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as effectually, the destruction of much of the property exposed on the lawn. The men were therefore set to work with all their energies to replace in the unburnt part of the mansion all that they had so recently carried out of it.

In this work Ivor Donaldson found a sufficient outlet for the fierce unnatural energies which had been aroused within him. He went about heaving and hauling, and staggering under weights that in an ordinary state of body and mind he could scarcely have moved. Little notice was taken of him, however, for every one else was, if not doing the same thing, at least working up to the utmost extent of his ability.

Before midnight all was over. The fire was what the cook termed black out. The furniture, more than half destroyed, was re-housed. The danger of a revival of the flames was past, and the warriors in the great battle felt themselves free to put off their armour and seek refreshment.

This they didโ€”the males at leastโ€”in the gun-room, which, being farthest from the fire, and, therefore, left untouched, had not been damaged either by fire or water. Here the thoughtful laird had given orders to have a cold collation spread, and here, with his guests, men-servants, boys, and neighbouring farmers around him, he sat down to supper.

Chapter Seventeen. Conclusion.

โ€œWe are a queer lot, what-รซ-ver!โ€ remarked one of the farmers, with a deep sigh and a candid smile, as he looked round the company.

The observation was incontrovertible, if charcoaled faces, lank hair, torn and dripping garments, and a general appearance of drowned-ratiness may be regarded as โ€œqueer.โ€

โ€œMy friends,โ€ said the laird, digging the carving fork into a cold turkey, โ€œwe are also a hungry lot, if I may judge of others by myself, so let me advise you to fall to. We canโ€™t afford to sit long over our supper in present circumstances. Help yourselves, and make the most of your opportunities.โ€

โ€œThank God,โ€ said Giles Jackman, โ€œthat we have the opportunity to sit down to sup under a roof at all.โ€

โ€œAmen to that,โ€ returned the laird; โ€œand thanks to you all, my friends, for the help you have rendered. But for you, this house and all in it would have been burnt to ashes. I never before felt so strongly how true it is that we โ€˜know not what a day may bring forth.โ€™โ€

โ€œWhat you say, sir, is fery true,โ€ remarked a neighbouring small farmer, who had a sycophantish tendency to echo or approve whatever fell from the lairdโ€™s lips.

โ€œIt is indeed true,โ€ returned his host, wiping the charcoal from his face with a moist handkerchief; โ€œbut it is the Word that says it, not I. And is it not strange,โ€ he added, turning with a humorous look to Barret, โ€œthat after all these years the influence of Joan of Arc should be still so powerful in the Western Isles? To think that she should set my house on fire in this nineteenth century!โ€

โ€œI am very glad she did!โ€ suddenly exclaimed Junkie, who, having been pretty well ignored or forgotten by everybody, was plying his knife and fork among the other heroes of the fight in a state of inexpressible felicity.

โ€œYou rascal!โ€ exclaimed his father; โ€œyou should have been in bed long ago! But why are you so glad that Joan set the house on fire?โ€

โ€œBecause she gave me the chance to save Blackieโ€™s life!โ€ replied Junkie, with supreme contentment.

The company laughed, and continued their meal, but some of them recalled the proverb which states that โ€œthe boy is father to the man,โ€ and secretly prophesied a heroic career for Junkie.

Ten months passed away, during which period Allan Gordon retired to his residence in Argyllshire while his mansion in the Western Island was being restored. During the same period Archie produced innumerable hazy photographs of Kinlossie House in a state of conflagration; Eddie painted several good copies of the bad painting into which Milly Moss had introduced a megatherium cow and other specimens of violent perspective; and Junkie underwent a few terrible paroxysms of intense hatred of learning in all its aspects, in which paroxysms he was much consoled by the approval and sympathy of dear little Flo.

During this period, also, Mabberly applied himself to his duties in London, unaffected by the loss of the Fairy, and profoundly interested in the success of his friend Barret, who had devoted himself heart and head to natural history, with a view to making that science his profession, though his having been left a competence by his father rendered a profession unnecessary, from a financial point of view. As for Giles Jackman, that stalwart โ€œWoods-and-Foresterโ€ returned to his adopted land, accompanied by the faithful Quin, and busied himself in the activities of his adventurous career, while he sought to commend the religion of Jesus alike to native and European, both by precept and example, proving the great truth that โ€œgodliness is profitable unto all things, having promise of the life which now is, and of that which is to come.โ€ MacRummle, during the same period, spent much time in his study, writing for publication an elaborate treatise on fishing, with a few notes on shooting, in the Western Isles. He was encouraged in this work by a maiden sister who worshipped him, and by the presence of an enormous stuffed eagle in a corner of his study.

One day, towards the close of this period of ten months, a beautiful little woman and a handsome young man might have been seen riding in one of the quiet streets of London. They rode neither on horseback, nor in a carriage, still less in a cab! Their vehicle was a tricycle of the form which has obtained the name of โ€œSociable.โ€

โ€œSee, this is the corner, Milly,โ€ said the young man. โ€œI told you that one of the very first places I would take you to see after our marriage would be the spot where I had the good fortune to run our mother down. So now I have kept my word. There is the very spot, by the lamp-post, where the sweep stood looking at the thin little old lady so pathetically when I was forced to rise and run away.โ€

โ€œOh, John!โ€ exclaimed Milly, pointing with eager looks along the street; โ€œand there is the thin little old lady herself!โ€

โ€œSo it is! Well, coincidences will never cease,โ€ said Barret, as he stepped from the โ€œsociableโ€ and hurried to meet Mrs Moss, who shook her finger and head at him as she pointed to the pavement near the lamp-post.

โ€œI would read you a lecture now, sir,โ€ she said; โ€œbut will reserve it, for here is a letter that may interest you.โ€

It did indeed interest all three of them, as they sat together that afternoon in the sunshine of Millyโ€™s boudoir, for it was a long and well-written epistle from old Molly Donaldson.

We will not venture to weary the reader with all that the good old woman had to say, but it may perhaps be of interest to transcribe the concluding sentence. It ran thus,โ€”โ€œYou will be glad to hear that my dear Ivor is doing well. He was married in March to Aggy Anderson, anโ€™ they live in the old cottage beside me. Ivor has put on the blue ribbon. The laird has put it on too, to the surprise oโ€™ everybody. But I think little oโ€™ that. I think more oโ€™ a bit pasteboard that hangs over my sonโ€™s mantelpiece, on which he has written wiโ€™ his own hand the blessed wordsโ€”โ€˜Saved by Grace.โ€™โ€

The End.
| Chapter 1 | | Chapter 2 | | Chapter 3 | | Chapter 4 | | Chapter 5 | | Chapter 6 | | Chapter 7 | | Chapter 8 | | Chapter 9 | | Chapter 10 | | Chapter 11 | | Chapter 12 | | Chapter 13 | | Chapter 14 | | Chapter 15 | | Chapter 16 | | Chapter 17 | End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Eagle Cliff, by R.M. Ballantyne
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