid herself open to more suspicion.
A fierce black element of her nature—an element which lies ready in most natures, but is not always developed by circumstances—was uppermost in her bosom once or twice. She thought of her lover and the slanderous tongues of the villagers. A mad impulse to make away with the child seized upon her; her face darkened, her fingers twitched, and only a strong effort prevented her from strangling the child as it lay, so quietly, in her arms.
Then the womanly instinct arose in her, and conquered all other feelings. She understood the pleading of the little wide eyes, the small pinky face, beaming so innocently with the new life that sinners had given it. Her heart softened. The first scalding tears fell over her cheek; the full fresh torrent burst out, and she wept like a child. The small baby fell asleep. She placed it in bed, tucking it up as tenderly as if it had been her own. Then it was tears, tears, tears.
But the tears exhausted themselves in time; the girl became pale and calm. Her brain was again busy with the strange mystery. She moved to the door; there were no marks of violence; it must have been opened, if opened at all, by a false key. She tried the window next, but found nothing to determine her suspicions; it was firmly shut and bolted, and nobody could have opened it without first breaking the pane. Yes! there was only one clue to the mystery. Somebody must have possessed a latch-key fitting the outer door, and have used it for the purpose of entering during the night. But somehow or other, Jessie did not feel quite satisfied with this solution of the riddle.
Oh! that her stepmother were there to advise her! Even that woman, she thought, would help to relieve her great fear. What was to be done?
The time rolled on. The village was astir; there was a sound of feet and voices. But still Jessie Cameron sat in the little cottage, her head hidden in her hands and her heart quivering through all its pulses. There was no fire in the grate, the shutters were closed, and the place was dark and cold.
Hark! the baby began to cry again! She sprang to her feet, lifted the child from the bed; but in vain. Luckily it struck her that the little thing might want food. There was milk on the dresser; she took it down and broke bread into it. With trembling hands, she began to feed the child.
The morning was wearing on. Jock supped his porridge, put on his coat, and made his way to the smithy. He paused opposite the cottage, but there was nobody visible. Whistling a tune, he took down his shutters. He turned round to look over the way again. The door of the cottage was closed, and the shutters were up. Queer, thought Jock. He entered the smithy and commenced work. No use; he found himself shaking his head, looking over the way, and wondering.
“Can onything hae gane wrang wi’ the lassie?” said Jock to himself.
The bare thought of such a thing was painful. He threw down his tools and stood hesitating.
“I maun e’en gang ower and see if a’s richt wi’ her,” he said.
He walked across the street and paused outside the cottage door. A low sobbing sound fell on his ears as he did so. He trembled in spite of himself. He knocked softly. No answer. Strange, he thought. He tried the door quietly, and found it unlocked. He pushed it open and looked in. There was a loud startled cry inside. His eyes fell upon Jessie Cameron, with the baby on her lap.
His heart leaped up into his mouth. The terrible thought which Jessie dreaded flashed upon him. Jessie could not speak; her tongue refused its office. The man walked over with a fierce look, and placed a firm hand on her shoulders.
“Wha’s wean hae ye there, Jessie Cameron?” he said, between his set teeth. But the girl made no answer; she sat with a dull, stupid look, white as snow.
“Wha’s wean hae ye there, I’m askin’ ye?” he repeated, savagely.
Then, sobbing as if her heart would break, Jessse fell at his feet, with the child in her arms. His suspicions were confirmed by her pale haggard look, and her frightened gestures. She told him the story at last, with hurried words and beseeching looks; the hot true tears fell on the child’s face as she spoke. But he broke out into oaths and bitter curses. Anger at the silly audacity of her falsehood was mingled with anger at her sin. How he would be laughed and pointed at! He felt no pity. His love, which had never been of the most sublimated or unselfish kind, was insulted and wronged. His coarse abuse was horrible to
