"I suppose, sir, we shall run to Vissarion?"
"Run to the devil, if you like!" was his reply, as he turned away. When we arrived in the creek at Vissarion, he seemed much milder--less aggressive in his manner; but when he heard that you were detained at Plazac, he got rather "fresh"--I use the American term--again. I greatly feared there would be a serious misfortune before we got into the Castle, for on the dock was Julia, the wife of Michael, the Master of the Wine, who is, as you know, very beautiful. Mr. Melton seemed much taken with her; and she, being flattered by the attention of a strange gentleman and Your Honour's kinsman, put aside the stand-offishness of most of the Blue Mountain women. Whereupon Mr. Melton, forgetting himself, took her in his arms and kissed her. Instantly there was a hubbub. The mountaineers present drew their handjars, and almost on the instant sudden death appeared to be amongst us. Happily the men waited as Michael, who had just arrived on the quay-wall as the outrage took place, ran forward, wheeling his handjar round his head, and manifestly intending to decapitate Mr. Melton. On the instant--I am sorry to say it, for it created a terribly bad effect--Mr. Melton dropped on his knees in a state of panic. There was just this good use in it--that there was a pause of a few seconds. During that time the little Cockney valet, who has the heart of a man in him, literally burst his way forward, and stood in front of his master in boxing attitude, calling out:
"'Ere, come on, the 'ole lot of ye! 'E ain't done no 'arm. He honly kissed the gal, as any man would. If ye want to cut off somebody's 'ed, cut off mine. I ain't afride!" There was such genuine pluck in this, and it formed so fine a contrast to the other's craven attitude (forgive me, Your Honour; but you want the truth!), that I was glad he was an Englishman, too. The mountaineers recognized his spirit, an
d saluted with their handjars, even Michael amongst the number. Half turning his head, the little man said in a fierce whisper:
"Buck up, guv'nor! Get up, or they'll slice ye! 'Ere's Mr. Rooke; 'e'll see ye through it."
By this time the men were amenable to reason, and when I reminded them that Mr. Melton was Your Honour's cousin, they put aside their handjars and went about their work. I asked Mr. Melton to follow, and led the way to the Castle.
When we got close to the great entrance within the walled courtyard, we found a large number of the servants gathered, and with them many of the mountaineers, who have kept an organized guard all round the Castle ever since the abducting of the Voivodin. As both Your Honour and the Voivode were away at Plazac, the guard had for the time been doubled. When the steward came and stood in the doorway, the servants stood off somewhat, and the mountaineers drew back to the farther sides and angles of the courtyard. The Voivodin had, of course, been informed of the guest's (your cousin) coming, and came to meet him in the old custom of the Blue Mountains. As Your Honour only came to the Blue Mountains recently, and as no occasion has been since then of illustrating the custom since the Voivode was away, and the Voivodin then believed to be dead, perhaps I, who have lived here so long, may explain:
When to an old Blue Mountain house a guest comes whom it is wished to do honour, the Lady, as in the vernacular the mistress of the house is called, comes herself to meet the guest at the door--or, rather, _outside_ the door--so that she can herself conduct him within. It is a pretty ceremony, and it is said that of old in kingly days the monarch always set much store by it. The custom is that, when she approaches the honoured guest (he need not be royal), she bends--or more properly kneels--before him and kisses his hand. It has been explained by historians that the symbolism is that the woman, showing obedience to her husband, as the married woman of the Blue Mountains always does, emphasizes that obedience to her husband's guest. The custom is always observed in its largest formality when a young wife receives for the first time a guest, and especially one whom her husband wishes to honour. The Voivodin was, of course, aware that Mr. Melton was your kinsman, and naturally wished to make the ceremony of honour as marked as possible, so as to show overtly her sense of her husband's worth.
When we came into the courtyard, I held back, of course, for the honour is entirely individual, and is never extended to any other, no matter how worthy he may be. Naturally Mr. Melton did not know the etiquette of the situation, and so for that is not to be blamed. He took his valet with him when, seeing someone coming to the door, he went forward. I thought he was going to rush to his welcomer. Such, though not in the ritual, would have been natural in a young kinsman wishing to do honour to the bride of his host, and would to anyone have been both understandable and forgivable. It did not occur to me at the time, but I have since thought that perhaps he had not then heard of Your Honour's marriage, which I trust you will, in justice to the young gentleman, bear in mind when considering the matter. Unhappily, however, he did not show any such eagerness. On the contrary, he seemed to make a point of showing indifference. It seemed to me myself that he, seeing somebody wishing to make much of him, took what he considered a safe opportunity of restoring to himself his own good opinion, which must have been considerably lowered in the episode of the Wine Master's wife.
