Norman Vallery Part 16

"Poor boy," he said quietly, "he kens no better."

Robby bad in the meantime run out, and was admiring the carriage by himself, thinking how much he should like to have it to drag about, and to bring the meal home in, instead of allowing his grandfather to carry it on his back.

f.a.n.n.y was curious all the time, to learn something more about their host. He was evidently different to the other people around, and it seemed so strange that he and the little boy should be living together in that lone cottage on the wild moor. But she did not like to ask him questions, and as he did not offer to say anything more about himself than he had done, she restrained her curiosity intending to ask Mr Maclean more about him when she got home.

At last her clothes, and boots, and stockings being dry, she told the old man that she thought it was time to begin their homeward journey.

"As you wish, young lady," he answered, and accompanied her and Norman out of the cottage. They found Robby at the door, looking at the carriage.

"Oh, you must get in," said f.a.n.n.y, "and I will draw you. My brother can walk very well some of the way."

"Thank you, young lady," said the old man; "if you will let Robby have a ride, I will draw the carriage, and let him come a little way, but he must go back, and look after the house, and it would be over far for him to return, if he came with us to Glen Tulloch."

Norman looked very angry when Robby got into the carriage, and he himself had to walk, but he dared not complain, as there was something in the old man's manner which made him stand in awe of him.

After they had gone a short distance, his grandfather told Robby to run back, and thanking f.a.n.n.y, invited Norman to get in. The young gentleman did so, but he did not use his stick, as he had done when f.a.n.n.y was dragging him.

They easily crossed the stream, and f.a.n.n.y was surprised to find how soon they reached the top of the hill near Glen Tulloch.

"Now, young lady, you can easily take the carriage home, so I will wish you good-bye," said the old man; "I hope you will come soon again--it does my heart good to see you." f.a.n.n.y promised, if she was allowed, soon again to pay him a visit, and wis.h.i.+ng him good-bye, while he strolled back over the moor, she dragged the carriage down the hill.

She met the laird setting out to look for her and Norman.

"Why, my bonny la.s.sie, the ladies were afraid that you had wandered away over the moor and lost yourselves, you have been so long away, and they sent me off to try and find you."

f.a.n.n.y, without blaming Norman, told him of their adventure in the stream, and their meeting with the old man and his little grandson in the lone hut on the moor.

"Ah, that was old Alec Morrison," observed the laird. "His is a sad history, I will tell it you by-and-by, but come along home and satisfy the ladies that you are not lost."

"I am very glad you have come back at last, f.a.n.n.y, we were getting anxious about you," said Mrs Vallery. "I must not allow you to make excursions with Norman unless you can manage to come back with him in good time."

"I will try and manage better another time, mamma," she said, looking up after a minute's silence. "I should very much like to pay another visit to the old man who was so kind to us, and to take something for his little grandson. Poor little fellow, I pity him so much having to live out on a wild moor, where there are no other children to play with him.

His grandfather says he often leaves him alone in the cottage by himself."

"I cannot promise positively to let you go," said Mrs Vallery, "but I am sure that you will do your best to return in good time. I hope to be able to do so, and I should wish you to take something for the poor little child you speak of."

"Thank you, mamma," said f.a.n.n.y, kissing Mrs Vallery affectionately, and forgetting all about the way Norman had treated her, she ran off to prepare for tea.

CHAPTER SIX.

LEARNING TO FISH.

The next morning while they were at breakfast, f.a.n.n.y asked the laird to tell her something about Alec Morrison, the old man who had been so kind to her and her brother the previous day.

"I can only give you the outline of his history, but perhaps you may get him to narrate some of the many adventures he has gone through," he answered.

"He was born not far from this, and his mother was a shepherd's only daughter. His father who belonged also to this neighbourhood, when quite a young man had driven some cattle to a seaport town when he got pressed on board a man-of-war, and had sailed away to a foreign station, before he could let his friends know what had become of him, or take any steps to obtain his liberation. He had promised to marry Jennie Dow, whom he truly loved, and had hoped soon to save enough by his industry to set up house.

"Years and years pa.s.sed by during which Jennie, who would not believe that he was dead, remained faithful to him. Her father was getting old, and her friends advised her to secure a home for herself. She replied that it would be time enough to do so when her father was dead, and that as long as he lived, she would stay and look after him.

"At length, on the evening of a summer's day, a one-armed man in a sailor's dress approached the door. He looked ill and hungry and tired.

He stopped and asked for a cup of milk and a bit of bannock.

"'I will pay for both, gladly,' he said, 'and be thankful besides, for without some food I feel scarcely able to get on even to the village where, if the friends I once had there are still alive, I am sure to get a night's lodging and to learn about others, though may be they have forgotten me long ago.'

"'Come in and sit down, old friend,' said the shepherd, and Jennie placed a cup of milk and a bannock on the table.

"As she did so she cast an inquiring glance at the face of the stranger.

