The Heather-Moon
board the same ship was a man calling himself James Richard, a man of
something over thirty, in whom Somerled became interested. They made
friends, though they gave each other no intimate confidences; and James
Richard made one or two remarks which suggested that he had been a
doctor. Evidently he was a man of culture, interested in many things,
including chemistry and Scottish history. After landing in New York the
two met occasionally by appointment, and the older man spoke of an
invention which, if he could get the help of some millionaire to perfect
it, ought to make his fame and fortune, and revolutionize anaesthetics;
but Somerled had thought little of this at the time. So many men he met
in those days had queer fads by means of which they hoped to achieve
glory. Soon, even before he himself reached success, Somerled and James
Richard drifted apart. The rising artist forgot the ship-acquaintance
with whom, owing to the difference in their ages and interests, he had
never had more than casual acquaintance. It was not until he heard the
story of Mrs. James's husband, the clever doctor who loved Scottish
history and had invented a new anaesthetic just before disappearing
seventeen years ago, that he remembered his shipmate, James Richard.
Then he recalled his appearance; and the descriptions tallied. A scar on
the forehead was a distinguishing mark with the man supposed to have
drowned himself and the man who had travelled to America in the
steerage. Somerled cabled at once to New York, instructing a firm of
private detectives to trace James Richard, an Englishman, probably a
doctor, who had landed in New York from a certain ship on a certain
date.
The first reply was not very encouraging. The man had left New York many
years ago, and no one knew where he had gone. But the next cablegram
brought news that James Richard, or some one answering to the name and
description had been tracked to Chicago. There he had practised as a
doctor with some success, but had fallen seriously ill, had given up his
business, and had again disappeared. The detective "on the job" was
going to Colorado to look for him, as the climate of that state had been
recommended to Richard by a fellow practitioner.
On the Monday morning after our arrival in Edinburgh, a third message
had come. This announced that the doctor had left Colorado and gone to
California, where he was now living at Riverside, with a rising
practice; but that he was considered a "crank," because he constantly
besieged rich men to start a laboratory in which to work out his
theories. Two or three had half promised their help, but for some reason
or other the financial schemes had fallen through. Still the man never
appeared to lose hope. Having received this news, Somerled wired direct
to the doctor, offering him as much money as he needed, if, before
anything further was settled, he would come over to Scotland and reveal
himself to his wife.
Up to this time, Somerled had said nothing to Mrs. James, except that he
hoped to give her a pleasant surprise; and told her even this only
because she planned to go back to Carlisle, now that Barrie was with her
mother. Naturally Somerled had several important reasons for wishing the
little woman to stay; but the one, he alleged, was his desire to see
what she thought of the "surprise" when it came.
He, of course, must have had visions of keeping this useful queen of
spades up his sleeve, that he might be ready to trump one of our knavish
tricks with her, at any moment; but the gods fought against him for
once. Just before theatre-time, arrived a long cablegram from James
Richard, alias Richard James. He thanked Somerled enthusiastically (Mrs.
James showed the message to me, and to every one of us), accepted his
loan, believing that eventually it could be repaid, and was more than
happy to hear news of his wife, whom he had left only for her own good,
because at that tune he considered himself disgraced and ruined. He had
intended suicide, but the thought of his invention had changed his mind
and plans at the last moment. He had gone to the new world to find what
the old had denied him, and after a hundred disappointments he was to be
rewarded, through Somerled. He asked now for nothing better than to
return, but only for long enough to see his wife, and take her back to
California with him. To his deep regret, however, he could not start at
once, as he had broken his leg and would not be able to travel for
several weeks at least. Would she come to him as soon as she could
settle her affairs?
I imagine Somerled must have been sorely tempted not to show this
message, for it would rob him of Mrs. James and leave him where he had
been after his quarrel with Aline, minus a chaperon for Barrie, if he
could contrive to snatch the girl from Mrs. Bal. But he had said too
much about the "surprise" to suppress developments now. Besides, it
would have been almost inhuman to delay the meeting of the husband and
wife, so long parted. Neither would have forgiven him if he had coolly
kept them apart for his own convenience; but so grateful, so adoring to
her hero was Mrs. James, that if "the doctor" had not been ill and
needing her, I think of her own free will she would have offered to stop
in Edinburgh for a few days to "see what happened." As it was, there was
no question of her staying. She and Somerled arranged that she should
leave for Carlisle by the first train possible in the morning. At home
she was to settle her few affairs temporarily, and catch a quick ship
for New York, whence she would hurry on to California.
Somerled gave her advice for the journey (and perhaps something more
substantial), but he must have seen that, though virtue might be its own
reward, he was unlikely to get any other. Mrs. Bal had lent Barrie to
us, and without a woman to aid and abet him, it seemed to me that he was
powerless. Such chaperons as Mrs. James don't grow on blackberry bushes
even in Scotland, where blackberries, if not gooseberries, are the best
in the world. Somerled had done for himself.