The Voivodin, thinking, doubtless, Your Honour, to add a fresh lustre to her welcome, had donned the costume which all her nation has now come to love and to accept as a dress of ceremonial honour. She wore her shroud. It moved the hearts of all of us who looked on to see it, and we appreciated its being worn for such a cause. But Mr. Melton did not seem to care. As he had been approaching she had begun to kneel, and was already on her knees whilst he was several yards away. There he stopped and turned to speak to his valet, put a glass in his eye, and looked all round him and up and down--indeed, everywhere except at the Great Lady, who was on her knees before him, waiting to bid him welcome. I could see in the eyes of such of the mountaineers as were within my range of vision a growing animosity; so, hoping to keep down any such expression, which I knew would cause harm to Your Honour and the Voivodin, I looked all round them straight in their faces with a fixed frown, which, indeed, they seemed to understand, for they regained, and for the time maintained, their usual dignified calm. The Voivodin, may I say, bore the trial wonderfully. No human being could see that she was in any degree pained or even surprised. Mr. Melton stood looking round him so long that I had full time to regain my own attitude of calm. At last he seemed to come back to the knowledge that someone was waiting for him, and sauntered leisurely forward. There was so much insolence--mind you, not insolence that was intended to appear as such--in his movement that the mountaineers began to steal forward. When he was close up to the Voivodin, and she put out her hand to take his, he put forward _one finger_! I could hear the intake of the breath of the men, now close around, for I had moved forward, too. I thought it would be as well to be close to your guest, lest something should happen to him. The Voivodin still kept her splendid self-control. Raising the finger put forward by the guest with the same deference as though it had been the hand of a King, she bent her head down and kissed it. Her duty of courtesy now done, she was preparing to rise, when he put his hand into his pocket, and, pulling out a sovereign, offered it to her. His valet moved his hand forward, as if to pull back his arm, but it was too late. I am sure, Your Honour, that no affront was intended. He doubtless thought that he was doing a kindness of the sort usual in England when one "tips" a housekeeper. But all the same, to one in her position, it was an affront, an insult, open and unmistakable. So it was received by the mountaineers, whose handjars flashed out as one. For a second it was so received even by the Voivodin, who, with face flushing scarlet, and the stars in her eves flaming red, sprang to her feet. But in that second she had regained herself, and to all appearances her righteous anger passed away. Stooping, she took the hand of her guest and raised it--you know how strong she is--and, holding it in hers, led him into the doorway, saying:
"You are welcome, kinsman of my husband, to the house of my father, which is presently my husband's also. Both are grieved that, duty having called them away for the time, they are unable to be here to help me to greet you."
I tell you, Your Honour, that it was a lesson in self-respect which anyone who saw it can never forget. As to me, it makes my flesh quiver, old as I am, with delight, and my heart leap.
May I, as a faithful servant who has had many years of experience, suggest that Your Honour should seem--for the present, at any rate--not to know any of these things which I have reported, as you wished me to do. Be sure that the Voivodin will tell you her gracious self aught that she would wish you to know. And such reticence on your part must make for her happiness, even if it did not for your own.
So that you may know all, as you desired, and that you may have time to school yourself to whatever attitude you think best to adopt, I send this off to you at once by fleet messenger. Were the aeroplane here, I should take it myself. I leave here shortly to await the arrival of Sir Colin at Otranto.
Your Honour's faithful servant, ROOKE.
JANET MACKELPIE'S NOTES.
_August_ 9, 1907.
