Christine: A Fife Fisher Girl Part 19

So Christine dressed the timid little woman, and really made her look lovely, and at ten o'clock her Largo lover, called Willie Anderson, came there also. He had a couple of friends with him, and Ruleson himself took the place of Faith's father, and gave her his arm, as they all walked together, very doucely and religiously, to the Domine's house.

The Domine had been advised of the visit, and the large Bible lay open on the table. Standing before it the young couple received the Domine's charge, and then in the presence of their witnesses, pledged themselves to life-long love and devotion. The Domine entered the contract in his Kirk Book, and the witnesses signed it. Then the simple ceremony was over. The Domine blessed the bride, and she turned with a blushing, happy face to her husband.

"My ain! My wife!" he said, and gave her his arm, and Christine with her father and Anderson's two friends followed. All were very silent.

The bride and bridegroom were too happy to talk, and their friends understood and sympathized with the feeling.

The day was fine and clear, and the walk back to Ruleson's was still and sweet, and in spite of its silence, very pleasant; and they had no sooner opened Ruleson's door, than their senses were refreshed by the sight of the festal table, and the odor of delicious foods. For Margot had made a wedding dinner after her own heart. One of her precious turkeys had been sacrificed, and there was that wealth of pudding and cakes and pastry which no man loves and appreciates more than the fisherman. It was an excellent dinner, well cooked, and well enjoyed, and happily prolonged with pleasant conversation, until Christine reminded them they were probably keeping the crowd asked to the Fishers' Hall waiting.

In a pleasant haste they left all in James' care, and went in a body to the hall. There was quite a large company there, very well employed in practicing the steps of a new strathspey, and others in exhibiting their special bits of splendor. The whole room was flashing with Roman colors, and Judith Macpherson's Protestantism was angered by it. She said with her usual striking eloquence, that, in her opinion, they were nothing but emblems of popery. They came frae Rome. Why not? If we had elders in the kirk, worth the name o' elders, they wad ca' a session anent such a shamefu' exhibition o' the pope's vera signs and symbols. Indeed, she told Ruleson that she would stand up in the kirk on the next Sabbath day, if he, or someone, didna tak' the proper steps in the matter, and "I'll tell you, James Ruleson, I'm minded to go my ways to the manse right now, and bring the Domine himsel' here, to see the wicked testimonies."

Then the bridal dance began, and Ruleson drew Judith aside, and told her he would himself speak anent the colors, if she thought they were sinfu'.

"Sinfu'!" she screamed. "Why Ruleson, man, they come frae the pope, and thae men they ca' socialists. I hae heard tell o' the tricolor, and of a' the misery and sin that cam' frae it in France. Isna France i' the pope's dominions?"

"Oh no, Judith, they arena the same countries."

"James Ruleson, they may be different countries, but that tricolor sin is the same everywhere, even if it get into a G.o.dly place like Culraine. You must put a stop to our la.s.ses wearing the pope's colors, James Ruleson. That's a fact!"

James promised to do so. In reality he would have promised anything she asked, rather than have her go to the manse and disturb the Domine. He was only too grateful to observe that the wearers of the sinful colors were not disturbed by Judith's suspicions, and that the sailormen and fishermen were apparently most in love with the girls who wore the greatest quant.i.ty of the offensive emblems.

At three o'clock the dance was over, the greetings were all said and Willie Anderson anxious to carry off his bride on the tide top. "The waters are fu' at four o'clock," he said to Ruleson, "and I want to lift anchor and spread sails at the same moment. Then we'll hae wind and tide wi' us, and we'll win hame on the tide top. That would be a lucky thing, you ken, Ruleson."

"The ways o' a good man are a' lucky, Anderson, for they are ordered of the Lord, but a man must hae his way on his wedding day--maybe he'll ne'er get it again!"

So Ruleson said a few words to the chattering groups, and they instantly formed into line. The violins went first, then the bride and bridegroom. Then Ruleson and Margot, Christine and her brother Norman, and the rest as fancy led them in the selection of partners.

Willie Anderson's brand-new boat lay at the pier, and he had rigged up a little gangway trimmed with ivy between it and the sh.o.r.e. Every boat in harbor was flying its flag, except Anderson's boat--she was waiting for the bride, but as soon as the crowd had settled itself, Anderson went to the gangway, and a little lad waiting there for that purpose handed him a parcel. It contained the new flag for the new boat, and it was blue as the sea, and had three white words in its center, "Mine and Thine."

And while cheering filled the air, Willie wrapped it round his bride's slim form, and then lifting her in his strong arms, he leaped into the boat with her. In a few minutes the flag was flying at the masthead, the anchor lifted, and the _Mine and Thine_ began her home journeying.

And as they watched her, the tide turned, the sails filled, and she danced out of harbor, for the tide ran with her, and she was timed to reach home on the tide top.

