Central High School - Mirror Yearbook (Birmingham, AL)

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hotel, ii it were not so close to Hermitage, with the gloomy old castle hidden in the midst of a dense wood and cursed by black and bloody memories. W ell, we hadn't been at Copshaw a week when Richard came down one morning rigged out in his new hunting suit, with a behoof cartridges around his waist, and his heaviest gun on his shoulder. “May Dick go with me, Mother? he asked, chucking me under the chin, and brushing the hair from off my forehead. “Go where? I didn’t like to tru t the poodle to him when he was in this mood, let alone Dick. Oh, just for a little stroll. I’ve heard quail are quite plentiful over tiear the Hermitage.” 1 never saw a man so crazy about shooting innocent things, as vou are, in my life, Richard Gruen.” ‘‘Ah, now, Mither---- Like as not if 1 let Dick go. you'll bring him home all shot up! Go on. and take him, but for the Laird's sake be careful.” They went, and it seemed to me they were the longest time coming back! I could have crossed the channel in hours less time! It was after midnight when I heard steps in the hall: I opened the door to find Richard standing there—alone. His face was all drawn and haggard and a wild look was in his eyes such as Ld never seen before. “Where’s Dick? “I ken nicht, Mither, he choked—he always lapsed into Scotch when he was excited— I hae e’en bane hunting him e’er since dusk.” Richard! Dick isn’t hurt?” “That's jist what I nae ken, I nae ken whither nr nicht he’s hurt.” “Tell me about it. quick! Then, we must hurry and look for him.” He spoke in such a sputtering of Scotch that it was hard for even me to understand him, but I gathered from it that the boy had been lost about seven hours. They had been quite successful in the hunt, but Dick did not wish to go home when Richard called him. He spied some especially beautiful heather high upon a knoll, and ran after it. Richard said he he’ard a shrill voice call: “I'm coinin’! Yes. I’m cornin'!” ami as he thought the boy was calling t » him he waited. After a few minutes he began to call at intervals, but received no answer, and went hurrying up the hillside in search of the Child. T haj never seen Richard weep but once before, and that was when lie received the last letter from his brother Bane, then in Africa but he broke quit down when he told me that lie had found a bunch of the heather on a big stone with I lie print of the baby fingers still on the stems, and vet. though lie wandered till midnight, be found no trace of Dick. We turned in the alarm at the hotel. “Baby lost at Hermitage! ran from mouth to mouth, and soon there was a large party scouring the woods and moors in feverish haste. About davbrcak we came upon a clearing, in the midst of a black forest, and down in the hollow there was a tiny hovel. The roof was thatched with brush, and a vine was trained so as to cover each end concealing the naneless windows. Bv some strange chance the wildest pinkish-purple heather grew right up to the door, and almost hid the single step. I don't know why it was. but a feeling came over me that the boy was near. 25

