# Lindigo, the White Woman/Chapter 2

CHAP. II.
THE FAIRIES SPIRITING AWAY THE VENISON.
We left Charlie Stuart with the fainting form of Bella McKay in his arms, after being insulted by Lord Lundy at the bridge of Linn. The innocent maid, having never before been approached with such improper freedom, particularly by a stranger, became so much alarmed and terrified, and had exerted her powers to such a degree to release herself, that she fell off in a swoon in the arms of her deliverer.
Poor Charlie, never before being placed in such a situation, and ignorant of the proper restoratives for such an emergency, was under the impression that his dear playfellow had for ever bade adieu to this life. He therefore burst forth into an agony of despair, and as if to call her back into life again, gave vent to many endearing lamentations and epithets.
In the midst of this passionate gust, Bella at length awoke as out of a heavy sleep, but was yet too feeble to move or articulate a word. Slowly opening her eyes, and gazing abstractedly in the fond and anxious countenance which bent over her, and as if relapsing into her former insensibility, she closed them again. "Bella, dear, live for me!" moaned her supporter, pressing his burning lips to hers as if to breathe life into them again. The fond pressure revived her instantly, and his last words sounded lovingly in her ear, which at once reminded her of the position she was placed in. Gazing around, she noticed her bosom exposed by a rent in her dress caused in the struggle, and which her supporter was now covering over with her plaid. Conscious ​shame came to her aid even in the arms of her dear friend, and with some embarrassment she faintly murmured, "I am well now." Noticing her confusion, Charlie helped her to rise. After being placed on her feet again, she gazed cautiously around, and inquired, "Is he gone?" On being satisfied on this point, Charlie offered to accompany her part of the way home, to which she agreed, and took his proffered arm, being still too weak to walk unsupported.
On their way along, in discussing the delicate subject, it was arranged between them that, as no serious harm had taken place, they would keep the whole a perfect secret even from Mr. McKay, her father; having no doubt but the stranger must be one of those bold Englishmen who usually visit the Highlands in the shooting season, and had taken up his abode at the Castle.
Relieving Charlie of her arm, Bella proposed to travel alone home, being within a short distance of the house, fearing her father might suspect something seeing Charlie in her company. Her companion consented reluctantly to this proposition; and, bidding each other silent adieu, their eyes met in a long and affectionate gaze, which sent the warm blood over their handsome faces, infusing pleasant and strange sensations through their young hearts which before this moment they were strangers to, and which gave new life to their souls.
Charlie had hardly left when her father, with an anxious countenance came to meet her, chiding her for keeping breakfast so late; no one, not even Mary Grant knowing what had become of her.
Bella apologised with embarrassment, remarking that she had been tempted, through the fineness of the morning to extend her walk to the bridge, where she had accidentally met Charlie Stuart, who had been shooting ptarmigan in Ben Mor, and, knowing her partiality to the birds, he presented her with a brace, which she now exhibited to her father.
The daughter being a poor adept at dissembling, the practical eye of the parent detected some unconscious confusion in the manner of his usually unreserved child, especially when mentioning the name of Charlie Stuart, ​who before this she spoke of without the least embarrassment.
Another mystery which attracted his attention was the disarrangement of her hair and dress, particularly the before-mentioned rent in the bosom of her dress, which she endeavoured to hide by wrapping her plaid around her even in such warm weather. However, as she had not mentioned or made any remarks which might throw any light on the cause of his suspicions, and knowing her timidity and purity, he only replied, "Charlie is, indeed, always kind to you, and you ought to be very thankful to him." "Indeed he is, papa; my own brother George could not be more so," added his innocent daughter with such earnestness and enthusiasm which banished at once certain suspicions which for a moment took possession of him, and condemnatory to the unimpeachable character of his young neighbour. He, however, hinted to her never again to ramble about without her maid, for fear of causing the like anxiety.
Bella was glad when they arrived at the house, and quickly slipped up stairs to change her dress and arrange her hair, and in a few minutes she appeared at the breakfast table as if nothing had happened.
"Well Charlie, my boy; back already from Ben Mòr; and, as I live, the best shot in the country coming home empty handed! why I must really make a notch in the gate-post." Such had been the greeting which Charlie received from his father on approaching the house this morning, and which a little confused the young man, on his first time coming home, as his father had remarked, without game.
"I have been indeed almost unsuccessful father, the only game which fell to my lot was a brace of ptarmigan."
"Better than any my son, they are becoming a rarety these days, although I have seen them plentiful enough in Ben Mòr, let me have a look at the poor birds for the sake of old times."
"I am sorry that I am unable to satisfy your curiosity," replied Charlie, colouring, "As I was passing by the bridge, I happened to meet Bella McKay taking a walk, and as she seemed interested in my game, I presented them to her."
​"Quite right, my boy," replied the father, whose quick eye detected the confusion and blushing countenance of his son, when mentioning their fair neighbour's name, and longing for the union of both families in a closer tie than friendship. "Bella is indeed a treasure, and happy the young man who will posses such a prize for his wife. By-the-bye Charlie, don't you see a great change in her since you left for the University? Why, she will soon eclipse your fine Edinburgh ladies."
Charlie was not sorry to see an interruption to this panegyric, which, indeed, tallied with his own feelings, for Donald Munroe, his servant, whom he sent early to the post office made his appearance with a package of letters.
