Chapter XXI: Coquette Is Troubled

The gale blew hard all that evening; but towards midnight the sky cleared; and the large white moon rose wild and swift into the luminous violet vault, that was still crossed by ragged streaks of grey cloud hurrying over from the sea. All along the dark islands the mournful wash of the waves could be heard; and here, in the quiet of the bay, the wind brought a fresh and salt flavour with it, as it blew in gusts about, and swept onward to stir the birches and brackens of the hills. The Whaup sat up on deck with Lord Earlshope, who was smoking; and they spoke in undertones, for all was quiet below.

"You will get to Oban to-morrow?" asked the Whaup, after some profound meditation.

"I hope so," said Earlshope.

"I shall leave you then, and go back by coach or steamer."

"Has your adventure of this afternoon frightened you?"

"Faith, no! My only fright was when my cousin fainted; and I wished, when I saw that, that every guillemot that ever lived was at the bottom of the sea. But I am getting sick of idleness."

Earlshope laughed.

"You may laugh," said the Whaup; "but it is true. You have earned the right to be idle, because you are a man. For a young fellow like me, with all the world before him, it is miserable to be dawdling away time, you know."

"I quite agree with you," said his companion; "but it seems to me this discovery has come upon you rather suddenly."

"All the more reason," returned the Whaup with confidence, "that it should be acted upon forthwith. I am going to Glasgow. I shall live in lodgings with some fellows I know, and work up my studies for the next session. There is a tremendous deal of work in me, although you might not think it, and I may not see Airlie for two years."

"Why so?"

"Because then I shall be nearer twenty-one than twenty."

"And what will you do then?"

"What shall I do then? Who knows?" said the Whaup, absently.

Next morning the weather was fine, and the wind had calmed. The sea was of a troubled, dark, and shining blue; the far hills of the islands were of a soft and velvet-like brown, with here and there a tinge of red or saffron. The _Caroline_ was soon got under weigh, and began to open out the successive headlands and bays as she stood away towards the north.

Coquette came on deck, and looked out on the sea with an involuntary shudder. Then she turned to find the Whaup regarding her with rather a serious and thoughtful look.

"Ah, you wicked boy, to make me so fearful yesterday evening!" she said.

"But you are quite well this morning?" he asked, anxiously.

"Oh, yes, I am quite well," she said; and the brightness of her face and of her soft dark eyes was sufficient evidence.

"And I got you the guillemot after all," said the Whaup, with some pride. "One of the sailors is preparing both the breast and the pinions for you, and you can wear either you like."

"For your sake, when you are away in Glasgow," she said with a smile. "I did hear what you said last night to Lord Earlshope. I could not sleep with thinking of the black water, and the wind, and the cry of the waves. And will you go away from us now altogether?"

"I must go away sooner or later," said the Whaup.

"But it is a little time until we all go back. Your father, he cannot remain long."

"But I have become restless," said the Whaup, with some impatience.

"And you are anxious to go away?" said Coquette. "It is no compliment to us; but no, I will not speak like that to you. I do think you are right to go. I will hear of you in Glasgow; I will think of you every day; and you will work hard, just as if I could see you and praise you for doing it. Then, you know, some day a long way off, it may be a rainy morning at Airlie, or perhaps even a bright day, and we shall see you come driving up in the dog-cart----"

"Just as you came driving up a few months ago. Does it not seem a long time since then?"

"Yes, a long time," said Coquette; "but I do think this is the best part of it."

