An Orkney Maid, Amelia Edith Huddleston Barr [year 2 reading books .txt] 📗

in, and the walk in the garden followed, and at six there was an ample meal, and during the singing that followed it, Vedder fell fast asleep, as was his custom, and when he awoke Grant was just going and the clock was striking ten. Vedder looked at Sunna and there was no need for him to speak.

"It was 'The Banded Men,'" said Sunna with a straight look at her grandfather.

"Well, then, I know a woman who is a match for any number of 'banded men.'"

"And in all likelihood that woman will be a Vedder. Good night, Grandfather."


CHAPTER VII


THE CALL OF WAR

I came not to send peace but a sword.
--_Matt. x, 34._

For when I note how noble Nature's form
Under the war's red pain, I deem it true
That He who made the earthquake and the storm,
Perchance made battles too.

The summer passed rapidly away for it was full of new interests. Thora's wedding was to take place about Christmas or New Year, and there were no ready-made garments in those days; so all of her girl friends were eager to help her needle. Sunna spent half the day with her and all their small frets and jealousies were forgotten. Early in the morning the work was lifted, and all day long it went happily on, to their light-hearted hopes and dreams. Then in June and September Ian came to Kirkwall to settle his account with McLeod, and at the same time, he remained a week as the Ragnors' guest. There was also Sunna's intended visit to Edinburgh to talk about, and there was never a day in which the war and its preparations did not make itself prominent.

One of the pleasantest episodes of this period occurred early and related to Sunna. One morning she received a small box from London, and she was so amazed at the circumstance, that she kept examining the address and wondering "who could have sent it," instead of opening the box. However, when this necessity had been observed, it revealed to her a square leather case, almost like those used for jewelry, and her heart leaped high with expectation. It was something, however, that pleased her much more than jewelry; it was a likeness of Boris, a daguerreotype--the first that had ever reached Kirkwall. A narrow scrap of paper was within the clasp, on which Boris had written, "I am all thine! Forget me not!"

Sunna usually made a pretense of despising anything sentimental but this example filled her heart with joy and satisfaction. And after it, she took far greater pleasure in all the circumstances relating to Thora's marriage; for she had gained a personal interest in them. Even the details of the ceremony were now discussed and arranged in accord with Sunna's taste and suggestions.

"The altar and nave must be decorated with flags and evergreens and all the late flowers we can secure," she said.

"There will not be many flowers, I fear," answered Mistress Ragnor.

"The Grants have a large greenhouse. I shall ask them to save all they possibly can. Maximus Grant delights in doing a kindness."

"Then thou must ask him, Sunna. He is thy friend--perhaps thy lover. So the talk goes."

"Let them talk! My lover is far away. God save him!"

"Where then?"

"Where all good and fit men are gone--to the trenches. For my lover is much of a man, strong and brave-hearted. He adores his country, his home, and his kindred. He counts honour far above money; and liberty, more than life. My lover will earn the right to marry the girl he loves, and become the father of free men and women!" And Rahal answered proudly and tenderly:

"Thou art surely meaning my son Boris."

"Indeed, thou art near to the truth."

Then Rahal put her arm round Sunna and kissed her. "Thou hast made me happy," she said, and Sunna made her still more happy, when she took out of the little bag fastened to her belt the daguerreotype and showed her the strong, handsome face of her soldier-sailor boy.

During all this summer Sunna was busy and regular. She was at the Ragnors' every day until the noon hour. Then she ate dinner with her grandfather, who was as eager to discuss the news and gossip Sunna had heard, as any old woman in Kirkwall. He said: "Pooh! Pooh!" and "Nonsense!" but he listened to it, and it often served his purpose better than words of weight and wisdom.

In the afternoons Mistress Brodie was to visit, and the winter in Edinburgh to talk over. Coming home in time to take tea with her grandfather, she devoted the first hour after the meal to practising her best songs, and these lullabyed the old man to a sleep which often lasted until "The Banded Men" were attended to. It might then be ten o'clock and she was ready to sleep.

All through these long summer days, Thora was the natural source of interest and the inciting element of all the work and chatter that turned the Ragnor house upside down and inside out; but Thora was naturally shy and quiet, and Sunna naturally expressive and presuming; and it was difficult for their companions to keep Thora and Sunna in their proper places. Every one found it difficult. Only when Ian was present, did Sunna take her proper secondary place and Ian, though the most faithful and attentive of lovers by mail, had only been able to pay Thora one personal visit. This visit had occurred at the end of June and he was expected again at the end of September. The year was now approaching that time and the Ragnor household was in a state of happy expectation.

