There are some who, by their very backwardness and , attract attention and excite curiosity. I have met many such, both professionally and socially, and the breaking down of their reserve has always been interesting; but, than the case of Nathan Hebron, none has more substantially repaid the time and trouble which the process of involved. To outsiders I presume Nathan is an . Not so to us who live with him. I needn't attempt to explain the feeling of confidence which he inspires, or the power which he unconsciously exerts in our little household circle. Words cannot convey it—it must be experienced to be understood; and though Betty is always to the , always taking the initiative, I know she feels that somewhere in the background, almost without her knowledge, but ever in her reckoning, is the force, the power, the quiet, unobtrusive, dependable Nathan. And yet, strange to say, could I probe to the quick of his feelings, I know I should find that, in his 'stablished estimation, Betty, and Betty alone, stands for everything that the term ' and tower of strength' conveys.
Of late I have been wondering how best I can advance Nathan's worldly interests and lighten his burden without taking him away altogether from the calling of his choice. Somehow I don't think he would be happy without a spade in his hand and denied access to leaf-mould. He is too old to fit into a new , and I must remember that were I, even with the best intentions, carefully to an old tree from amongst the shadows and replant it in the sunshine it would surely die. Still, I should like to do something to make his gloaming life easier. I have often felt sorry for him, leaving his comfortable house on mornings, working his day's darg, and returning when darkness had long settled down. Outdoor work under weather conditions is agreeable enough; but when it is carried on under a cold, leaden sky, amidst frost and snow, and in biting winds, it is stripped of much of its pleasure and poetry. Thinking in this strain, the idea came to me that I might glass-houses in our garden here, and encourage Nathan to devote the whole of his time to the of tomatoes. I have already mentioned my scheme to the doctor, and he approves of it; but I have said nothing to Betty or Nathan. I must see to it one of these days.
I had a long, pleasant this afternoon. The air was clear and invigorating; I was feeling up and buoyant; and as for Jip and Bang, I never saw them in a more sportive, energetic mood. We walked through Rashbrigs , past Dabton Loch, and round by Longmire, where I called and spent an hour with Farmer Russell. Bang killed a rat in the steading just before we left, and he wagged his stumpy tail and tried to raise his ear all the way home. The dogs preceded me into the house, and I stumbled after them through the darkened lobby and into the darker dining-room.
'Hallo, Betty,' I said as I entered; 'not lit up yet?'
Betty was over at the window in the act of pulling down the blind, which, strangely enough, she always does before she lights the gas.
'Oh, it's you, Maister Weelum,' she said. 'It's that dark I can scarcely see ye;' but she continued inactive, looking round at me with the window-blind cord hanging loose in her hand. The firelight was low, and the light which came through the window from the village lamp across the street made the darkness only more visible. I could make Betty out, as she was against the window; but, though all around was in black shadow which my eyes could not , I had the feeling that some one else was present. As I peered around, a tall visionary figure moved to my right, and Betty came toward me from the window.
'This is Miss Stuart,' she said, 'the lady that's pentin' wee Isobel Jardine's picter. She's been workin' at it a' efternoon. I was tellin' her aboot your new yin, an' I asked her in to see it.—An', Miss Stuart, this is my boy—my wean I used to ca' him—Maister Weelum, or raither, as I should say, Maister Russell. Mrs Jardine an' me were tellin' ye aboot him. Imphm!' And as Betty breathlessly finished her introduction, and, without further ado, turned to break the fire into a glow, Miss Stuart and I gravely bowed.
I couldn't see our visitor's face, but her figure was strangely familiar to me, and my pulse quickened.
'Miss Stuart,' said Betty, 'will ye please sit here till I licht the gas?' and she wheeled the easy-chair, which usually stands opposite mine, within the of the glow from the fire.
'Oh, thank you very much, Mrs Hebron,' said a voice I knew well; 'but I'm afraid I must be going. I'll—I'll not sit down, thank you. Mr Russell will be'——
'Delighted to see you seated, Miss Stuart,' I interposed. 'I have very few lady visitors these days, and I do assure you you are welcome.'
'Eh! that's weel said, Maister Weelum,' Betty chimed in; 'and it's true too.—Ye canna but sit doon, if it's only to please him, no' to speak o' me;' and, as Miss Stuart graciously complied, she out to the kitchen for a match.
In her absence I struck a light and lit the gas, and as Miss Stuart's eyes met mine we both smiled. Nathan on one occasion to me, and in doing so he established a paction between us. In the same way, but more emphatically, this smile a feeling of , a consciousness that the Fates were playing with us, and that we recognised the success of their manipulations.