The attention of everybody on deck was at this moment directed to the strange currents through which the _Caroline_ had now to force herself--long stretches and swirls in an almost smooth sea, with here and there a boiling-up into a miniature whirlpool of the circling waters. These powerful eddies, their outline marked by streaks of foam, caught the bow of the yacht, and swung it this way or that with a force which threatened to jibe the sails; while now and again she would come to a dead stop, as though the sea were of lead. Far away on their left, between the misty hills of Jura and Scarba, lay the treacherous Corryvreckan, dreaded of fishermen; and they knew that those glassy swirls around them were but the outlying posts and pickets of the racing and channelled tides. But slowly and steadily the _Caroline_ made head through the fierce currents, drawing away from the still breadth of Loch Shuna, and getting further into Scarba Sound, with the desolate island of Luing on the right. How strangely silent lay the long, lone bays and the solitary stretches of shore in the sunlight! There was no sign of life abroad save the hovering in mid-air of the white gannet, or the far and rapid flight of a string of wild ducks sinking down towards the south. But as they drew near the mouth of Scarba Sound--with the great stretch of the Frith of Lorn opening up and the mighty shoulders of the Mull mountains rising faint and grey in the north-west--the solitude grew less absolute. Here and there a boat became visible. They came in sight of the slate-quarries of Easdale. Then a long streak of smoke beyond told them that the great steamer from the North was coming down with her cargo of English tourists from the hills and lochs of Inverness.

They were all on deck when the steamer passed; and doubtless the people who crowded the larger vessel may have regarded the little group in the stern of the yacht as sufficiently picturesque--the tall and grey-haired lady, who had her hand inside the arm of the young girl; the elderly Minister, looking grave and dignified; Lord Earlshope, seated carelessly on one of the skylights; the Whaup waving a handkerchief in reply to several signals of the same kind.

"To-morrow morning," said the Whaup to Lady Drum, "I shall be on board that steamer, going straight down for Crinan; and you--you will be off for Skye, I suppose, or Stornoway, or Cape Wrath?"

"What do you mean?" said his father.

"Has nobody told you? I am going back to Airlie to-morrow, and on to Glasgow, to prepare for the classes. I have had enough idling."

"I am glad to hear it," said the Minister, in a tone which did not betray any strong assurance that the Whaup was to be trusted in these his new resolves.

But Coquette believed him. All the rest of that day, as the _Caroline_ glided through the dark-blue waters--on past Ardencaple Point and Barnacaryn, under the steep crags at the mouth of Loch Feochan, and through the Sound of Kerrem, until she was nearing the calm expanse of Oban Bay--the Whaup perceived that his cousin was almost elaborately kind and attentive to him, and far more serious and thoughtful than was her wont. He himself was a trifle depressed. Having definitely stated his intentions, he would not show weakness at the last moment, and draw back from his promised word; but it was with rather a heavy heart that he went below to gather together his books and put them in order for the last time on board.

"I think I shall sleep on shore to-night," said he, when he reappeared.

"Why?" asked Coquette.

"Because I don't wish to have you all up by seven to-morrow morning. The boat leaves at eight."

"And must we not see you off, and say good-bye?"

"What's the use?" said the Whaup.

Coquette put her hand on his arm, and said, rather shyly:

"I think you would rather come with us. Why not do that? It is very sad and miserable your going all away back by yourself, and I am sorry to think of it, far more for you than if it were for myself. It is very hard lines."

The Whaup laughed in spite of his wretchedness.

"I told you ever so long ago not to say that," he said, "and you promised to remember. Never mind. It's very good of you to concern yourself about me; but I mean to go to-morrow morning. And look there!--there is Oban."

"I do hate the place!" said Coquette, petulantly.

She would scarcely look at the semicircle of white houses stretching round the bay, nor yet at the hills and the scattered villas, nor yet at the brown and desolate old castle built high on the point beyond.

"It is a town," she said, "that row of bare and ugly houses, and the hotels, and the shops. It is not fit for these Highland mountains; it shames them to look down on it--it is so--so dirty-white and shabby."

"What ails ye at the town?" said Lady Drum, who did not like to hear her favourite Oban disparaged.

"A little while ago you would have found Oban quite a grand place," said Lord Earlshope--"quite a gay land fashionable place."

"Fashionable!" said Coquette, with that slight elevation of the eyebrows and the almost imperceptible shrug to which they had all got accustomed. "Fashionable! Perhaps. It is a good promenade before the grocers' shops; and do the ladies who make the fashions live in those dirty-white houses? What is it that they say?--_Qui n'est pas difficile, trouve bientôt un asile_."

"You know the other French proverb?" said Lord Earlshope--"_Jeune femme, pain tendre, et bois vert, mettent la maison en désert_."