Mr. Stuart's exuberance was sadly damped, however by the news which the mail brought that morning, and the disappointment it conveyed to the excellent man weighed ever afterwards heavily on his mind. This was the downfall of his friend and chief, the proprietor whom he so much revered, and whom he never dreamed would be succeeded by an Englishman. The blow which he sustained, was, indeed, severe. His son's best prospects were for ever annihilated, and a noble clan of ancient standing were now deprived of their head. What a stroke to his hopes and expectations! Many a time he belied his far-sighted neighbour, Mr. McKays, prophecy—that their laird would bring himself to beggary. It was now but too true!
Charlie shared in his parent's disappointment, not solely for his own sake, having youth and vigour on his side; but knowing his father's nourished hopes regarding Charlie's own future prospects, and also his ancient clanish principles, and the total extinction of a long line of chieftains.
Among Charlie's correspondence was one epistle which partly dispelled the gloom his father's news had produced, and which brought smiles again to his countenance. The character of the writer may better be judged by inserting his communication, which ran as follows:—
"Glengarry.—My Dear Prince Charlie—Here I am safe and sound, having arrived last night, and determined to be beforehand with you in our correspondence, as I know you have hardly breathed your mountain air as yet.
​"Not wishing to bother you regarding the parental reception of their hopeful son and heir, I shall pass at once to the more interesting subject, namely, my sporting qualifications. Suffice it that I started early this morning with my Gillean, and made a successful stalking by bringing to earth five boomers, (your humble servant placing three to his credit,) which were got home in good time, skinned, and above all, distributed among the cotters, a point which I am very particular in executing on my annual visit among them.
"Your sober, steady-going fellows would think, of course, their day's sport over, but such is not my motto. To style it scientifically, I only considered this a preliminary arrangement to my future proceedings.
"Aware that great feasting would succeed my liberal supply of venison among the cotters, which would attract all their attention, leaving me a favourable field for the prosecution of my plans. I accordingly set to work with my little tiger Gunna Stailc—Popgun—a little brat of a foundling, who never, I believe, had any parents except fairies, and who had been reared up in our house. This little imp, whom I trained myself, being the veritable mortal fit for my purpose.
"I therefore opened my siege by reconnoitering Mairi Thormaid's dwelling, a sort of half-witch or walking chronicle, whose only profession is to gull the superstitious neighbours with fairy tales, and other terrible anecdotes, in return for which they supply her larder for the year.
"As no notice would be taken of Popgun by his going in or out among the boothies, I sent him to Mairi Thormaid's to report progress, and he soon came back with the favourable intelligence that Mary was in the middle of one of her fairy tales, which she was relating with her usual solemnity to two old crones of her own stamp; and, better than all, that a pot of venison was boiling over the fire, very likely for a feast.
"Furnishing myself in this instance with a hook and line, I ordered Popgun to re-enter the domicile, and under the pretence of warming himself at the fire, to look out for the hook, which I was to lower from the roof, and when an opportunity presented itself to fasten it in the venison, then make his exit unperceived.
"I was not long in gaining the low roof, and as there was no chimney, save a hole for the smoke, or farleus, I lowered my hook under the cover of the smoke, and Popgun was not long finding a chance to hook and make his exit, when I began to haul gradually.
"The effect may be anticipated. Mary had worked herself and listeners to the highest pitch of superstition, relating the powers of the fairies, when some commotion in the pot attracted their attention, and seeing the venison leaving its boiling element and ascending slowly towards the roof, the paralized crones gave one united scream, and in attempting to spring up from their low seats, held by each others skirts, tumbled over the stools on the ​floor in their hurry. Amidst this screeching and confusion I made my escape safely.
"The next on my list was attacking Alastair Gealtair—Alexr. the coward—nick-named so by his aversion to fire-arms or their reports. It was said of him when young and joining the militia, that he fell as if dead on the first platoon, and ever since he cannot bear a shot fired near him.
"On reconnoitering his boothy, I peeped through an aperture in the window, which was partly filled up with old clothes, and beheld to my satisfaction old Alastair directly opposite, and in the act of discussing a steaming dish of venison. His brawny sunburnt chest, as usual bare, and his better-half taking her seat at the end of the table. I supplied, or armed myself in this instance with an old blunderbuss, selected from the Governor's ancient armoury, and loaded with powder and a fresh piece of deer's liver. Resting my ordnance in the aperture, I took a deliberate aim at the exposed and expansive target, the freckled and carbuncled chest before me, and blazed away. You may guess the effect. The old Gealtair fell back with a terrible groan, exclaiming in Gaelic—'Trocair air manam!'—Mercy on my soul! When the smoke had cleared away a little, I beheld him lying on his back, on the bed where he had been sitting, as if dead, the liver spattered over his bare chest, and the old wife lamenting over him, wringing her hands and exclaiming—'Tha fuil a chri mach!' His heart's blood is out! Knowing well that the neighbours would soon be attracted to the scene of battle through her wailing, and that the old fellow was scatheless, save the fright, I withdrew my forces, and beat a hasty retreat to my garrison, where I am now penning my exploits, and which, you must confess, were brilliant, particularly my last sortie. Give us an account of your proceedings, and I shall report progress in return. Yours truly, John MacDonell,
Alias Iain Lom."
The author of this strange production was a young man of the MacDonells, of Glengarry, and a fellow collegian of Charlie's. Although their dispositions differed very much, a close friendship sprung up between them at the University. John, although the most mischievous young Highland gentleman that ever breathed, was a good-hearted fellow at the bottom. His extraordinary inventive mind, and his expertness in personating others, in disguising his person and voice, astonished every one.
He was never easy but when playing some mischievous trick on some unfortunate dupe, and his witticism and satire gained for him the sobriquet of Iain Lom, the name of an ancient bard. However, as some of his pranks will come before the reader at intervals through this tale we shall not comment further on his character.