Christine: A Fife Fisher Girl Part 6

How it came that Ballister and Christine took the lead, and that Neil was in a manner left out, Neil could not tell; but it struck him as very remarkable. He saw Christine and his friend walking together, and he was walking behind them. Christine, also, was perfectly unembarra.s.sed, and apparently as much at home with Ballister as if he had been some fisher-lad from the village.

Yet there was nothing strange in her easy manner and affable intimacy.

It was absolutely natural. She had never realized the conditions of riches and poverty, as entailing a difference in courtesy or good comrades.h.i.+p; for in the village of Culraine, there was no question of an equality founded on money. A man or woman was rated by moral, and perhaps a little by physical qualities--piety, honesty, courage, industry, and strength, and knowledge of the sea and of the fisherman's craft. Christine would have treated the great Duke of Fife, or Her Majesty, Victoria, with exactly the same pleasant familiarity.

She showed Ballister her mother's flower garden, that was something beyond the usual, and she was delighted at Ballister's honest admiration and praise of the lovely, rose-sweet plot. Both seemed to have forgotten Neil's presence, and Neil was silent, blundering about in his mind, looking for some subject which would give him predominance.

Happily strolling in and out the narrow walks, and eating ripe gooseberries from the bushes, they came to a little half-circle of laburnum trees, drooping with the profusion of their golden blossoms.

There was a wooden bench under them, and as Christine sat down a few petals fell into her lap.

"See!" she cried, "the trees are glad o' our company," and she laid the petals in her palm, and added--"now we hae shaken hands."

"What nonsense you are talking, Christine," said Neil.

"Weel then, Professor, gie us a bit o' gude sense. Folks must talk in some fas.h.i.+on."

And Neil could think of nothing but a skit against women, and in apologetic mood and manner answered:

"I believe it is allowable, to talk foolishness, in reply to women's foolishness."

"O Neil, that is cheap! Women hae as much gude sense as men hae, and whiles they better them"--and then she sang, freely and clearly as a bird, two lines of Robert Burns' opinion--

"He tried His prentice hand on man, And then He made the la.s.ses O!"

She still held the golden blossoms in her hand, and Ballister said:

"Give them to me. Do!"

"You are vera welcome to them, Sir. I dinna wonder you fancy them.

Laburnum trees are money-bringers, but they arena lucky for lovers. If I hed a sweetheart, I wouldna sit under a laburnum tree wi' him, but Feyther is sure o' his sweetheart, and he likes to come here, and smoke his pipe. And Mither and I like the place for our bit secret cracks. We dinna heed if the trees do hear us. They may tell the birds, and the birds may tell ither birds, but what o' that? There's few mortals wise enough to understand birds. Now, Neil, come awa wi'

your gude sense, I'll trouble you nae langer wi' my foolishness. And good day to you, Sir!" she said. "I'm real glad you are my brother's friend. I dinna think he will go out o' the way far, if you are wi'

him."

Ballister entreated her to remain, but with a smile she vanished among the thick shrubbery. Ballister was disappointed, and somehow Neil was not equal to the occasion. It was hard to find a subject Ballister felt any interest in, and after a short interval he bade Neil good-bye and said he would see him on the following day.

"No, on the day after tomorrow," corrected Neil. "That was the time fixed, Angus. Tomorrow I will finish up my work for the university, and I will be at your service, very happily and gratefully, on Friday morning." Then Neil led him down the garden path to the sandy sh.o.r.e, so he did not return to the cottage, but went away hungry for another sight of Christine.

Neil was pleased, and displeased. He felt that it would have been better for him if Christine had not interfered, but there was the delayed writing to be finished, and he hurried up the steep pathway to the cottage. Some straying vines caught his careless footsteps, and threw him down, and though he was not hurt, the circ.u.mstance annoyed him. As soon as he entered the cottage, he was met by Christine, and her first remark added to his discomfort:

"Whate'er hae you been doing to yoursel', Neil Ruleson? Your coat is torn, and your face scratched. Surely you werna fighting wi' your friend."

"You know better, Christine. I was thrown by those nasty blackberry vines. I intend to cut them all down. They catch everyone that pa.s.ses them, and they are in everyone's way. They ought to be cleared out, and I will attend to them tomorrow morning, if I have to get up at four o'clock to do it."

"You willna touch the vines. Feyther likes their fruit, and Mither is planning to preserve part o' it. And I, mysel', am vera fond o' vines.

The wee wrens, and the robin redb.r.e.a.s.t.s, look to the vines for food and shelter, and you'll not dare to hurt their feelings, for

"The Robin, wi' the red breast, The Robin, and the wren, If you do them any wrong, You'll never thrive again."

"Stop, Christine, I have a great deal to think of, and to ask your help in."

