“We separate here,” said Jackman. “I need scarcely ask where you are going, or what going to do! Botany, coupled with inaccessible cliffs, seems to be your mania just now. Oh! John Barret, my friend, may I not with truth, in your case, paraphrase a well-known couplet,—
“Milly in the heart breeds Milly in the brain,
And this reciprocally that again?”
“Your paraphrases are about equal to your compositions, Jackman, and, in saying that, I don’t compliment you. Pray, may I ask why you have forsaken your favourite weapon, the gun, and taken to the rod to-day?”
“Because of amiability—pure and simple. You know I don’t care a rush for fishing, but, to my surprise, this morning MacRummle expressed a wish to try my repeating rifle at the rabbits, and offered to let me try his rod, and—I might almost add—his river. Wasn’t it generous of him? So I’m off to have a try for ‘that salmon,’ and he is off no one knows where, to send the terrified rabbits into their holes. Good-bye, old fellow—a pleasant day to you.”
Left alone, Barret began to devote himself to the cliffs. It was arduous work, for the said cliffs were almost perpendicular, and plants grew in such high-up crevices, and on such un-get-at-able places, that it seemed as if “rare specimens” knew their own value, as well as the great demand for them, and selected their habitations accordingly.
It was pleasant work, and our hero revelled in it! To be in such exceptional circumstances, with the grand cliffs above and below him, with no one near, save the lordly eagle himself, to watch his doings, with the wild sweeps of mountain-land everywhere, clothed with bracken, heather, and birch, and backed by the island-studded sea; with the fresh air and the bright sun, and brawling burns, and bleating sheep, and the objects of his favourite science around him, and the strong muscular frame and buoyant spirits that God had given to enable him to enjoy it all, was indeed enough to arouse a feeling of gratitude and enthusiasm; but when, in addition to this, the young man knew that he was not merely botanising on his own account, but working at it for Milly, he felt as though he had all but attained to the topmost pinnacle of felicity!
It is sad to think that in human affairs this condition is not unfrequently the precursor of misfortune. It is not necessarily so. Happily, it is not always so. Indeed, we would fain hope that it is not often so, but it was so on this occasion.
Barret had about half filled his botanical box with what he believed to be an interesting collection of plants that would cause the eyes of Milly Moss to sparkle, when the position of the sun and internal sensations induced him to think of his midday meal. It was tied up in a little square paper package. There was a spring at the bottom of the cliffs. It was near the stone where he had met Milly, and had given way to precipitancy. Not far from the spot also where he had made Milly up into a bundle, with a plaid, and started with her towards Kinlossie. No place could be better than that for his solitary luncheon. He would go there.
Descending the cliffs, he gained the road, and was walking along towards the selected spot, when the sound of wheels arrested him. Looking up, he saw the waggonette turn sharp round the projecting cliff, and approach him at a walk. He experienced a little depression of spirit, for there was no one in it, only the groom on the box. Milly would be sorely disappointed!
“Mrs Moss has not come, I see,” he said, as the groom reined up.