An Orkney Maid by Amelia Edith Huddleston Barr (best sci fi novels of all time .TXT) 📕

the natural and the proper way. True love dates its birth from the first glance. It is the coming together of two souls, and in their first contact love flashes forth like flame. And then their influence over each other is like that gravitation which one star exerts over another star.

But much that passes for love is not love. It is only a prepossession, pleasant and profitable, promising many every-day advantages. True love is a deep and elemental thing, a secret incredible glory, in a way, it is even a spiritual triumph. And we should have another name for love like this. For it is the long, long love, that has followed us through ages, the healing love, the Comforter! In the soul of a young, innocent girl like Thora, it is a kind of piety, and ought to be taken with a wondering thankfulness.

An emotion so spiritual and profound was beyond Sunna's understanding. She divined that there had been some sort of love-making, but she was unfamiliar with its present indications. Her opinion, however, was that Ian had offered himself to Thora, and been rejected; in no other way could she account for the far-offness of both parties. Thora indeed was inexplicable. She not only refused to show Sunna her Easter dress, she would not enter into any description of it.

"That is a very remarkable thing," she said to her grandfather, as they walked home together. "I think the young man made love to Thora and even asked her to marry him, and Thora was frightened and said 'No!' and she is likely sorry now that she did not say 'Yes.'"

"To say 'No!' would not have frightened thee, I suppose?"

"That is one of the disagreeable things women have to get used to."

"How often must a woman say 'No!' in order to get used to it?"

"That depends on several small things; for instance I am very sympathetic. I have a tender heart! Yes, and so I suffer."

"I am glad to know of thy sympathy. If I asked thee to marry a young man whom I wished thee to marry, would thou do it--just to please me?"

"It would depend--on my mood that day."

"Say, it was thy sympathetic mood?"

"That would be unfavourable. Of the others I should think, and I should feel that I was cruel; if I took all hope from them."

"Thou wilt not be reasonable. I am not joking. Would thou marry Boris to please me?"

"Boris has offended me. He must come to me, and say, 'I am sorry.' He must take what punishment I choose for his rudeness to me. Then, I may forgive him."

"And marry him?"

"Only my angel knows, if it is so written. Men do not like to do as their women say they must do. Is there any man in the Orcades who dares to say 'No,' to his wife's 'Yes?'"

"What of Sandy Stark?"

"Sandy is a Scot! I do not use a Scotch measure for a Norseman. Thou art not a perfect Norseman, but yet, even in Edinburgh, there is no Scot that could be thy measure. I should have to say--'thou art five inches taller than the Scot at thy side, and forty pounds heavier, and nearly twice as strong.' That would not be correct to an ounce, but it is as near as it is possible to come between Norse and Scot."

"Thou art romancing!"

"As for the Norse women----"

"About Norse women there is no need for thee to teach thy grandfather. I know what Norse women are like. If I did not know, I should have married again."

"Well then, Barbara Brodie is a good specimen of a capable Norse woman and I have noticed one thing about them, that I feel ought to be better understood."

"Chut! What hast thou understood? Talk about it, and let thy wisdom be known."

"Well then, it is this thing--Norse women always outlive their husbands. Thou may count by tens and hundreds the widows in this town. The 'maidens of blushing fifteen' have no opportunities; the widow of fifty asks a young man into her beautiful home and makes him acquainted with the burden of her rents and dividends and her share in half a dozen trading boats, and he takes to the golden lure and marries himself like the rest of the world. Thou would have been re-married long ago but for my protection. I have had a very disagreeable day and----"

"Then go to thy bed and put an end to it."

"My new dress is crushed and some way or other I have got a spot on the front breadth. Is it that Darwin book thou art looking for?"

"Yes."

"Would thou like to read a chapter to me?"

"No, I would not."

"Grandfather, I can understand it. I like clever men. Can thou introduce me to him--to Darwin?"

"He would not care to see thee. Clever men do not want clever wives; so if thou art thinking of a clever husband keep thy 'blue stockings' well under thy petticoats."

"And grandfather, do thou keep out of the way of the widows of Orkney or thou wilt find thyself inside of a marriage ring."

"Not while thou remains unmarried. Few women would care to look after thy welfare. I am used to it, long before thou had been short-coated, I had to walk thee to sleep in my arms."

"Yes," laughed Sunna, "I remember that. I felt myself safest with thee."

"Thou remembers nothing of the kind. At six months old, thou could neither compare nor remember."

