CHAPTER X.
THE RETURN OF THE SHADOW.
I woke with a heavy heart the next morning, for I knew that Jim would behome before long, and that it would be a day of trouble. But how muchtrouble that day was to bring, or how far it would alter the lives ofus, was more than I had ever thought in my darkest moments. But let metell you it all, just in the order that it happened.
I had to get up early that morning; for it was just the first flush ofthe lambing, and my father and I were out on the moors as soon as it wasfairly light. As I came out into the passage a wind struck upon myface, and there was the house door wide open, and the grey light drawinganother door upon the inner wall. And when I looked again there wasEdie's room open also, and de Lapp's too; and I saw in a flash what thatgiving of presents meant upon the evening before. It was aleave-taking, and they were gone.
My heart was bitter against Cousin Edie as I stood looking into herroom. To think that for the sake of a newcomer she could leave us allwithout one kindly word, or as much as a hand-shake. And he, too!I had been afraid of what would happen when Jim met him; but now thereseemed to be something cowardly in this avoidance of him. I was angryand hurt and sore, and I went out into the open without a word to myfather, and climbed up on to the moors to cool my flushed face.
When I got up to Corriemuir I caught my last glimpse of Cousin Edie.The little cutter still lay where she had anchored, but a rowboat waspulling out to her from the shore. In the stern I saw a flutter of red,and I knew that it came from her shawl. I watched the boat reach theyacht and the folk climb on to her deck. Then the anchor came up, thewhite wings spread once more, and away she dipped right out to sea.I still saw that little red spot on the deck, and de Lapp standingbeside her. They could see me also, for I was outlined against the sky,and they both waved their hands for a long time, but gave it up at lastwhen they found that I would give them no answer.
I stood with my arms folded, feeling as glum as ever I did in my life,until their cutter was only a square hickering patch of white among themists of the morning. It was breakfast time and the porridge upon thetable before I got back, but I had no heart for the food. The old folkhad taken the matter coolly enough, though my mother had no word toohard for Edie; for the two had never had much love for each other, andless of late than ever.
"There's a letter here from him," said my father, pointing to a notefolded up on the table; "it was in his room. Maybe you would read it tous."
They had not even opened it; for, truth to tell, neither of the goodfolk were very clever at reading ink, though they could do well with afine large print.
It was addressed in big letters to "The good people of West Inch;" andthis was the note, which lies before me all stained and faded as Iwrite:
"My friends,-- I didn't thought to have left you so suddenly, but the matter was in other hands than mine. Duty and honour have called me back to my old comrades. This you will doubtless understand before many days are past. I take your Edie with me as my wife; and it may be that in some more peaceful time you will see us again at West Inch. Meanwhile, accept the assurance of my affection, and believe me that I shall never forget the quiet months which I spent with you, at the time when my life would have been worth a week at the utmost had I been taken by the Allies. But the reason of this you may also learn some day."
"Yours," "BONAVENTURE DE LISSAC" "(Colonel des Voltigeurs de la Garde, et aide-de-camp de S.M.I. L'Empereur Napoleon.")
I whistled when I came to those words written under his name; for thoughI had long made up my mind that our lodger could be none other than oneof those wonderful soldiers of whom we had heard so much, who had forcedtheir way into every capital of Europe, save only our own, still I hadlittle thought that our roof covered Napoleon's own aide-de-camp and acolonel of his Guard.
"So," said I, "de Lissac is his name, and not de Lapp. Well, colonel orno, it is as well for him that he got away from here before Jim laidhands upon him. And time enough, too," I added, peeping out at thekitchen window, "for here is the man himself coming through the garden."
I ran to the door to meet him, feeling that I would have given a deal tohave him back in Edinburgh again. He came running, waving a paper overhis head; and I thought that maybe he had a note from Edie, and that itwas all known to him. But as he came up I saw that it was a big, stiff,yellow paper which crackled as he waved it, and that his eyes weredancing with happiness.
"Hurrah, Jock!" he shouted. "Where is Edie? Where is Edie?"
"What is it, man?" I asked.
"Where is Edie?"
"What have you there?"
"It's my diploma, Jock. I can practise when I like. It's all right.I want to show it to Edie."
"The best you can do is to forget all about Edie," said I.
Never have I seen a man's face change as his did when I said thosewords.
"What! What d'ye mean, Jock Calder?" he stammered.
He let go his hold of the precious diploma as he spoke, and away it wentover the hedge and across the moor, where it stuck flapping on awhin-bush; but he never so much as glanced at it. His eyes were bentupon me, and I saw the devil's spark glimmer up in the depths of them.
"She is not worthy of you," said I.
He gripped me by the shoulder.