"Weel, Neil, I was ready for you at three o'clock, and then you werna ready for me."

"Tell me why you dressed yourself up so much? Did you know Ballister was coming?"

"Not I! Did you think I dressed mysel' up for Angus Ballister?"

"I was wondering. It is very seldom you wear your gold necklace, and other things, for just home folk."

"Weel, I wasn't wearing them for just hame folk. Jennie Tweedie is to be married tonight, and Mither had promised her I should come and help them lay the table for the supper, and the like o' that. Sae I was dressed for Jennie Tweedie's bridal. I wasna thinking of either you, or your fine friend."

"I thought perhaps you had heard he was coming. Your fisher dress is very suitable to you. No doubt you look handsome in it. You likely thought its novelty would--would--make him fall in love with you."

"I thought naething o' that sort. Novelty! Where would the novelty be?

The lad is Fife. If he was sae unnoticing as never to get acquaint wi'

a Culraine fisher-wife, he lived maist o' his boyhood in Edinburgh.

Weel, he couldna escape seeing the Newhaven fisherwomen there, nor escape hearing their wonderful cry o' 'Caller herrin'!' And if he had ony feeling in his heart, if he once heard that cry, sae sweet, sae heartachy, and sae winning, he couldna help looking for the woman who was crying it; and then he couldna help seeing a fisher-wife, or la.s.sie. I warn you not to think o' me, Christine Ruleson, planning and dressing mysel' for any man. You could spane my love awa' wi' a very few o' such remarks."

"I meant nothing to wrong you, Christine. All girls dress to please the men."

"Men think sae. They are vera mich mista'en. Girls dress to outdress each ither. If you hae any writing to do, I want to gie you an hour's wark. I'll hae to leave the rest until morning."

Then Neil told her the whole of the proposal Angus had made him. He pointed out its benefits, both for the present and the future, and Christine listened thoughtfully to all he said. She saw even further than Neil did, the benefits, and she was the first to name the subject nearest to Neil's anxieties.

"You see, Neil," she said, "if you go to Ballister, you be to hae the proper dress for every occasion. The best suit ye hae now will be nane too good for you to wark, and to play in. You must hae a new suit for ordinary wear, forbye a full dress suit. I'll tell you what to do--David Finlay, wha dresses a' the men gentry round about here, is an old, old friend o' Feyther's. They herded together, and went to school and kirk togither, and Feyther and him have helped each ither across hard places, a' their life long."

"I don't want any favors from David Finlay."

"Hae a little patience, lad. I'm not asking you to tak' favors from anyone. I, mysel', will find the money for you; but I canna tell you how men ought to dress, nor what they require in thae little odds and ends, which are so important."

"Odds and ends! What do you mean?"

"Neckties, gloves, handkerchiefs, hats, and a proper pocket book for your money. I saw Ballister take his from his pocket, to put the laburnum leaves in, and I had a glint o' the bank bills in it, and I ken weel it is more genteel-like than a purse. I call things like these 'odds and ends.'"

"Such things cost a deal of money, Christine."

"I was coming to that, Neil. I hae nearly ninety-six pounds in the bank. It hes been gathering there, ever since my grandfeyther put five pounds in for me at my baptis.e.m.e.nt--as a nest egg, ye ken--and all I hae earned, and all that Feyther or Mither hae gien me, has helped it gather; and on my last birthday, when Feyther gave me a pound, and Mither ten s.h.i.+llings, I had ninety-six pounds. Now, Neil, dear lad, you can hae the use o' it all, if so be you need it. Just let Dave Finlay tell you what to get, and get it, and pay him for it--you can pay me back, when money comes easy to you."

"Thank you, Christine! You have always been my good angel. I will pay you out o' my first earnings. I'll give you good interest, and a regular I. O. U. which will be----"

"What are you saying, Neil? Interest! Interest! Interest on love? And do you dare to talk to me anent your I. O. U. If I canna trust your love, and your honor, I'll hae neither interest nor paper from you.

Tak my offer wi' just the word between us, you are vera welcome to the use o' the money. There's nae sign o' my marrying yet, and I'll not be likely to want it until my plenis.h.i.+ng and napery is to buy. You'll go to Finlay, I hope?"

"I certainly will. He shall give me just what is right."

"Now then, my time is up. I will be ready to do your copying at five o'clock in the morning. Then, after breakfast, you can go to the town, but you won't win into the Bank before ten, and maist likely Finlay will be just as late. Leave out the best linen you hae, and I'll attend to it, wi' my ain hands."

"Oh, Christine, how sweet and good you are! I'm afraid I am not worthy o' your love!"

"Vera likely you are not. Few brothers love their sisters as they ought to. It willna be lang before you'll do like the lave o' them, and put some strange la.s.s before me."