"Nay, la.s.sie, gude save us, she didna do so, for she turned her bonnie face up to his, and looked sae loving and airnest in his e'e, that it was quite a sight. And, Jenny, la.s.sie, ain't ye glad I'm head-gairdener noo. I dinna care myself, but I thought ye'd be glad."

"McCray," exclaimed Jane, earnestly, as she came once more closer to him, "you're a good and true-hearted man, and I'm not worthy of you."

"Hoot--hoot! la.s.sie; haud that clap."

"But," continued Jane, "I've no one else to talk to and confide in. You are thoughtful and wise, and see a great deal, and then say nothing about it. You know how Sir Murray and my lady have been of late, and how he has behaved."

"Yes--yes," said Sandy; "he's been feeling just as I used to feel when--"

"Don't, please--don't say any more about that."

"Not I, la.s.sie," said Sandy, caressingly.

"But this soft way of his, now, I don't like it," said Jane. "My life on it, he's never had any cause for his jealousy. I believe now it was all due to that wicked wretch saying things of my dear lady, and Sir Murray getting to hear of them."

"Hoot, not so fast, la.s.sie. What wicked wretch?"

"Oh, don't ask me," said Jane, with pained face. "You know who I mean."

"So I do, la.s.sie--so I do," said Sandy, smiling, and softly rubbing his hands. "But he'll do nae mair mischief."

"Well," said Jane, eagerly, "I saw Sir Murray only this morning talking gently to my lady, and as soon as he left her, he was looking that evil, and muttering so, that it was horrible. I don't believe in him, and there's something wrong. She has offended him, and he hasn't forgiven her. You know how I love my lady."

"Gude sake, yes, la.s.sie, and I love ye for't."

"And that dear, sweet babe! I don't think she loves it better herself.

And only a night or two since she was down on her knees, crying fit to break her heart, by its side; and she said to me, 'Jane--Jane, when something happens to me, be a mother to it; never leave her side, come what may.'"

"And ye promised her?" said Sandy, earnestly.

"Of course," exclaimed Jane, as she wiped her eyes.

"Gude la.s.s--gude la.s.s; and it's not me that will ask ye to. Ye shall watch over the little thing, Jenny, and I'll help ye. But what's she mean aboot when something happens her?"

"Oh, it's her low way, and I think she's afraid of Sir Murray; and now all this change in him isn't natural. I tell you, Alexander--"

"Gude; I like that," muttered the Scot, as, in her earnestness, Jane laid her hand upon his arm.

"I tell you, that if anything happens to my dear lady, I shall think it's his doing."

"Hoot--tut--tut! la.s.sie, ye're giving way to strange thoughts, such as oughtn't to be in a Christian woman's heart. And now, la.s.sie, I winna bother ye, but ye'll always talk to me like this, and come to me for counsel. I'm nae Solomon, Jenny, but I'll always tell ye the most I know. And there, there, little one, ye'll be my ain wife some day, winna ye?"

There must have been something very satisfactory in Jane's reply, for, after a few moment's silence, Alexander McCray went softly away upon the points of his boots, making his way into the garden, where he was soon busy superintending the improvement of flower-beds, and making alterations in spots that had long been an eyesore to him, inasmuch as they had been favourite whims of the now pensioned off, prejudiced old man, who had hitherto ruled the grounds.

"Gude sake, she's a real woman," muttered Sandy, as he raised his cap to Lady Gernon, who, basket in hand, pa.s.sed him on her way to the gates.

"I like to see a woman with a lo'e for flowers, even if they be the wild wee bits o' things she picks. But here comes the laird."

Book 1, Chapter x.x.xI.

UNDER ORDERS.

Andy McCray, in spite of his dignity as head "gairdner," was not above working hard himself, and he was busy enough when, slowly and gloomily, Sir Murray made his appearance, looking anxiously about the grounds, as if in search of something he could not see. He went first in one direction, then in another, and at last he returned to where Sandy was busy.

"Has her ladyship pa.s.sed this way, gardener?" he said.

"Yes, Sir Mooray, a quarter of an hour syne. She took the path for the north gate."

Sir Murray Gernon bent his head by way of thanks, and walked slowly down the path till he had pa.s.sed round the house, when he started off walking swiftly, making for the north gate, through which he pa.s.sed, and then walked hurriedly on.

There was the wife of one of the under-gardeners at the lodge ready to drop him a courtesy, and from her he could, no doubt, have learned in a moment which direction her ladyship had taken, but he refrained from asking; and, evidently with an idea that he knew the place to which she would resort, he took a narrow path leading off towards a wood, one of the few old forests yet left in England; but, after walking quite half an hour, always anxiously peering to right or left, he seemed to be at fault, and turned sharply back to go in another direction, this time almost at a run.

That he was much agitated was plain enough, for though his face, and even his lips, were white, the veins in his forehead stood out in a perfect network, his pulses, too, throbbing fiercely. Twice over a heavy bead of perspiration trickled down his face, but he heeded it not, but, evidently now settled upon the point he sought, he pa.s.sed rapidly along a by-path which led into one of the inner recesses of the wood.

Sir Murray had not left the garden ten minutes when, rising from his work for an instant, McCray became aware of the flutter of a dress in the distance, and the next instant made out that the wearer was Jane Barker, who now signalled him to come to her.

"And me so busy, too," muttered the gardener. "I did say that all my bit of courting should be done of an evening; and here's a temptation, coming in the middle of the day. But there, gude save us, I must go when she calls, if I lose my place."

"And there ye are, then," he said, as he reached the place where Jane was anxiously awaiting him, "the brightest flower in the garden, la.s.sie."

"Oh, Alexander!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Jane.

"Bless ye for that, my bairn! Ye've taken, then, to ca' me by my name at last."

"Pray--pray make haste and help me. What shall I do?"

"Do, la.s.sie," exclaimed the downright Scot. "Why, tell me what's the matter."

"Yes, yes," cried the agitated girl. "You know my lady went out a little while since."

"Ay, I saw her go."

"And then Sir Murray came down."

"To be sure, and he askit me the which way she'd gone."

"Yes, yes," cried Jane, "and I went up on to the top of the house on the leads, and I've been watching him, and he's followed her."

"To be sure, la.s.sie; and wadna I ha'e done the same if ye'd gone the same gait?"

"Oh yes--no,--I don't know," said Jane; "but I don't like it, and I want you to follow them."

"Me? Follow? What, go after Sir Mooray and my lady?" exclaimed McCray.

"Hoot, la.s.sie, and have ye gone daft?"

"Daft! no!" cried Jane, angrily. "You must--indeed, you must go after them. He came to me quite angry when he found that her ladyship had gone out, and asked me where I thought she'd be; and I told him, like the fool that I was; and I don't like things--I don't, indeed; and I'm afraid there's mischief on the way."

"My dear bairn," said the thoughtful Scot, "I'm afraid ye've been letting your fancy run away with ye full galop. Once you women get an idea into your poor little heads ye go racing after it full tear. Now, let me ask ye what is there strange in my lady going out to pick specimens, as she's done hundreds o' times before? and, now that they're making it up, for Sir Mooray to go after her?"

"Nothing--nothing," said Jane, earnestly, "if it were all genuine; but, Alexander--dear Alexander, there's Judas kisses as well as true ones, and I know he did not mean what you saw. I'm troubled about it all, and I come to you for help: don't fail me, please, now this first time."