To me it seems very providential that Rupert was not at home when thatdreadful young man Ernest Melton arrived, though it is possible that ifRupert had been present he would not have dared to conduct himself sobadly. Of course, I heard all about it from the maids; Teuta neveropened her lips to me on the subject. It was bad enough and stupidenough for him to try to kiss a decent young woman like Julia, who isreally as good as gold and as modest as one of our own Highland lassies;but to think of him insulting Teuta! The little beast! One would thinkthat a champion idiot out of an Equatorial asylum would know better! IfMichael, the Wine Master, wanted to kill him, I wonder what my Rupert andhers would have done? I am truly thankful that he was not present. AndI am thankful, too, that I was not present either, for I should have madean exhibition of myself, and Rupert would not have liked that. He--thelittle beast! might have seen from the very dress that the dear girl worethat there was something exceptional about her. But on one account Ishould have liked to see her. They tell me that she was, in her truedignity, like a Queen, and that her humility in receiving her husband'skinsman was a lesson to every woman in the Land. I must be careful notto let Rupert know that I have heard of the incident. Later on, when itis all blown over and the young man has been got safely away, I shalltell him of it. Mr. Rooke--Lord High Admiral Rooke, I should say--mustbe a really wonderful man to have so held himself in check; for, fromwhat I have heard of him, he must in his younger days have been worsethan Old Morgan of Panama. Mr. Ernest Roger Halbard Melton, of Humcroft,Salop, little knows how near he was to being "cleft to the chine" also.
Fortunately, I had heard of his meeting with Teuta before he came to seeme, for I did not get back from my walk till after he had arrived.Teuta's noble example was before me, and I determined that I, too, wouldshow good manners under any circumstances. But I didn't know how mean heis. Think of his saying to me that Rupert's position here must be agreat source of pride to me, who had been his nursery governess. He said"nursemaid" first, but then stumbled in his words, seeming to remembersomething. I did not turn a hair, I am glad to say. It is a mercy UncleColin was not here, for I honestly believe that, if he had been, he wouldhave done the "cleaving to the chine" himself. It has been a narrowescape for Master Ernest, for only this morning Rupert had a message,sent on from Gibraltar, saying that he was arriving with his clansmen,and that they would not be far behind his letter. He would call atOtranto in case someone should come across to pilot him to Vissarion.Uncle told me all about that young cad having offered him one finger inMr. Trent's office, though, of course, he didn't let the cad see that henoticed it. I have no doubt that, when he does arrive, that young man,if he is here still, will find that he will have to behave himself, if itbe only on Sir Colin's account alone.
THE SAME (LATER).
I had hardly finished writing when the lookout on the tower announcedthat the _Teuta_, as Rupert calls his aeroplane, was sighted crossing themountains from Plazac. I hurried up to see him arrive, for I had not asyet seen him on his "aero." Mr. Ernest Melton came up, too. Teuta was,of course, before any of us. She seems to know by instinct when Rupertis coming.
It was certainly a wonderful sight to see the little aeroplane, withoutspread wings like a bird in flight, come sailing high over themountains. There was a head-wind, and they were beating against it;otherwise we should not have had time to get to the tower before thearrival.
When once the "aero" had begun to drop on the near side of the mountains,however, and had got a measure of shelter from them, her pace wasextraordinary. We could not tell, of course, what sort of pace she cameat from looking at herself. But we gathered some idea from the rate atwhich the mountains and hills seemed to slide away from under her. Whenshe got over the foot-hills, which are about ten miles away, she came onat a swift glide that seemed to throw the distance behind her. Whenquite close, she rose up a little till she was something higher than theTower, to which she came as straight as an arrow from the bow, and glidedto her moorings, stopping dead as Rupert pulled a lever, which seemed toturn a barrier to the wind. The Voivode sat beside Rupert, but I mustsay that he seemed to hold on to the bar in front of him even more firmlythan Rupert held to his steering-gear.
When they had alighted, Rupert greeted his cousin with the utmostkindness, and bade him welcome to Vissarion.
"I see," he said, "you have met Teuta. Now you may congratulate me, ifyou wish."
Mr. Melton made a long rodomontade about her beauty, but presently,stumbling about in his speech, said something regarding it being unluckyto appear in grave-clothes. Rupert laughed, and clapped him on theshoulder as he answered:
"That pattern of frock is likely to become a national dress for loyalwomen of the Blue Mountains. When you know something of what that dressmeans to us all at present you will understand. In the meantime, take itthat there is not a soul in the nation that does not love it and honourher for wearing it." To which the cad replied:
"Oh, indeed! I thought it was some preparation for a fancy-dress ball."Rupert's comment on this ill-natured speech was (for him) quite grumpilygiven:
"I should not advise you to think such things whilst you are in this partof the world, Ernest. They bury men here for much less."
The cad seemed struck with something--either what Rupert had said or hismanner of saying it--for he was silent for several seconds before hespoke.