It was an unusual condition and Sunna said irritably: "They go on about this stranger as if he were the son of Jupiter--and poor Boris! They never mention him, though there has been a big battle and Boris may have been in it. If Boris were killed, it is easy to see that this Ian Macrae would step into his place!"

"Nothing of that kind could happen! In thy own heart keep such foolish thoughts," replied Vedder.

So the last days of September were restless and not very happy, for there was a great storm prevailing, and the winds roared and the rain fell in torrents and the sea looked as if it had gone mad. Before the storm there was a report of a big battle, but no details of it had reached them. For the Pentland Firth had been in its worst equinoctial temper and the proviso added to all Orkney sailing notices, "weather permitting," had been in full force for nearly a week.

But at length the storm was over and everyone was on the lookout for the delayed shipping. Thora was pale with intense excitement but all things were in beautiful readiness for the expected guest. And Ian did not disappoint the happy hopes which called him. He was on the first ship that arrived and it was Conall Ragnor's hand he clasped as his feet touched the dry land.

Such a home-coming as awaited him--the cheerful room, the bountifully spread table, the warm welcome, the beauty and love, mingling with that sense of peace and rest and warm affection which completely satisfies the heart. Would such a blissful hour ever come again to him in this life?

His pockets were full of newspapers, and they were all shouting over the glorious opening of the war. The battle of Alma had been fought and won; and the troops were ready and waiting for Inkerman. England's usual calm placidity had vanished in exultant rejoicing. "An English gentleman told me," said Ian, "that you could not escape the chimes of joyful bells in any part of the ringing island.'"

Vedder had just entered the room and he stood still to listen to these words. Then he said: "Men differ. For the first victory let all the bells of England ring if they want to. We Norsemen like to keep our bell-ringing until the fight is over and they can chime _Peace_. And how do you suppose, Ian Macrae, that the English and French will like to fight together?"

"Well enough, sir, no doubt. Why not?"

"Of Waterloo I was thinking. Have the French forgotten it? Ian, it is the very first time in all the history we have, that Frenchmen ever fought with Englishmen in a common cause. Natural enemies they have been for centuries, fighting each other with a very good will whenever they got a chance. Have they suddenly become friends? Have they forgot Waterloo?" and he shook his wise old head doubtfully.

"Who can tell, sir, but when the English conquer any nation, they feel kindly to them and usually give them many favours?"

"Well, then, every one knows that the same is both her pleasure and her folly; and dearly she pays for it."

"Ian," said Mistress Ragnor, "are the English ships now in the Black Sea? And if so, do you think Boris is with them?"

"About Boris, I do not know. He told me he was carrying 'material of war.' The gentleman of whom I spoke went down to Spithead to see them off. Her Majesty, in the royal yacht, _Fairy_, suddenly appeared. Then the flagship hauled home every rope by the silent 'all-at-once' action of one hundred men. Immediately the rigging of the ships was black with sailors, but there was not a sound heard except an occasional command--sharp, short and imperative--or the shrill order of the boatswain's whistle. The next moment, the Queen's yacht shot past the fleet and literally led it out to sea. Near the Nab, the royal yacht hove to and the whole fleet sailed past her, carried swiftly out by a fine westerly breeze. Her Majesty waved her handkerchief as they passed and it is said she wept. If she had not wept she would have been less than a woman and a queen."

While Vedder and Ragnor were discussing this incident, and comparing it with Cleopatra at the head of her fleet and Boadicea at the head of her British army and Queen Elizabeth at Tewksbury reviewing her army, Mrs. Ragnor and Thora left the room. Ian quickly followed. There was a bright fire in the parlour, and the piano was open. Ian naturally drifted there and then Thora's voice was wanted in the song. When it was finished, Mrs. Ragnor had been called out and they were alone. And though Mrs. Ragnor came back at intervals, they were practically alone during the rest of the evening.

What do lovers talk about when they are alone? Ah! their conversation is not to be written down. How unwritable it is! How wise it is! How foolish when written down! How supremely satisfying to the lovers themselves! Surely it is only the "baby-talk" of the wisdom not yet comprehensible to human hearts! We often say of certain events; "I have no words to describe what I felt"--and who will find out or invent the heavenly syllables that can adequately describe the divine passion of two souls, that suddenly find their real mate--find the soul that halves their soul, created for them, created with them, often lost or missed through diverse reincarnations; but sooner or later found again and known as soon as