'Betty has been talking to me a good deal about you lately, Miss Stuart,' I said as I drew in my chair. 'Somehow, from the first I associated you, the subject of her talk and the painter of Isobel's portrait, with my good Samaritan of Nithbank Wood; and I am not surprised to find that I was right.'
'Indeed, Mr Russell!' she said, and again she smiled. 'Well, I have been hearing about you also of late from both Mrs Hebron and Mrs Jardine; and, like you, I am'——But before she could finish her sentence Betty re-entered with a lighted , and in its warm yellow glow her face shone like a radiant moon.
'Ah, Maister Weelum,' she said, 'for aince ye've managed that "" licht. Thae newfangled things are fashious, an' it's a cauld-lookin' licht; but there's economy in it, Miss Stuart—imphm! An', my me! excuse me, miss, but it does my he'rt guid to see ye sittin' in that chair.' And in a flash my mind went back to our crack, and I remembered her words, 'It's a gey comfortable-lookin' chair, that yin opposite ye, Maister Weelum; an', d'ye , I met a leddy the day that I wad like to see sittin' in it.'
'Betty,' I said, 'Miss Stuart and I are not altogether strangers; we have met once or twice in an informal way; but, now that we have been brought together to-night, under your , don't you think—just to signalise the event—you might offer her a cup of tea?'
'Eh, Maister Weelum! you read me like a book. I was juist gaun to suggest that. The kettle's at the boil, an' it'll no' tak' me a meenit. Will—will I bring doon the tea-set frae the drawin'-room—your mother's, ye ken?'
'Yes, yes, Betty, if you please; and Miss Stuart will honour us in handseling it. It hasn't been used since I came here;' and before my guest could say 'Yea' or 'Nay,' Betty had disappeared.
I drew the chair nearer the fire, and, pipe in hand, was about to ask my vis-à-vis if I might smoke, when I saw her gaze wander round the walls of my room and ultimately rest on my picture.
'Oh, Mr Russell,' she exclaimed, as she rose to her feet—'why, that is surely the picture I painted?'
'It is, Miss Stuart,' I quietly said. 'It's the picture you had just finished the first time I saw you in the flesh, and I assure you I am very proud to be the possessor of it.'
She stood looking up at it, beating a with her fingers on the table, and I saw the warm blood mounting her neck and cheek.
'I hope you don't mind my having it?' I asked.
'Oh no; but—well, you must have put yourself to some trouble to get it—more than it's worth, I'm afraid, for it was presented to a many miles away; and, you'll pardon me, but I cannot understand your putting so much value on it. It is really not a good bit of work, though the subject appealed to me so much.'
'Now, Miss Stuart, please do not my purchase—your labour of love, I may call it. I know a little about art; in fact, though I don't paint now, it has always been, and still is, my hobby, and in my you have no reason to be ashamed of this example of your handiwork. As to my in buying it—well, I am a native of this village, as Betty has perhaps already told you, and to me it and its environs will ever be my earthly paradise. I know every step of the countryside around. As a boy I hunted in its fields, explored its woods, and fished its streams. During the years I have been settled in Edinburgh, never a day has passed but my thoughts have strayed homeward, and the identical spot on which you this picture is the one, above all others, around which my most hallowed memories are centred. Whenever I thought of my quiet village home my mind down the Gillfoot road, and the view which inspired you to this effort has always been with me, for it is, as it were, photographed on my brain.'
'Oh, I quite understand you,' she said slowly—'quite. But how did you find out where it was for sale?'
'Well, I had very little difficulty in that,' I laughingly replied. 'Talking of sales, though—pardon my introducing the commercial element into our conversation, Miss Stuart—but I would like very much to have a companion picture to this one, something local of course. I'll leave the price to yourself. There's no hurry, you know; only I should be sorry to miss the opportunity of another, treated with the same loving skill.'
'How much did you pay for this one?' she asked, with a twinkle in her eye.
'Well—I—I really cannot tell you exactly. You see, I didn't buy it myself. I happened to hear your clerical friend say something about the Laurieston bazaar; so I wrote to Ormskirk, my clerk, giving him the few particulars I , and he managed everything to my satisfaction. The price he paid for it will be down: he stated it in his letter, but as it was of importance I don't remember the exact figure.'
I had risen from my chair when she stood up to examine the picture; and, thinking she might be tired standing, I asked her to sit down. She made no response, however; and, lost in thought, looked long into the glowing fire.
'Ormskirk! Mr Ormskirk, your confidential clerk!' she repeated slowly. 'The name seems familiar to me. Oh yes, now I remember;' and she laughed cheerily, and gave me a
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