"'Who are you, friend?' asked Alec Dow. 'I am as likely as any one to tell you of the people in these parts.'

"'I am sure it must be,' exclaimed Jennie, coming forward and placing her hand on the stranger's shoulder. 'Don't you know me, Alec Morrison?'

"'O Jennie, I thought you must be married long ago!' exclaimed the sailor, jumping to his feet, 'for I could not think that you would have remembered me. And can you care for me now--a battered old hulk as I am, with one arm and half-a-dozen bullets through me, besides I don't know how many cutla.s.s cuts and wounds from pikes?'

"'I have never ceased to hope that you would return,' was Jennie's answer.

"As his daughter was the only being the old shepherd loved, he allowed her to marry the wounded sailor, who took up his abode with them, and served him faithfully till he died.

"Times went hard with Jennie and her husband, for Morrison's const.i.tution was shattered, and he could not work as hard as he wished.

They had one son, Alec, who grew up a fine manly boy. The sailor was fond of spinning yarns, to which his son listened with rapt attention, and longed to meet with the same adventures as his father.

"The boy was little more than twelve years old when his sailor father died from the wounds he had received fighting his country's battles.

"Though his thoughts often wandered away over the wide ocean which he had never yet seen, young Alec dutifully did his best to a.s.sist his mother, but she did not long survive her husband, and he was left an orphan.

"It would have been a hard matter for him living all alone to have made a livelihood, so he sold two of his heifers to obtain an outfit, and leaving the remainder as well as his cottage in charge of a relative of his father's, he started off to the nearest seaport. He had no difficulty in finding a s.h.i.+p, for he was as likely a lad as a captain could wish to have on board.

"He sailed away to foreign lands, to the East and West Indies, Australia, and the wide Pacific, and though he may have visited English ports in the meantime, many a long year pa.s.sed before he again saw the home of his youth.

"He at length came back with a young wife, and some money in his pocket.

He had undoubtedly pictured in his imagination his cottage on the wild moor as an earthly paradise, and had described it as such to his wife.

When she saw it, she expressed a very different opinion, and complained of the wretched hovel and savage region to which he had brought her.

Poor Alec told her with all sincerity that he had believed it to be very different to what he owned it really was. He promised to take her back to the town where her father lived, although in order to support her he must again go to sea. His relation was an honest man and promised to take charge of his property as before, for Alec would not sell it, and leaving his young wife he once more went to sea.

"On his return from his first voyage, he found that she was dead, and had left behind her a daughter. He had still the little damsel to work for, and so the brave sailor placed her under charge of her grandmother, and again sailed away over the ocean.

"His thoughts often wandered back to his little daughter for whose benefit he was enduring hards.h.i.+ps and dangers--twice he was wrecked, and many years pa.s.sed by before he again got home, and found his daughter no longer a little child but a full-grown woman, and as ready I am afraid to spend the old sailor's money as her mother had been. He had not, however, much to give her, and so in a short time off to sea he went again to get more. Next time he came back feeling that this voyage must be the last, for he was getting too old to endure the hards.h.i.+ps of a life on the ocean, he found his daughter married to a sailor. Her husband had soon to go away to sea, and shortly afterwards news came that his fine s.h.i.+p had foundered, and all on board had perished. His poor young wife was heart-broken at the news, and not many weeks afterwards she was taken away, leaving her little boy who was born at the time to the charge of her father. Her mother's family were all dead, and Alec Morrison found himself alone in the world with his little grandson Robby, and possessed of but scanty means of support. He had just money enough to bring him to his old home in the Highlands.

"His cousin though a poor man had done his best to keep the cottage in repair, and to preserve a few head of cattle which he handed over to him.

"The old sailor took up his abode with little Robby in the cottage, hoping with the small plot of ground surrounding it and his cattle to obtain the means of supporting himself and his grandson. He, often, I fear has a difficulty in doing so, but he never complains, and recollecting how he lived as a boy, often I believe fancies himself one again.

"He employs his spare time in taming birds and making cages for them, and in cutting models of vessels and boats, and manufacturing other articles; indeed, I believe he is never idle, and seems as contented and happy as if he had been prosperous all his life, and never met with a misfortune.

"There, I have told you all I know about old Alec and his ancestors and descendants--four generations if I reckon rightly. I daresay as I before said, if you ask him that he will be happy to narrate some of the many adventures he has met with during his voyages. I suspect that he often, while enjoying his pipe, tells them to Robby as he sits on his knee during the long winter evenings, though the little fellow must be puzzled to understand whereabouts they take place, unless he knows more about geography than probably is the case."

"Thank you, Mr Maclean," exclaimed f.a.n.n.y, "I long to see old Alec again, after the account you have given us of him; I feel so sorry for him that he should have lost his father and mother, his wife and daughter, and all the money he has gained with so much toil and hards.h.i.+p, and now to be compelled to live alone with a little child to look after."