Chapter XXXII: In the Springtime

Why was there no mention of Lord Earlshope in the letters from Airlie which reached the Whaup in his Glasgow lodgings? The Whaup was too proud to ask; but he many a time wondered whether Earlshope was now paying visits to the Manse, as in the bygone time, and watching the progress of Coquette's restoration to health. Indeed, the letters that came up from the moorland village were filled with nothing but Coquette, and Coquette, and Coquette. The boys now openly called her by this familiar name; and her sayings and doings, the presents she made them, and the presents she promised to give them when she should go to Glasgow, occupied their correspondence almost to the exclusion of stories of snow-battles with the lads of the neighbourhood.

At last the Whaup wrote and asked what Lord Earlshope was doing.

The reply came that he had not been in Airlie since the previous autumn.

"Why, he must be mad!" said the Whaup to himself. "Not go on to his own house, when he was within two or three miles of it! These French novels have turned his head; we shall have him presently figuring as the hero of a fine bigamy case, or poisoning himself with charcoal fumes, or doing something equally French. Perhaps he has done something desperate in his youth, and now reads French novels to see what they have to say on the subject."

Among other intelligence sent him by his correspondents during the winter was that on the morning of New Year's Day (Coquette had been astonished to find that Christmas was held of no account in Airlie) there had arrived at the Manse, directed to that young lady, a large and magnificent volume of water-colour sketches of the Loire. The grandeur of this book--its binding and its contents--was all a marvel at the Manse; and the youngest of the Whaup's brothers expressed his admiration in these terms:

"It is most wonderful. The boards is made of tortis-shell, with white saytin and wreaths of silk roses and flowers in different colours all round it. There is a back of scaurlet marrocca leather, with gilt. And she put it on the table, and when she began to turn it over she laughed, and clapped her hands thegither, and was fair daft with looking at it; but, as she went on, she stopped, and we all saw that she was greetin'. I suppose it was some place she kenned."

No one knew definitely who had sent this gorgeous book--not even Coquette herself; but the popular opinion of the Manse determined that it must have been Lady Drum. There were only two people, widely apart, who had another suspicion in the matter; and these two were Coquette and the Whaup. Meanwhile, if the book had come from Lord Earlshope, it was accompanied by no sign or token from him; and, indeed, his name was now scarcely ever mentioned in the Manse.

And so the long and hard winter passed away: and there came at last a new light into the air, and soft and thawing winds from over the sea. The spring had arrived, with its warm and sweet breezes; and all over the countryside there began to peep out tiny buds of brown and green, with here and there, in many a secret nook and corner, the wonder of a flower. And at last, too, Coquette got out of the house, and began to drink in new life from the mild odours and the clear blue-white air. Her eyes were perhaps a trifle wistful or even sad when she first got abroad again; for the springtime revives many memories, and is not always a glad season; but in a little while the stirring of new health and blood in Coquette's pale cheeks began to recall her to her usual spirits. The morning was her principal time for going out; and, as the boys were then at Mr. Gillespie's school, she learned to wander about alone, discovering all manner of secret dells about the woods where the wild flowers were sure to be found. Many and many a day she came home laden with hyacinths, and violets, and anemones, and the white stars of the stitch wort; and she brought home, too, a far more valuable and beautiful flower in the bloom which everyone saw gathering on her cheek. Sometimes she prevailed on her uncle to accompany her; and she would take the old man's arm and lead him into strange woodland places of which he had but little knowledge. Leezibeth was so delighted to see the girl become her former self, that she was more than ordinarily pugnacious towards Andrew, as if that worthy but sour-tempered person had been harbouring dark projects against the girl's health. Leezibeth, indeed, had wholly gone over to the enemy; and Andrew sadly shook his head and comforted himself with prophecies of evil and lamentation.

One day Coquette had wandered down to the very wood in which the Whaup had caught Neil Lamont poaching. She had been exceptionally lucky in her quest for new flowers; and had got up a quite respectable bouquet for the study mantel-piece. Then she had that morning received from France a little song of Gounod's, which was abundantly popular there at the time. So, out of mere lightness of heart, she came walking through the wood, and sang to herself carelessly as she went--

La voile ouvre son aile
La brise va souffler--er--er--er--

when suddenly her voice died down. Who was that going along the road in the direction of Airlie? A faintness came over her--she caught hold of a branch of a fir--and then with a half instinctive fear she drew back within the shelter of a few tall stems. It was Lord Earlshope who was passing along the road--walking slowly and idly--and apparently taking no notice of the objects around him.

Her heart beat quickly, and her whole frame trembled, as she remained cowering until even the sound of his footsteps had died away. Then she stole out of the wood, and hurriedly followed a circuitous route which landed her breathless, and yet thankful, within the safety of the Manse. He had not observed her.

But he was in the neighbourhood. He had returned from abroad. Perhaps he would go away again without even seeing her and speaking to her for a moment--unless, indeed, she happened to be out the next morning and so might chance to meet him!

"You must not fall back into any of your dull moods, Catherine," said the Minister, in a cheerful way, to her that evening, as he happened to perceive her unwonted silence, and the pensive look of her eyes.