TROUBLESOME DAUGHTERS. PART I CHAPTER L A WINDY NIGHT. "But when that the cloud lays its cheek to the flood, O, merry he sits 'mang his jovial crew, And he sings aloud to his boys in blue, -AINSLIB. THE wind was blowing in from the sea, and the waves were thundering along the rugged coast of Galloway, one wild and dusky evening towards the latter end of September. In vain did the flickering sunset struggle for a corner of the heavens- it was speedily overcast; and invisible then was the long line of white-capped breakers, whose steady beat upon the land could be heard far and near, ere they surged over the rocks, rolling in their treasures of weed, and grass, and broken shells before them. Far as the eye could reach, it was a bleak and lonely region over which, unchecked, the sea-breeze made its way. The moorlands were wastes of bog and moss, surmounted by the red waving grass peculiar to the district; the woods were mere clumps of trees roughly huddled together, and A these being perpetually bent before the prevailing blast, presented, from their stunted growth and misshapen boughs, an air of sorrowful endurance, which was heightened almost to the pitch of pathos when winter displayed their bare and interlaced branches. Solitary stragglers, with the same woe-worn aspect, dotted the fields, affording, in their battered and beaten-down condition, a series of roofs for the black cattle of the country, who in bad weather cowered underneath. Between the villages, which lay at a considerable distance from each other, there were but few dwelling-houses, and only at long intervals were tracts of land separated from one another by walls of loosely-piled stones. These last were viewed, on the evening in question, with especial ill-will by a sportsman who, at the close of a successful day's fishing, was making his way down from the moor, and who, encumbered as he was with his rod, his creel, and various good trout of creditable size and weight, found getting over the tottering obstacles no easy matter. Supporting himself, however, by an occasional interjection, and by the consideration that if he could once gain the highroad he should proceed much more rapidly, he bade defiance to the roughness of the way and the buffeting of the elements, and stepped forward with as good a heart as could be expected from a wet and weary man, who sees a neighbourhood with which he is at best but imperfectly acquainted, rapidly becoming obscured in the twilight. Captain Rupert Evelyn-for such was the stranger's name -had been from an early hour stumbling about among moss-hags, peat-marshes, and stony beds of mountain-torrents which only burst forth during the floods of winter; and had he allowed himself to own the truth, he must have confessed that nothing would now have gladdened his eyes more than the view, within a reasonable distance, of Castle Kenrick, the friend's house at which he was then staying. Having, however, declined the attendance of a guide or keeper, asserting roundly that he had never lost his way in his life, and that, moreover, he knew every inch of the road down from the country above to the little port near which the hospitable mansion stood, towards which his steps were to be at eventide directed, he felt that he had no right to grumble, and that he ought to suffer, without even an inward protest, such protracted inconvenience as arose from his taking a round instead of the direct path, which a native of the district would probably have pointed out. Nor did he disobey the monitor's voice; the more gloomy and peevish grew the sky, and the more penetrating the blast, the more doggedly and silently he faced it: but unconsciously his steps slackened, and his eyes wistfully searched the landscape at every opportunity. "If I had not to face the wind," he considered, "I could get along well enough; but, however, I knew in the morning I should have to fight my way back." The reminiscence might be consoling, but the battle became increasingly hard to sustain; nor was our wayfarer in any way reassured by hopes of its having a speedy termination. Heights were climbed, points were rounded, and level pieces of land were steadily left behind; but although on each occasion he promised himself a joyful surprise behind the ever-renewed veil in front, he was doomed only to repeated and vexatious disappointment. At length a sharper turn of the road than usual, on a promontory only a short distance off, gave the required fillip to his spirits, which enabled him to brace himself stoutly to the ascent; and though serious misgivings had now taken the place of his first lurking qualms of uneasiness, he gained the summit at a brisk pace. Alas for human incredulity! The gathering dusk hid, it is true, much of the prospect now opened up,-and well was it for our unlucky pedestrian that it did, since, had the light been good, he must have viewed the road he was traversing still wending its endless way on ahead, a broad white mark on the hillside,—but although such a vision was mercifully withheld, enough still remained to confound and subdue. Headlands upon which the sea was raging, bleak and desolate reaches of moor above, thickets black under the murky sky, alone met his bewildered gaze. He stopped short, sat down, and pulled a long, grave, miserable face. Now was the time for soliloquy. An experienced soliloquist might have made anything he chose out of such a situation: there was an opportunity, such as rarely is given, for plaint composed of retrospection, apprehension, distraction, and a dozen other such mental sensations, whereof we, the chroniclers, might have had the benefit-and it would have saved us some trouble in the way of explanation if we had, but this fool of an Evelyn never opened his lips. He was in a mess, and he saw no way out of it. The storm was increasing momentarily; and no habitation, neither cottage nor castle, was visible anywhere. Fate, however, taking pity on the baffled wretch, who was obviously punished to the full extent of his demerits, presently sent his way a deliverer, in the shape of a stout country wife, who had been following in his wake for some distance, and who caught him up at this point. From her he could at least ascertain the extent of his misfortunes. Can you Hey!" said Evelyn, briskly. "Look here. tell me how far it is to Castle Kenrick?" The woman stopped to listen. "Well?" continued her interrogator. "Eh? Did you not hear me? Bother this wind! Castle Kenrick?" in a louder key. "Castle Kenrick? How far?" "Warslin' wi' the wund, sir, I canna hear ye." "Castle Kenrick?" bawled Evelyn, at the pitch of his voice. "CASTLE KENRICK? How far is it from here?" "Couldna say, sir. I hear ye noo. Couldna say, I'm sure. It's a wundy nicht." "Windy-humph! Can't you give a guess, at least? A mile, or two miles, or more?" "A mile or twa, or mair? Aweel,—maybe mair." "Is it not down in the bay there?" "Doun in the bay yonder? Doun yonder? Castle Kenrick?" "Where is it, in heaven's name?" cried Evelyn, losing patience at last. "Confound the place!" "Ahint ye, sir,-ahint ye. Oo, ye hae cam the wrang road, I'm thinkin'. Castle Kenrick is ower by," pointing backwards with her finger. "An I had kenned ye sought Castle Kenrick, I wad hae cried on ye lang syne-though maybe," she added, on reflection, "ye michtna hae heard muckle o' me." "Probably not." 'Aweel, but ye mun just turn ye roond, and haud your way straight back the road ye cam "I'll do nothing of the sort." "An' gang ower the bridge"I tell you I won't." |