Then followed a voluble explanation in Gaelic from the whole group, interspersed with a few words in English, from which Hardy learned that one of the laird’s younger brothers, in climbing along the crags by the side of a waterfall, had trusted his weight to a slight tree which gave way with him, precipitating him into the rocky bed of the foaming torrent. The doctor was now examining the injuries he had received. While the women were speaking, a young man appeared at the door and said a few words to them in a kind but determined tone, which had the effect of instantly silencing and dispersing them; and he then perceived Hardy.
“Hardy, is this your promised visit? Alone, and at this unfortunate moment? Not that you are the less welcome,” he added, shaking him warmly by the hand, and leading him into the house.
The gleam of reason which had dictated Donald’s suggestion vanished as soon as Hardy followed it, and he began indulging in crazy merriment at having produced the excitement and alarm so visible in the faces of the three remaining strangers. Though Bayntun would not have confessed it, his imagination was strangely excited, and his nerves shaken, when Hardy and the young laird came together from the house.
“I am sorry to say that Donald’s conjecture was but too correct,” said Arthur; after introducing his friend; “and I have succeeded in convincing Glennaclach, much against his hospitable inclination, that he would distress us all by receiving us under such circumstances.” He then briefly explained what had happened, and his own proposition that they should proceed to Glen Bogie.
“Since you will positively not remain with me, it is some satisfaction to know that at Glen Bogie, notwithstanding the ill-omened connection it has with my house, you will meet with a more hospitable reception, if you do not fear it for its reputation of being haunted,” said the young man. “My boats are at your service to take you there; and I am vexed at not having the pleasure of myself introducing you to the scenery of the Glen; but in my mother’s present anxiety respecting my brother, I cannot leave her even for a few hours. His hurts are not dangerous, however, and I hope to-morrow to be able to bring you all back to my house.”
As he spoke, he carefully assisted the ladies to alight from the cart, returning Donald’s reverential salutation kindly, and desiring him to convey what Donald called the thravelling bags down to the boat. Helen thought of Fergus McIvor, of course, though nothing could be more dissimilar from the hero of Waverley than the frank, simple-mannered young Highlander, who, with kind quiet courtesy, was handing Mrs Hardy down the sloping lawn. Two men were ready in the boat, which was carefully spread with plaids, and Mr Stewart, or Glennaclach, as he was called in a district where the name Stewart is so frequent that it is absolutely necessary to distinguish the proprietors by the names of their estates, having given his orders to the men in their native language, and placed his intended guests comfortably, gave the boat a shove off from the shore, and lifted his bonnet as a parting salute.
“Now you have seen a real live Highland laird, Helen,” said Mrs Hardy, smiling.
As the men plied their square-handled oars, the young laird called out something to them in Gaelic, which made them look shy and shake their heads.
“I want them to sing to you,” said he in English; and after some hesitation, one of them struck up a wild song, which, in spite of the nasal sound he gave it, was full of beauty. So they glided over the still waters of the loch, which was—
“All of the dazzling sheen,
Like magic mirror, where slumbering lay
The sun and the sky and the cloudlet grey;
Which heaved and trembled and gently swung;
On every shore they seemed to be hung;
For there they were seen on their downward plain
A thousand times and a thousand again;
In winding lake and placid firth,
Little peaceful heavens in the bosom of earth.”