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

of this fact.

"Dost thou indeed believe thy aunt's assurances?" asked Rahal. "Hast thou not seen her break them year after year? She will either ask some Edinburgh friend to come back to Kirkwall with her, or she will pick up someone on the way home. Is it not so?"

"Aunt generally leaves Edinburgh alone. It is the people she picks up on her way home that are so uncertain. Dear Mother, can I go now to the cathedral? The flowers are calling me."

"Are there many flowers this year?"

"More than we expected. The Balfour greenhouse has been stripped and they have such a lovely company of violets and primroses and white hyacinths with plenty of green moss and ivy. The Baikies have a hothouse and have such roses and plumes of curled parsley to put behind them, and lilies-of-the-valley; and I have robbed thy greenhouse, Mother, and taken all thy fairest auriculas and cyclamens."

"They are for God's altar. All I have is His. Take what vases thou wants, but Helga must carry them for thee."

"And, Mother, can I have the beautiful white Wedgewood basket for the altar? It looked so exquisite last Easter."

"It now belongs to the altar. I gave it freely last Easter. I promised then that it should never hold flowers again for any meaner festival. Take whatever thou wants for thy purpose, and delay me no longer. I have this day to put two days' work into one day." Then she lifted her eyes from the pastry she was making and looking at Thora, asked: "Art thou not too lightly clothed?"

"I have warm underclothing on. Thou would not like me to dress God's altar in anything but pure white linen? All that I wear has been made spotless for this day's work."

"That is right, but now thou must make some haste. There is no certainty about Aunt Barbie. She may be at her home this very minute."

"The boat is not due until ten o'clock."

"Not unless Barbara Brodie wanted to land at seven. Then, if she wished, winds and waves would have her here at seven. Her wishes follow her like a shadow. Go thy way now. Thou art troubling me. I believe I have put too much sugar in the custard."

"But that would be a thing incredible." Then Thora took a hasty kiss, and went her way. A large scarlet cloak covered her white linen dress, and its hood was drawn partially over her head. In her hands she carried the precious Wedgewood basket, and Helga and her daughter had charge of the flowers and of several glass vases for their reception. In an hour all Thora required had been brought safely to the vestry of Saint Magnus, and then she found herself quite alone in this grand, dim, silent House of God.

In the meantime Aunt Barbara Brodie had done exactly as Rahal Ragnor anticipated. The boat had made the journey in an abnormally short time. A full sea, and strong, favourable winds, had carried her through the stormiest Firth in Scotland, at a racer's speed; and she was at her dock, and had delivered all her passengers when Conall Ragnor arrived at his warehouse. Then he had sent word to Rahal, and consequently she ventured on the prediction that "Aunt Barbara might already be at her home."

However, it had not been told the Mistress of Ragnor, that her sister-in-law had actually "picked up someone on the way"; and that for this reason she had gone directly to her own residence. For on this occasion, her hospitality had been stimulated by a remarkably handsome young man, who had proved to be the son of Dr. John Macrae, a somewhat celebrated preacher of the most extreme Calvinist type. She heartily disapproved of the minister, but she instantly acknowledged the charm of his son; but without her brother's permission she thought it best not to hazard his influence over the inexperienced Thora.

"I am fifty-two years old," she thought, "and I know the measure of a man's deceitfulness, so I can take care of myself, but Thora is a childlike lassie. It would not be fair to put her in danger without word or warning. The lad has a wonderful winning way with women."

So she took her fascinating guest to her own residence, and when he had been refreshed by a good breakfast, he frankly said to her:

"I came here on special business. I have a large sum of money to deliver, and I think I will attend to that matter at once."

"I will not hinder thee," said Mrs. Brodie, "I'm no way troubled to take care of my own money, but it is just an aggravation to take care of other folks' siller. And who may thou be going to give a 'large sum of money' to, in Kirkwall town? I wouldn't wonder if the party isn't my own brother, Captain Conall Ragnor?"

"No, Mistress," the young man replied. "It belongs to a young gentleman called McLeod."

"Humph! A trading man is whiles very little of a gentleman. What do you think of McLeod?"

"I am the manager of his Edinburgh business, so I cannot discuss his personality."

"That's right, laddie! Folks seldom see any good thing in their employer; and it is quite fair for them to be just as blind to any bad thing in him--but I'll tell you frankly that your employer has not a first rate reputation here."

"All right, Mistress Brodie! His reputation is not in my charge--only his money. I do not think the quality of his reputation can hurt mine."

