merrily; Sandie and his bridearm-in-arm next; then, four deep, lads and lasses gay, to the number offifty at least.
And what cheering and laughing as they reached the door. But finallyall departed to prepare for the ball that was to take place later on inthe great barn of Bilberry Hall.
And it was a barn, too!--or, rather, a loft, for it was built partly ona brae, so that after climbing some steps you found yourself on levelground, and entered a great door.
Early in the evening, long ere lad and lass came linking to the door,the band had taken their places on an elevated platform at one side of,but in the middle of, the hall.
The floor was swept and chalked, the walls all around densely decoratedwith evergreens, Scotch pine and spruce and heather galore, with hereand there hanging lamps.
Boys and girls, however, hovered around the doorway and peeped in nowand then, amazed and curious. To them, too, the tuning of themusicians' fiddles sent a thrill of joy expectant to their little souls.How they did long, to be sure, for the opening time.
As the vultures scent a battle from afar, so do the Aberdeen "sweetie"wives scent a peasant's ball. And these had already assembled to thenumber of ten in all, with baskets filled to overflowing with packets ofsweets. These would be all sold before morning. These sweetie wiveswere not young by any means--save one or two--
"But withered beldames, auld and droll, Rig-woodie hags would spean a foal."
They really looked like witches in their tall-crowned white cotton capswith flapping borders.
A half-hour goes slowly past. The band is getting impatient. A sweetwee band it is--three small fiddles, a 'cello, a double bass, andclarionet. The master of ceremonies treats them all to a thistle of thewine of the country. Then the leader gives a signal, and they strikeinto some mournfully plaintive old melodies, such as "Auld Robin Grey,""The Flowers o' the Forest," "Donald," etc, enough to draw tears fromanyone's eyes.
But now, hurrah! in sails Fanny with Shufflin' Sandie on her arm,looking as bright as a new brass button. There is a special seat forthem, and for the Laird, Annie, and the quality generally, at the farend of the hall--a kind of arbour, sweetly bedecked with heather, anddraped with McLeod tartan. Here they take their seats. There is a rowof seats all round the hall and close to the walls.
And now crowd in the Highland lads and lasses gay, the latter mostly inwhite, with ribbons in their hair, and tartan sashes across theirbreasts and shoulders. Very beautiful many look, with complexions suchas duchesses might envy, and their white teeth flashing like pearls asthey whisper to each other and smile.
As each couple file in at the door, the gentleman takes his partner to aseat, bows and retires to his own side, for the ladies and gentlemen areseated separately, modestly looking at each other now and then, the ladsreally infinitely more shy than the lasses.
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Now Laird McLeod slowly rises. There is a hush now, and all eyes areturned towards the snowy-haired grand old man.
"Ladies and gentlemen all," he says, "I trust you will enjoy a reallyhappy evening, and I am sure it will be an innocent one. `Youth's theseason made for joy.' I have only to add that the bridegroom himselfwill open the ball with a hornpipe."
A deafening cheer rang out, the musicians struck up that inimitableCollege Hornpipe, and next moment, arrayed in his best clothes,Shufflin' Sandie was in the middle of the floor. He waited, bowing tothe McLeod and the ballroom generally, till the first measure wasplayed. Then surely never did man-o'-war sailor dance as Sandie danced!His legs seemed in two or three places at one time, and so quickly didhe move that scarce could they be seen. He seemed, indeed, to have asmany limbs as a daddy-long-legs. He shuffled, he tripled anddouble-tripled, while the cracking of his thumbs sounded for all theworld like a nigger's performance with the bones. Then every wild,merry "Hooch!" brought down the house. Such laughing and clapping ofhands few have ever heard before. Sandie's uncouth little figure anddroll face added to the merriment, and when he had finished there was ageneral cry of "Encore!" Sandie danced another step or two, then bowed,took a huge pinch of snuff, and retired.
But the ball was not quite opened yet. A foursome reel was next dancedby the bride and Annie herself, with as partners Shufflin' Sandie andMcLeod's nephew, a handsome young fellow from Aberdeen. It was the Reelof Tulloch, and, danced in character, there is not much to beat it.