Oh, there was no doubt of it this time! Not only had we, in the game of
chess we were quietly playing with him, got his little white queen in
check; we had swept her off the board.
* * * * *
Happenings began thick and fast the morning after.
The first thing I heard was, from Aline, that at the theatre last night
(probably just after she sent us away) Mrs. Bal had told Morgan Bennett
in so many words that Barrie was practically engaged to me. After a
week's trip in my society it was to be expected that she would arrive in
Glasgow to ask her elder sister's blessing.
This, Aline thought, necessitated our getting off at once, lest Bennett
should contrive to meet the girl alone somehow, and question her. If he
did this, the "fat would be in the fire" for Mrs. Bal, and perhaps for
me too.
"The sooner the better," said I; for I was impatient to spirit the girl
away from Somerled, and turn her thoughts from him to me. If I prayed to
the heather moon for help, I felt that I ought to succeed; for the man
who can have a girl of eighteen to himself (not counting a few chaperons
lying about loose) in a motor-car for a week, passing through the
loveliest country in the world, and can't make her forget for his sake
some other fellow she's known only a few hours longer, must be a born
duffer. This I dinned into my consciousness.
It was to be my first real chance with Barrie; and though never in my
life before have I made serious love to any flesh-and-blood girl, I've
made so much with my pen to the most difficult and diverse heroines,
that I had a certain belief in my own powers, once they had free play.
The second thing that happened this morning of happenings, however, was
a slight setback, just enough of a setback to let me see that the
heather moon is a goddess who exacts more wooing from her votaries than
I had given. Or else, that she has her favourites, and is more ready to
look with a kindly eye on a man born to the heather than one who comes
from afar to write it up.
Barrie, it appeared, had had a "scene" with Barbara. She had insisted
with tears and (according to Mrs. Bal) stampings of foot, that she
_would_ go to the Waverley station with Mrs. James and see her off for
Carlisle.
Mrs. James was to be taken to the train by Somerled, in his car; and as
no one but Barrie had been invited, this meant that the girl would
return with him alone. To be sure, it would not take five minutes for
the Gray Dragon to slip from the Waverley end of Princes Street back to
the Caledonian. On the other hand, it was evident that Mrs. James must
have a special reason for choosing the Waverley station, when she could
just as well have gone from our own; and Aline and I could see only one.
Somerled wanted to snatch five minutes alone with Barrie; and he was not
the man to waste a single one of the five. The question was, what use
did he intend to make of his time? None of us could guess, for Somerled
is a puzzle too hard to read. Not even Aline (who was so nervous that,
figuratively speaking, she started at every sound in the enemy's camp)
believed that Somerled would try to run away with the girl. I soothed
her by saying that I thought it very doubtful whether Somerled would ask
the girl to marry him, even if everything were in his favour. I still
tried to believe that in his opinion she was too young and had seen too
little of life to settle down as a married woman. He might be in love
with her--to me it was beginning to seem impossible that a man could
know her and not be in love--but with a strong, self-controlled man of
Somerled's calibre, falling in love and marrying need not be the same
thing.
Mrs. Bal, after the "scene" (in which she too, apparently, played a
stormy part) had angrily consented to give Barrie her own way, but only
on the girl's threat to decline making the trip with us, if thwarted.
Something in Barrie's eyes had warned the lady not to go too far, and on
her promise to return directly Mrs. James had gone, Mrs. Bal sulkily
waived her objections.
"Why don't you, too, see Mrs. James off?" suggested Aline. "You've been
great friends. She ought to be complimented. And you might take her some
flowers. That would please Barrie, who is now worshipping Ian as a tin
saint on wheels because he has found Mrs. James's husband and offered to
finance him to success. You ought to do _something_."
I thought this a good idea, and on the top of it had one of my own,
which I didn't mention to Aline, lest it should fail. Not only did I buy
flowers, the prettiest and most expensive I could find (worthy of Barrie
or Mrs. Bal), but a box of sweets, another of Scotch shortbread, a few
cairngorm brooches, and amethyst and silver thistles picked up at
random, and a copy of Aline's and my last book which I found (well
displayed) on the station book-stall. When Aline sees only one copy she
will not buy it, as she thinks it a pity the book should disappear from
public view; but this was an occasion of importance, and I didn't
hesitate to pluck the last fruit from the bough.
When Mrs. James, Barrie, and Somerled arrived (Vedder being left in
charge of the car) there was I waiting, laden with offerings. I stuck to
the party till the end, waving my farewell as the train slowly moved
out, and then I summoned up courage (or impudence, depending on the
point of view) to ask if Somerled would take me back. "I walked here," I
said, "so as to do my little shopping for Mrs. James, and I came so fast
I've hardly got my breath back."
I was prepared for some excuse to keep me out of the car; but I wronged
Somerled. If any one looked disappointed it was Barrie, not he. He said,