SHORT STORIES.

Otago Witness, Issue 2929, 4 May 1910, Page 89

SHORT STORIES.

[All Rights Reserved.] DONALD~MACKAY. By Charles Oscar Palmer. The height of his forehead was hidden by a shaggy mass of grizzled hair and the dourness of his firm-set mouth by his silvered -whiskers. The poetic in his nature, however, was relieved by the humorous twinkle in his blue eyes, that betrayed his pawkiness. The young fellows at the Port Hotel knew nothing further than the fact that his "dialect" was Scottish, and this loosed their tongues. . Stranded for a time at the port waiting the departure of the steam-packet for the coastal township, he waited with what patience he could command. Beyond the heads the sea was dark and rough, and the nights at the hill-locked port were boisterous. He sat in the crowded room with the young fellows who implied that they knew so much. This, evening their talk turned to the master passion, and each in turn related his loves, but Donald Mackay was reticent. When pressed, he only grunted, shrugged his broad shoulders, and moved nearer to the far corner. "Tonald's love has been for the bawbee and the saxpence —let him bide," so said he of the large soft mouth .and restless eyes who had just been telling how he had "bore up to a beauty" in every port where the Glasgow Girl had touched on her last trip. Donald Mackay grunted again, and closed his mouth more firmly on the amber mouthpiece of his meerchaum. Still they pressed him, until Donald exclaimed, "Ye're gey lads, awfu saft i' the.heads and loose i' the moorals," and with that he rose and left the stuffy room. Boisterous laughter followed Donald's supposed discomfiture as far as the concrete pavement. There the cold wind was on his face, and as he paced to and fro his heart went back to the early days and the old home among the hills. Then to the brief time at the old schoolhouse, whei'e many who came to learn were young men and women. There in the shade of the ngaio and mahoe they boiled v their billies and made the mid-day meal a picnic. It was there that he first loved Jessie Robb, but in silence and alone. He heard the big, fleshy, highly-scented "Mashern" brag of his love for her with stoical sublimity. He saw with great composure little " Spitfire," who had made desperate love to Polly, Clara, Bessie, and Jane in turn, punch the head of the "Gander" for daring to insinuate his claim to Jessie's affection. He chuckled when the " Dodger " brought her ripe apples and the "Squatter" saddled her mare for her and rode home beside her. "She has sweetness enough and to spare, though I ken she'll love mair than she'll win fra' ye a'," was all he was heard to say. But murder will out, and so will love. Young "Spitfire" had lately had the cold shoulder from Jessie, and took the occasion to belittle her. Donald's blood was up, and the boys met behind the tutu and flax that formed their arena. The elder girls guessed that something serious was pending, and burst upon them to find the "Spitfire" with white face and dirty shirt-front, and Donald, amis akimbo, ejaculating, "She's a soor-faced flairt, is she? -Stan' up and tak' yer punishment, will ye." The "Spitfire" was sobered for quite a week. It was only a day or two later when the "Squatter" declared in public that he had proposed to Jessie and been acepted. "I'd gi'e the lassie credit for mair sense," said Donald, and the listeners chorussed, "Oh, the cannie Scot thinks he'll get the lassie's savings"—but nothing came of the "Squatter's" engagement save that Jessie kept shy of him on her way from school. Those school days, few, but life-long in their influence, had ended, and the young people met but seldom. At church, where

Donald's deep bass voice was heard in the "Old Hundred" and "The Lord's my Shepherd," while Jessie worked the old organ with all the vigour that it would (Endure, the young people yearned to each other. The evenings were far between .•when Donald "dropped in" for a chat, and he generally encountered visitors unore fluent than himself with her family. It was not until the break up of a series of winter dances that the young people liad the fortune of each other's company ,to themselves. Donald, often a walli flower, had watched Miss Jessie .up for dance after dance. At last, missing her jtfrom the scene of life, he resolved to ■get home. He had not walked far when lie noticed a slight figure in the roadway liefore him. ; - "Ye wouldn? mind me seeing ye hame, Miss Jessie?" '•'Not in the least, Donald. I promised Brother that I would be in early. Donald's broadness, that had partly worn off with his contact with young colonials, came over him again on such an occasion, and he lapsed into the old dialect. "Ye gie me a pleasure I didna expect." The moon broke from the filmy haze and shone full and clear on the mountain Bummits, on their dark-forested flanks, and plunged the deeper gorges into shadow. , A glory was on the dewy grass, the tender-foliaged willows and poplars -and the far-spread sea beyond. The fragrance of the night was as incense to his long-pent-up passion, and her presence was an inspiration. He moved in a place exalted, apart. Oh ! Jessie was almost too precious to tread the same rough road as he. He did not notice the quiet, assuring smile about her ripe mouth and the sympathetic light in her dark eyes. "'.Ye are very kind the night, lassie, and as I ha'e the chance I'll e'en tell ye J ha'e waited it these weeks and months. There is laughter i' the sunlight, beauty on every ban', gladness wi' the birdies and wee lambies, because o' ye. i rise ibefore the lark and linger, wi' the stars, and canna' tak' my meat because o' ye. Ither lassies are cauld and lifeless, but there is lightness i' yer tread, grace i'yer figure, beauty i' yer face, light i' yer e'e, and music i' yer voice. I lo'e ye, Jessie, but I'm nae sae weak as tae asl love's return —it is a joy tae lo'e ye. I am delighted tae breathe the air that touches yer mou', and am blessed when I look toward the hothie where ye bide." Somehow, while he spoke, her hand had stolen into his, and ' answered to his. ardency with a soft, warm pressure that could not be mistaken. Why should we intrude further on this privacy of lovers? ■Suffice it that when they came to the little front gate there was quite a lengthy conference. As Donald slowly .returned homeward there ran over and over in his mind her parting words—"l do love you, Donald—l always did, even while the old schoolboys were so attentive to me."

The courting days only began with their ■engagement, for times were hard, and Donald's work took him away among the mountains foi weeks or even but as often as he returned he rode beside Jessie to the little country church. Then 'lie wheezy old organ came nearer to a final burst up as the grand old psalms were played and sung. At last came the quiet wedding, when the only piece of jewellery given and accepted was a plain gold ring. Love, with its hopes and fears, sanctified another lowly, hearth—has done so for over 30 years, for is not Donald a, grandfather now? Yet still the ardent Ipver of the sweetheart of his old schooldays, he chafes at enforced delay at this seaport. He longs to be back with the dear wife who awaits his return. He was twitted by the young fellows for his stinginess and coldness, but the love of a lifetime will sanctify his. evening time cf quiet devotion to wife and family. i