Then came a cry of "Fill the floor!" and every lad rushed across thehall for his partner. The ball was now indeed begun. And so, withdance after dance, it went on for hours:
"Lads and lassies in a dance; Nae cotillion brent new frae France; But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys, and reels Put life and mettle in their heels."
Sandie hardly missed a dance. He was indeed the life and soul of theballroom.
The sweetie wives were almost sold out already, for every Jock musttreat his own Jeannie, or the other fellow's Jeannie, to bags andhandfuls of sweets. And the prettier the girl was the more shereceived, till she was fain to hand them over to her less good-lookingsisters.
But at midnight there came a lull--a lull for refreshments.White-aproned servants staggered in with bread, butter, and cheese, andbucketfuls of strong whisky punch.
There was less reserve now. The lads had their lasses at either side ofthe hall, and for the most part on their knees. Even the girls musttaste the punch, and the lads drank heartily--not one mugful each, butthree! Nevertheless, they felt like giants refreshed.
"And now the fun grew fast and furious"--and still more so when, arrayedin all the tartan glory of the Highland dress, two stalwart pipersstalked in to relieve the band, grand men and athletes!
"They screwed their pipes and made them skirl, Till roofs and rafters all did dirl. The pipers loud and louder blew, The dancers quick and quicker flew."
But at two o'clock again came a lull; more biscuits, morebread-and-cheese, and many more buckets of toddy or punch. And duringthis lull, accompanied by the violins, Sandie sang the grand oldlove-song called "The Rose of Allandale." It was duly appreciated, andSandie was applauded to the "ring of the bonnet," as he himself phrasedit.
Then Annie herself was led to the front by her uncle. Everyone wassilent and seemingly dazzled by her rare but childlike beauty.
Her song was "Ever of thee I'm fondly dreaming." Perhaps few were nearenough to see, but the tears were in the girl's eyes, and almoststreaming over more than once before she had finished.
And now McLeod and his party took their leave, Sandie and his bridefollowing close behind.
The ball continued after this, however, till nearly daylight in themorning. Then "Bob at the Booster"--a kind of kiss-in-the-ring dance--brought matters to a close, and, wrapped in plaids and shawls, thecouples filed away to their homes, over the fields and through theheather.
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Next day Shufflin' Sandie was working away among his horses as quietlyand contentedly as if he had not been married at all yesterday, or spentthe evening in a ballroom.
Before, however, leaving his little cottage by the wood, he haddutifully made his wife a cup of tea, and commanded her to rest forhours before turning out to cook their humble dinner. And dutifully sheobeyed.
The Laird and Sandie came to an arrangement that same forenoon as to howmuch work he was to do for him and how much for himself.
"Indeed, sir," he told McLeod, "I'll just get on the same as I didbefore I got the wife. My kail-yard's but small as yet, and it'll belittle trouble to dig and rake in the evening."
"Very well, Sandie. Help yourself to a glass there."
Sandie needed no second bidding. He was somewhat of an enthusiast asfar as good whisky was concerned; perfectly national, in fact, asregarded the wine of "poor auld Scotland."
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Nearly three years passed away.
The ship had not returned. She neverwould, nor could.
CHAPTER NINE.
A BOLT FROM THE BLUE.
Nearly three years! What a long, lonesome time it had been for Annie!Yet she still had somewhat of hope--at times, that is.
Her cousin, Mr Beale, from the city, had spent his holiday verydelightfully at Bilberry Hall; he had gone shooting, and fishing also,with Annie; yet, much though he admired her, and could have loved her,he treated her with the greatest respect, condoled with her in hersorrow, and behaved just like a brother to her.
Her somewhat elderly lover was different. Lover he was yet, though nowfifty and three years of age, but fatherly and kind to a degree.
"We all have griefs to bear in this world, Annie dear," he said once."They are burdens God sends us to try our patience. But your sorrowmust soon be