"What have you done?" he whispered. "This is some of yourhanky-panky! Where is she?"
"She's off with that Frenchman who lodged here."
I had been casting about in my mind how I could break it gently to him;but I was always backward in speech, and I could think of nothing betterthan this.
"Oh!" said he, and stood nodding his head and looking at me, though Iknew very well that he could neither see me, nor the steading, noranything else. So he stood for a minute or more, with his handsclenched and his head still nodding. Then he gave a gulp in his throat,and spoke in a queer dry, rasping voice.
"When was this?" said he.
"This morning."
"Were they married?"
"Yes."
He put his hand against the door-post to steady himself.
"Any message for me?"
"She said that you would forgive her."
"May God blast my soul on the day I do! Where have they gone to?"
"To France, I should judge."
"His name was de Lapp, I think?"
"His real name is de Lissac; and he is no less than a colonel in Boney'sGuards."
"Ah! he would be in Paris, likely. That is well! That is well!"
"Hold up!" I shouted. "Father! Father! Bring the brandy!"
His knees had given way for an instant, but he was himself again beforethe old man came running with the bottle.
"Take it away!" said he.
"Have a soop, Mister Horscroft," cried my father, pressing it upon him."It will give you fresh heart!"
He caught hold of the bottle and sent it flying over the garden hedge.
"It's very good for those who wish to forget," said he; "I am going toremember!"
"May God forgive you for sinfu' waste!" cried my father aloud.
"And for well-nigh braining an officer of his Majesty's infantry!" saidold Major Elliott, putting his head over the hedge. "I could have donewith a nip after a morning's walk, but it is something new to have awhole bottle whizz past my ear. But what is amiss, that you all standround like mutes at a burying?"
In a few words I told him our trouble, while Jim, with a grey face andhis brows drawn down, stood leaning against the door-post. The Majorwas as glum as we by the time I had finished, for he was fond both ofJim and of Edie.
"Tut, tut!" said he. "I feared something of the kind ever since thatbusiness of the peel tower. It's the way with the French. They can'tleave the women alone. But, at least, de Lissac has married her, andthat's a comfort. But it's no time now to think of our own littletroubles, with all Europe in a roar again, and another twenty years' warbefore us, as like as no
t."
"What d'ye mean?" I asked.
"Why, man, Napoleon's back from Elba, his troops have flocked to him,and Louis has run for his life. The news was in Berwick this morning."
"Great Lord!" cried my father. "Then the weary business is all to doover again!"
"Aye, we thought we were out from the shadow, but it's still there.Wellington is ordered from Vienna to the Low Countries, and it isthought that the Emperor will break out first on that side. Well, it'sa bad wind that blows nobody any good. I've just had news that I am tojoin the 71st as senior major."
I shook hands with our good neighbour on this, for I knew how it hadlain upon his mind that he should be a cripple, with no part to play inthe world.
"I am to join my regiment as soon as I can; and we shall be over yonderin a month, and in Paris, maybe, before another one is over."
"By the Lord, then, I'm with you, Major!" cried Jim Horscroft. "I'm nottoo proud to carry a musket, if you will put me in front of thisFrenchman."
"My lad, I'd be proud to have you serve under me," said the Major. "Andas to de Lissac, where the Emperor is he will be."
"You know the man," said I. "What can you tell us of him?"
"There is no better officer in the French army, and that is a big wordto say. They say that he would have been a marshal, but he preferred tostay at the Emperor's elbow. I met him two days before Corunna, when Iwas sent with a flag to speak about our wounded. He was with Soultthen. I knew him again when I saw him."
"And I will know him again when I see him!" said Horscroft, with the olddour look on his face.
And then at that instant, as I stood there, it was suddenly driven hometo me how poor and purposeless a life I should lead while this crippledfriend of ours and the companion of my boyhood were away in theforefront of the storm. Quick as a flash my resolution was taken.
"I'll come with you too, Major," I cried.
"Jock! Jock!" said my father, wringing his hands.
Jim said nothing, but put his arm half round me and hugged me.The Major's eyes shone and he flourished his cane in the air.
"My word, but I shall have two good recruits at my heels," said he."Well, there's no time to be lost, so you must both be ready for theevening coach."
And this was what a single day brought about; and yet years pass away sooften without a change. Just think of the alteration in thatfour-and-twenty hours. De Lissac was gone. Edie was gone. Napoleonhad escaped. War had broken out. Jim Horscroft had lost everything,and he and I were setting out to fight against the French. It was alllike a dream, until I tramped off to the coach that evening, and lookedback at the grey farm steading and at the two little dark figures: mymother with her face sunk in her Shetland shawl, and my father wavinghis drover's stick to hearten me upon my way.