CHAPTER VII

NEIL AND A LITTLE CHILD

Fearful commenting Is leaden servitor to dull delay.

How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is To have a thankless child.

Neil did not find it convenient on his return northward, to call again at the home in Culraine. His mother was disappointed, and fretted to Christine about the neglect. His father was silent, but James Ruleson's silence often said far more than words. When all hope of a call was over, Christine wrote to her brother, telling him in plain words what desire and hope and disappointment had filled the two days previous to the re-commencement of the Maraschal cla.s.ses.

Neil, dear lad, you must know that Mither was watching the road up the hill, for the past two or three days, and for the same time feyther didna go near the boats. He was watching the road likewise, for he didna want to miss you again. They were, both o'

them, sairly disappointed, when you neither came, nor sent word as to what was keeping you from sae evident a duty. Ye be to remember that Mither isna as well as she should be; and you must not neglect her now, Neil. You might ne'er be able to make it up to her in the future, if you do. I'm telling you, dear lad, for your ain heart's ease. Yesterday morning, she put on a clean cap and ap.r.o.n and sat down by the fireside to knit, and watch and listen.

By and by, the cat began to wash her face, and Mither was weel pleased wi' the circ.u.mstance, for she said it was a sure sign company was coming. So she went often to the door, and watched and listened, but no company came, till sun down, when the Domine called. Mither was so disappointed she couldna steady her voice, her eyes were full o' angry tears, and she drove poor old Sandy off the hearth, and into the cold, calling him a "lying prophet,"

and ither hard names, to which Sandy is not accustomed. Forbye, she hasna gi'en him a drop o' milk since. Do write Mither a long letter, full o' love and hope o' better days, and make some good excuses to her, for your neglect. Christine can make them out o'

her ain loving heart.

CHRISTINE.

Indeed, Christine in this letter did small justice to Margot's indignant disappointment, and now that hope was over, she made no pretense of hiding her wrong and her sorrow. The Domine saw as soon as he entered the cottage, that Margot was in great trouble, and he more than guessed the reason, for he had been called to the town very early in the day, to meet an old friend on his way to the Maraschal College, where he filled a Professor's Chair in the medical department. Pa.s.sing with this friend down the High Street, he had seen Neil with Roberta Rath on his arm, examining leisurely the attractive shop windows, while Reginald trailed at speaking distance behind them.

He kept still further behind. He had no desire to interfere. Neil had never sought his confidence, and he did not know--except through Christine's partial remarks--what the young man's private hopes and plans might be. So he listened to Margot's pa.s.sionate complaints a little coldly, and she was quick to perceive it.

"You canna understand, Domine, what I suffer. Ye hae never had an ungratefu' bairn. And I'm feeling for his feyther too--the dear auld man, he'll be clean heart-broken!"

"No, no, Margot! A good heart that trusts in G.o.d, never breaks. It has no cause to break."

"It is eleven years, Domine, we hae all o' us been keepin' oursel's poor, for Neil's sake."

"The last eleven years, Margot, you have missed no good thing. G.o.d has been good to you, and to yours. I have seen! I have not forgotten!"

"Just a few kind words would hae paid for a' we hae pinched and wanted."

"There has been neither pinch nor want in your home, Margot."

"Ye don't ken a' things, Sir. My man has worked harder than he ought to hae worked."

"I think you may be mistaken, Margot. James Ruleson trusts in G.o.d. Why should he overwork himself?"

"To keep the roof o'er our heads, and find food for the bairns."

"Nay, nay, Margot! Prayer, and lawful work, keep the door safe, and the table spread."

"Oh Domine! If you feel that your love is slighted--that the bairn you love mair than yoursel' lightlies ye; if you feel that he's 'shamed o'

you!" And Margot covered her face, and her words were lost in heart-breaking sobs.

"Margot, you must cease weeping. Will it do you any good to kill yourself? What will you say to your Maker in such case?"

"I willna be feared to say all that is in my heart to Him. He knows a mither's heart, and the griefs it tholes and carries. I canna expect you to know how love feels when it is scorned, and made little o'."

"I know something of that same sorrow, Margot. I gave the love of my life to one who scorned it. Only G.o.d knew my sorrow, but He was sufficient for my comfort. There is only one way of conquering wrongs against love, Margot."

Margot did not speak, and after a moment's pause, he asked, "Do you want to know that way?"

"No, Sir. If it is your way, I'm no able to follow it."

"Suppose you try. You think your youngest son has treated you badly?"

"Ay, I'm sure o' it, and he's treated his feyther and his brothers badly, and his one sister worse than a'. How can folk forget injuries that tread love under feet? They canna do it."

"They can. Do you want to know how? Do you want to know how I did it?"

"I couldna walk in your shoon, Sir. They're o'er big for me."