"Your father's reputation will stand bail for yours. Well now, run away and get business off your mind, and be back here for one o'clock dinner. I will not wait a minute after the clock chaps one. This afternoon I am going to my brother's house, and I sent him a message which asks for permission to bring you with me."

"Thanks!" but he said the word in an unthankful tone, and then he looked into Mistress Brodie's face, and she laughed and imitated his expression, as she assured him "she had no girl with matrimonial intentions in view."

"You see, Mistress," he said, "I do not intend to remain longer than a week. Why should I run into danger? I am ready to take heartaches. Can you tell me how best to find McLeod's warehouse?"

"Speir at any man you meet, and any man will show you the place. I, myself, am not carin' to send folk an ill road."

So Ian Macrae went into the town and easily found his friend and employer. Then their business was easily settled and it appeared to be every way gratifying to both men.

"You have taken a business I hate off my hands, Ian," said McLeod, "and I am grateful to you. Where shall we go today? What would you like to do with yourself?"

"Why, Kenneth, I would like first of all to see the inside of your grand cathedral. I would say, it must be very ancient."

"Began in A. D., 1138. Is that old?"

"Seven hundred years! That will do for age. They were good builders then. I have a strange love for these old shrines where multitudes have prayed for centuries. They are full of _Presence_ to me."

"_Presence._ What do you mean?"

"Souls."

"You are a creepy kind of mortal. I think, Ian, if you were not such a godless man, you might have been a saint."

Macrae drew his lips tight, and then said in detached words--"My father is--sure--I--was--born--at--the--other--end--of--the--measure."

Then they were in the interior of the cathedral. The light was dim, the silence intense, and both men were profoundly affected by influences unknown and unseen. As they moved slowly forward into the nave, the altar became visible, and in this sacred place of Communion Thora was moving slowly about, leaving beauty and sweetness wherever she lingered.

Her appearance gave both men a shock and both expressed it by a spasmodic breath. They spoke not; they watched her slim, white figure pass to-and-fro with soft and reverent steps, arranging violets and white hyacinths with green moss in the exquisite white Wedgewood. Then with a face full of innocent joy she placed it upon the altar, and for a few moments stood with clasped hands, looking at it.

As she did so, the organist began to practice his Easter music, and she turned her face towards the organ. Then they saw fully a beautiful, almost childlike face transfigured with celestial emotions.

"Let us get out of this," whispered McLeod. "What business have we here? It is a kind of sacrilege." And Ian bowed his head and followed him. But it was some minutes ere the every-day world became present to their senses. McLeod was the first to speak:--

"What an experience!" he sighed. "I should not dare to try it often. It would send me into a monastery."

"Are you a Roman Catholic?"

"What else would I be? When I was a lad, I used to dream of being a monk. It was power I wanted. I thought then, that priests had more power than any other men; as I grew older I found out that it was money that owned the earth."

"Not so!" said Ian sharply, "'the earth is the Lord's, and the fulness thereof.' I promised to be at Mistress Brodie's for dinner at one o'clock. What is the time?"

McLeod took out his watch:--"You have twenty minutes," he said. "I was just going to tell you that the girl we saw in the cathedral is her niece."

Ian had taken a step or two in the direction of the Brodie house, but he turned his head, and with a bright smile said, "Thank you, Ken!" and McLeod watched him a moment and then with a sigh softly ejaculated: "What a courteous chap he is--when he is in the mood to be courteous--and what a ---- when he is not in the mood."

Ian was at the Brodie house five minutes before one, and he found Mistress Brodie waiting for him. "I am glad that you have kept your tryst," she said. "We will just have a modest bite now, and we can make up all that is wanting here, at my brother Coll's, a little later. I have a pleasant invite for yourself. My good sister-in-law has read some of your father's sermons in the Sunday papers and magazines, and for their sake she will be glad to see you. I just promised for you."

"Thank you, I shall be glad to go with you," and it was difficult for him to disguise how more than glad he was to have this opportunity.

"So then, you will put on the best you have with you--the best is none too good to meet Thora in."

"Thora?"

"Thora Ragnor, my own niece. She is the bonniest and the best girl in Scotland, if you will take me as a judge of girls. 'Good beyond the lave of girls,' and so Bishop Hadley asked her special to dress the altar for Easter. He knew there would be no laughing and daffing about the work, if Thora Ragnor had the doing of it."

"Is there any reason to refrain from laughing and daffing while at that work?"

"At God's altar there should be nothing but prayer and praise. You know what girls talk and laugh about. If they have not some poor lad to bring to worship, or to scorn, they have no heart to help their hands; and