Bertha Eswick’s position in the family fully entitled her to sit at table with her mistress, and of course her daughter and son-in-law took their seats at their own table, but nothing could induce Nanny so to intrude herself, and she requested that she might be allowed to carry her plate to a large chest at one side of the room where she might eat her food by herself. Morton and Don Hernan could not help glancing a look at each other, as they observed the similarity of feature, but the tranquil, contented look which those of Bertha wore offered a strong contrast to the agitated unsettled expression of Hilda’s. Bertha and her mother did their utmost to tranquillise her mind, and by lively conversation to counteract the effect which the strange scene she had just gone through had produced. The beating of the rain and the roaring and howling of the wind were alone sufficient to baffle all their efforts. The storm continued with unabated fury, and gave every sign of being one of those which last for three or four days.
Hilda having expressed her annoyance at the surmises to which her absence would give rise in the castle, Rolf volunteered to go and inform the household that she had taken refuge in his house, and would return as soon as the weather permitted her to do so, while Don Hernan further commissioned him to proceed on along the shore of the Sound to ascertain that the “Saint Cecilia” was in safety, and whether his officers and men had escaped injury, and had returned on board.
“I ought to go myself, Mr Morton, I am well aware of that, but here is my excuse,” he observed, pointing to Hilda: “my officers are true Spaniards, and will receive it as a valid one.”
“An English officer would consider that his first duty was to look after his ship, whatever else might interfere, and there lies the difference between us,” muttered Morton, as facing the pelting rain and furious wind, he took his departure from his comfortable home.
Chapter Seven.
Don Hernan and Hilda at the Castle—The Spanish Officers on Shore—Don Hernan ordered to quit Shetland.
“To my mind it wad ha’ been better for one and a’ of us, if Miss Hilda had gone and wed with a true, honest-hearted Shetlander, instead of this new-found foreigner, for all his fine clothes, and fine airs, and silk purse; it’s few times I have seen the inside of it.” This was said by old Davie Cheyne to Nanny Clousta, about two weeks after Hilda and her husband had taken up their abode at the castle. “What Sir Marcus will say about the matter, it makes me tremble to think of. It’s my belief he’ll be inclined to pull the house down about our ears, or to send us and it flying up into the sky together. I wad ha’ thought she might ha’ found a young Mouat, or a Gifford, or a Bruce, or Nicolson. There are mony likely lads among them far better than this captain, now; I can no like him better than does Mr Lawrence, and that’s a sma’ portion indeed.”
“You’re too hard, Mr Cheyne, on our new master,” answered Nanny; “if ye had seen the gold piece he gave me the day we came back to the castle, and the beautiful silver one which he put into my hand only yesterday, with the two pillars on it, you wad no say a’ that against him. No, no, Mr Cheyne, he’s a fine gentleman, and a right fit husband for our young mistress.”