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girl would be able to direct him. As he drew near the girl turned and threw herself into his arms. It was Mae. but what a change! She was dressed in a rough, brown riding suit, her face was sunburned and her hair hung down her back in one long plait. In the place of the big bunch of hot-house flowers, that Dick was accustomed to see her wear, was a large cluster of goldcnrod. The next day Mae and Dick went for a long ride out on the country roads. “I have something to tell you.’’ Mae said as they started, “and I know of the dearest place way out among the rocks where, the goldenrod blooms in a perfect mass of color. The goldenrod was in full glory and seemed in some way (strange to Dick) to appeal to Mac. Long before they had reached the place where they were to stop for their talk, their arms were full of the beautiful golden blossoms. As they sat together among the rocks and admired the beauty of the scene. Mae said softly, “Dick, I’ve changed my mind, I don't want a big wedding. I never want to see another evening dress. ' “Why, what's the matter, little girl. I thought-■ “Yes. I know you think that I care for nothing but a good time and parties and those things, but I have found out that I would rather live simply and have the power to see and appreciate the beautiful things around me. I am finding out how to know people ‘worth while and they don’t live in the way I did. We will have our wedding in that little brown church over there and all of the decorations will he goldenrod. FT.OREXCF. SMITH. 13. A SPRIG OF HEATHER. “( h. for a breath o’ the moorlands A whiff o’ the caller air! For the scent o the flowerin’ heather, My very heart is sair! We were spending the summer in Scotland, Richard tiruen, myself, and Baby Dick, six years old last May. Scotland, you must know, was my husband’s early home, before he left it to make his fortune in America. Well, he had not been back since long before we were married, and one morning, almost before the first nasturtium was up in the front garden, he said to me, “Elina, we must go back. The heather is calling me home. We must get there just as the buds arc coining.” Well, as I said before, we went, he. Dick and I. I must say, I never was such a crank about natural scenery as Richard, but anybody would have fallen under the spell of the wonderful beauties of the Liddcl Valley. I was surprised that we didn’t go to Traquaire, where all Richard’s people were, but he didn’t mention it. and neither did I. not being over anxious to be with his rantin’ “old Scotch ‘oman o’ a mither.” We made straight for Harvick Among the Hills, and put up at Copshaw, a very nice little 24

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Just as J turned to speak to Richard, we heard a well known voice say, “I don’ know, Wed Tap Lady. Wc motioned the others to stand back and Richard and I crept softly up to the door. A low mellow Scottish voice said, Ken ye na. whose bairn ye be? Daddy's 1 say. “I hae gut nichts outen ye, stupit bairn —the voice was almost angry, yet tilled with a strange note of entreaty— what be ye fayther’s name? Mistah Cirueti, I done tole you, W ed Tap La— iruen— Irticn ! Eh ? Speak ye. bairn ! Yes! lemme doe home------' Ava Maria —we felt the head was bowed—“forgive it me. I did na ken—his bairn—bis bairn. Dick's soft little voice asked. “Where my daddy, W ed Tap Lady? Richard knocked loudly upon the door, it opened, ami we entered. A pale voting girl was sitting on a low stool, with Dick in her lap. She wore a tight red cap, from under which escaped jet-black ringlets. She was very dark, almost as dark as a Highland gypsy, but she was very pale. Site did not seem to be at all surprised when we entered. Madam. 1 hope I'm not intruding, but my wife and I have been looking for the boy. said Richard. I foundit him! she answered almost sullenly. “Be this vour bairn, or —or—Bane's—Bane’s? I started. How did she know Richard, or bis brother Bane? This creature of the heather must surely be mad. Richard spoke again. “That is my son. Bane— “Of course—come to mother. Dick. 1 interrupted him, for at sight of us the hoy had set up such a joyful cry. that 1 had to take him into my arms and hold him there safely. “Wait ve. he maun tell me o' Bane. said the strange girl. “Bane has been in Africa these seven years, madam, he is my brother. “Brother? Why go way?” “The day I married. Bane left for Africa, said he could not stand to see my happiness. Here Richard actually kissed me right before that girl! “Poor old Banc. he added, he could not stand it. “Couldna stand what, mon? His betrothed refused to marry the day before the wedding. Let’s not talk about it- -come, wife. . “X a—na—stay! Look it a’ me. mon! I was to hae been bis bride! 1 tried to comfort her. “You poor dear, how did it happen?’’ “1 hae him nae said 1 wouldna! T hae the love fur him, he gen I still hae the love for him it war n tale, told bv a jealous Highlander!” She turned to me. “Lookit. ye. From a cupboard she took an envelope yellow with age. V?uon it was inscribed in Bane firuen’s hand, “To Tpsie. Dick’s baby hands opened it. for she handed it to him. Wrc found within a sprig of musty dried heather, with three faded buds. A card bore this message, “Three buds mean good-bve—forever. Tpsie. mv Bonnie. BANE.” “And he never spoke to you afterward? “X’a—na. nae. 26