Inchbracken: The Story of a Fama Clamosa

by Robert Cleland

'We all' Roderick understood to be the old gentleman's way of including Sophia with himself, and he was greatly cheered. He kept up a constant correspondence with the Laird himself, and took care that Mary's letterwriting to Sophia should never flag, so that he felt by no means cut off from her. He might have adventured a letter to her himself now, with far greater hope than he had felt on a previous occasion, but he had begun to doubt and wonder as to his own future plans in life, and he misgave as to his moral right to commit another to the hazy uncertainties he begun to see before him. His utter outrooting from Glen Effick was not a process which could take place without leaving changes and permanent effects on his whole nature. It was no mere transplanting-process, in which the fibres retain some clod of the old for stay and nourishment until they are able to spread themselves and take hold on the new soil. His clerical brethren had treated him as a diseased and withered branch, a weed to be plucked up by the root and cast out of the vineyard; and finding himself thus out for the moment, he was minded to look well about him before he returned.

In England he came for the first time in contact with a national church differing from his own, and to which the traditions and prejudices of his early training were opposed. The written prayers, rubrical directions, and instrumental music, were all opposed to his experience and prepossessions, so much that, in a sense, and apart from controversial considerations, Prelacy and Popery had appeared as nearly convertible terms. But as the novelty wore off there was much in them conducive to devout feeling, and he could not close his eyes to the signal and thousandfold examples of holy living which flourished under the system. The extension of railways has assisted to bring similar suggestions to many of his fellow countrymen. Roderick began to realize what, perhaps, he would only have admitted in a speculative but doubtful way before, that there are more folds than one; or, to speak more orthodoxly, that the limits of the one fold are not conterminous with those of one special pen in which some portion of the faithful flock have chosen to house themselves. He began to read more foreign theology than had been his wont, and with less of his old feeling that he knew more and better than any dweller in lands of a dimmer Gospel light could possibly tell him.

Mary, of course, was not long in hearing from Kenneth that baby Steele had been reclaimed by its new found family, and the delighted father wrote her a letter overflowing with gratitude. He told her that he had persuaded Eppie, who understood her constitution so wonderfully, to remain in charge of his little Mary, and assured her that she should be brought up to remember for life the debt of gratitude she owed to her name-mother's charity. Mary cried a little to think that she had lost her winsome plaything, but admitted it was perhaps just as well. Lady Caroline might not have relished an infant in the house, not of her kindred, and belonging to none knew whom.

In March came the county Courier, describing the marriage in high life at Inchbracken, 'Augustus Wallowby, Esquire, to the beautiful and accomplished,' etc., with all the great doings and high festival kept on the occasion. This was especially welcome news to Mary. She had known of it from the beginning, but she had feared something might happen to delay or break it off; the attachment seemed so unreal, to judge from Kenneth's cynical observations made on the spot. Her acquaintance with Julia had been slight, and she felt as if they did not like each other, though she could not have said why. Julia had always been quite civil, but Mary knew this, that she did not understand her (Julia) in the very least, Inchbracken was going to become her own home in the coming autumn, and she had feared that the presence of Julia would not be conducive to her happy relations with her mother-in-law. But that was settled, and Mary received an occasional billet from Lady Caroline, who felt lonely and dull now that she was deprived of Julia's companionship, and whose thoughts naturally turned to the coming daughter-in-law.

Roderick and Mary broke up their winter quarters soon after hearing of Julia's marriage. They had no occasion to move northward before May or June, but having as yet seen little of England, they determined to move along the south coast by easy stages, stopping at famous towns on their way, and seeing all that they could--Exeter, Dorchester, Winchester, Portsmouth, the Isle of Wight, Canterbury, and finally Dover. They were sorely tempted to cross the straits, but it was now May, and if they were to see London, it was time for them to hurry thither, for they were due in Edinburgh at the end of the month.

They strolled down the pier to watch the steamer come in, and had the consolation of seeing by the forlorn aspect of the landing passengers, that their inability to cross was not an unmixed evil. The wind blew from the east, and the confused chopping waves betokened a detestable passage, and the seagreen visages of the people, as they followed their baggage into the customhouse sheds, showed plainly what they had suffered. In time there issued from the sheds a party, the chief members of which struck them as familiar, though they could not recall when they had seen them. A lady, whose long ringlets had somewhat lost their curl in the damp sea air, but who did not appear to be otherwise discomposed, walked first; a courier came next carrying her reticule, her Murray, and her smelling bottle; a gentleman followed, dismal of countenance and rumpled in attire. Manifestly he had not been happy during the voyage, and he appeared to have lain down or leant up in undesirable places. It appeared an exertion to him to drag himself to the neighbouring 'Lord Warden,' whither their steps were bent, and yet he had other burdens to carry. On one arm hung a voluminous fur cloak,--evidently a lady's,--and he had also a parasol. Clutched to his side under the other arm was a French poodle, caught below the shoulders, with its after-part dangling helpless like a hairy caterpillar about his legs. It appeared to be in much discomfort, blinked piteously, and would have yelped and bitten also, but that the breath was squeezed out of its body by the elbow which kept it in place. A maid followed with a vast bundle of shawls, and then came a man with a folding stool, who lingered to watch the baggage being conveyed to the hotel.

'Adolphe!' said the lady to the courier, 'go and bid Mr. Wallowby take better care of that poor Fidele. I know he is handling the tender darling roughly! Men are so coarse and indifferent. I am sure I heard a whimper!'

The delivery of Adolphe's message was followed by a shrill yelp, cut short in the middle by want of breath, as its aggravated bearer bent in a few more of its ribs with a jerk of his elbow, and wished it in the sea. The lady stopped in her saunter and turned round.

'Augustus!' she said in a severe and injured tone, 'Had you not better wait till you get indoors, before giving way to your disgusting brutality of temper? The servants cannot possibly admire the exhibition.'

At this moment she descried the Browns, and her face cleared as she approached them with cordial alacrity.