"That is possible," said Coquette, "but it is not fashion. You should see Biarritz, Lady Drum, with its sands, and the people, and the music, and the Bay of Biscay, and the Spanish mountains not far. Even I think our little Le Croisic better, where mamma and I lived at the _Etablissement_. But as for this town here, if it is more pleasant-looking than Ardrossan, I will blow me tight!"

The Whaup shrieked with laughter; and Coquette looked puzzled, knowing she had made some dreadful blunder, but not very certain what it was. Lady Drum rescued her from confusion by carrying her off to dress for dinner, and explained to her in their common state-room that she must be careful not to repeat colloquialisms which she had overheard without being quite sure of their propriety. Indeed, when the meaning of the phrase was explained to her, she laughed as much as the Whaup had done, and entered the saloon, where the gentlemen were waiting, with a conscious look on her face which considerably heightened its colour.

"It was you to blame," she said to the Whaup; "I did often hear you say that."

"_Propria quæ maribus_," said he, and they sat down to dinner.

It was felt to be a farewell celebration. The Whaup looked grave and determined--as if he feared he would be moved from his resolution. Coquette stole furtive glances at him; and wondered what she could give him to take with him as a keepsake. The Minister furnished him with directions about certain things to be done at Airlie; Lady Drum made him promise to come and see her when she went to Glasgow; and Lord Earlshope persuaded him to remain on board that night and go ashore in the morning.

When they went on deck after dinner, it was a beautiful clear night, with an almost full moon throwing a flood of silver across the bay from over the dusky island of Kerrera. Above the town the shoulders of the hills were touched with a pale and sombre grey; but a keener light shone along the white fronts of the houses close by the shore; while nearer at hand it touched the masts and rigging of the various craft, and threw sharp black shadows on the deck of the _Caroline_.

"Where is Miss Cassilis?" said Lady Drum, when she had taken her accustomed seat.

At the same moment they heard the first soft notes of the harmonium; and presently there rose into the still night the clear, and sweet, and melancholy cadence of Mendelssohn's gondola-song. The empty silence of the bay seemed to grow full of this rich and harmonious music; until one scarcely knew that the sounds were coming from the open cabin skylight which gleamed an oblong patch of yellow fire in the dusk. The night seemed to be as full of music as of moonlight; it was in the air all around; it was a part of the splendour of the sky, and scarcely to be distinguished from the lapping of the water along the side of the boat. But suddenly she changed the key, and with sharp and powerful chords struck out the proud and ringing melody of "Drumclog." The old Scotch psalm-tune stirred the Whaup, as a trumpet might stir the heart of a dragoon. He rose to his feet, and drew a long breath, as if the plaintive gondola-music had been stifling him.

"What a grand tune that Drumclog is," he said. "It means business. I dare say the old troopers sang it with their teeth set hard, and their hand on their musket-barrels. But did you ever hear it played like that?"

"It is wonderful--wonderful!" said the Minister, with his sad, grey eyes fixed upon the moonlit sea, under the shadows of the lonely island.

You should have seen the Whaup the next morning, bustling about with a determined air, and making, from time to time, a feeble effort to whistle. Coquette had been up before any one on board, and now sat, mute and pale, watching his preparations. Sometimes she turned to look towards the quay, where the vessels lay under the yellow and misty sunlight of the autumn morning.

Then the great steamer came round the point. The Whaup jumped into the gig after having shaken hands with everybody and the boat was pushed off.

"Stop a moment," said Coquette, "I do wish to go with you to the steamer."

So she, also, got into the boat; and together they went in to the quay, and got ashore. The steamer arrived, and the Whaup--still trying at times to whistle--went on board. The first bell was rung.

"Good-bye," said Coquette, holding one of his hands in both of hers. "You will write to me often, often; and when I go back to Airlie I will write to you every week, and tell you what is going on with all the people--even with Leesiebess also. And I will go to see you at Glasgow, if you will not come to Airlie before you have become a great man."

A few minutes afterwards the Whaup was waving his handkerchief to her as the steamer steamed away down the Sound of Kerrera; and Coquette stood on the quay, looking wistfully after the boat, even until the clouds of smoke had become a luminous brown in the morning sunlight.