"But thou art mistaken. I was born with perfect senses. Ere I was twenty-four hours old, I had selected thee as the most suitable person to walk me to sleep. I think that was a proof of my perfect intelligence. One thing more, and then I will let thee read. I am going to marry Boris Ragnor, and then the widow Brodie would--take charge of thee." She shut the door to these words and Adam heard her laughing all the way to her own room. Then he rubbed his hand slowly over and over his mouth and said to himself--"She shall have her say-so; Boris is the only man on the Islands who can manage her."

After the departure of the Vedders, Rahal and her sister Brodie went upstairs, taking Thora with them. She went cheerfully though a little reluctantly. She liked to hear Ian talk. She had thought of asking him to sing; but she was satisfied with the one straight, long look which flashed between them, as Ian bid her "good night"; for--


He looked at her as a lover can;
She looked at him as one who awakes,
The past was a sleep and her life began.


Then she went to her room, and thought of Ian until she fell asleep and dreamed of him.

For nearly two hours Ian remained with Conall Ragnor. The Railway Mania was then at its height in England, and the older man was delighted with Ian's daring stories of its mad excitement. Ian had seen and talked with Hudson, the draper's clerk, who had just purchased a fine ducal residence and estate from the results of his reckless speculations. Ian knew all the Scotch lines, he had even full faith in the _Caledonian_ when it was first proposed and could hardly win any attention. "Every one said a railway between England and Scotland would not pay, Mr. Ragnor," said Ian.

"I would have said very different," replied Conall. "It would be certain to pay. Why not?"

"Because there would be _no returns_," laughed Ian, and then Conall laughed also, and wished that Boris had been there to learn whatever Ian might teach him.

"Hast thou speculated in railway stock yet," he asked.

"No, sir. I have not had the money to do so."

"How would thou buy if thou had?"

"I would buy when no one else was buying, and when everyone else was buying, I would keep cool, and sell. A very old and clever speculator gave me that advice as a steady rule, saying it was 'his only guide.'"

This was the tenor of the men's conversation until near midnight, and then Ragnor went with Ian to the door of his room and bid him a frank and friendly good night. And as he stood a moment handfast with the youth, his conscience troubled him a little and he said: "Ian, Ian, thou art a wise lad about this world's business, but thou must not be forgetting that there is another world after this."

"I do not forget that, sir."

"Bishop Hedley is a greater and wiser man than all the railway nabobs thou hast spoken of."

"I think so, sir! I do indeed!" and the mutual smile and nod that followed required no further "good night."

It was a lovely, silent night. The very houses looked as if they were asleep; and there was not a sound either in the town on the brown pier or the moonlit sea. It was a night full of the tranquillity of God. Men and women looked into its peace, and carried its charm into their dreams. For most fine spirits that dwell by the sea have an elemental sympathy with strange oracles and dreams and old Night. In the morning, Conall Ragnor was the first to awaken. He went at once to fling open his window. Then he cried out in amazement and wonder, and awakened his wife:--

"Rahal! Rahal!" he shouted. "Come here! Come quick! Look at the town! It is hung with flags. The ships in the harbour--flying are their flags also! And there is a ship just entering the harbour and her colours are flying! And there are the guns! They are saluting her from the garrison! It must be a man-of-war! I wonder if the Queen is coming to see us at last! If thou art ready, call Thora and Barbara. Something is up! Thou may hear the town now, all tip-on-top with excitement!"

"Why did not thou call us sooner, Coll?"

"I slept late and long."

"But thou must have heard the town noises?"

"A confused noise passed through my ears, a noise full of hurry like a morning dream, that was all. Now, I am going for my swim and I will bring the news home with me."

But long before it was within expectation of Ragnor's return, the three women standing at the open door saw Ian coming rapidly to the house from the town. His walk was swift and full of excitement. His head was thrown upward, and he kept striking himself on the right side, just over the place where his ancestors had worn their dirks or broadswords. As soon as he saw the three women he flung his Glengarry skyward and shouted a ringing "Hurrah!"

As he approached them, all were struck with his remarkable beauty, his manly figure, his swift graceful movements and his handsome face suffused with the brightness of fiery youth. Through their long black lashes his eyes were shining and glowing and full of spirit, and indeed his whole personality was instinct with verve and fire. Anyone watching his approach would have said--"Here comes a youth made to lead a rattling charge of cavalry."

"Whatever is the matter with you, Ian?" cried Mistress Brodie. "You are surely gone daft."

"No indeed!" he answered. "I seem at this very hour to have just found myself and my senses."

"What