Scenes and legends of the north of Scotland : $b or, The traditional history of Cromarty — John Stuart Mill — John Shaqi
Scenes and legends of the north of Scotland : $b or, The traditional history of Cromarty
John Stuart Mill · en
years younger than herself, and it surely could not be forgotten that
he herded her father’s cattle. The incident, however, which I am just
going to relate, gave her sufficient cause to think of him as a lover.
The Halloween of the year 1560 was a very different thing in the parish
of Cromarty from that of the year 1829. It is now as dark and opaque
a night--unless it chance to be brightened by the moon--as any in the
winter season; it was then clear as the glass of a magician;--people
looked through it and saw the future. Late in October that year,
Alaster overheard his mistress and one of her youthful companions--the
daughter of a neighbouring farmer--talking over the rites of the
coming night of frolic and prediction. “Will you really venture on
throwing the clue?” asked her companion; “the kiln, you ken, is dark
and lonely; and there’s mony a story no true if folk havena often been
frightened.” “Throw it?--oh, surely!” replied the other; “who would
think it worth while to harm the like o’ me? and, besides, you can bide
for me just a wee bittie aff. One would like, somehow, to know the name
o’ one’s gudeman, or whether one is to get a gudeman at all.” Alaster
was a lover, and lovers are fertile in stratagem. In the presence of
his mistress he sought leave from the old man, her father, with whom
he was much a favourite, to spend his Halloween at a cottage on a
neighbouring farm, where there were several young people to meet; and
his request was readily granted. The long-expected evening came; and
Alaster set out for the cottage, without any intention of reaching it
for at least two hours. When he had proceeded a little way he turned
back, crept warily towards the kiln, climbed like a wild-cat up the
rough circular gable, entered by the chimney, and in a few seconds
was snugly seated amid the ashes of the furnace. There he waited for
a full hour, listening to the beatings of his own heart. At length a
light footstep was heard approaching; the key was applied to the lock,
and as the door opened, a square patch of moonshine fell upon the rude
wall of the kiln. A tall figure stepped timidly forward, and stood in
the stream of faint light. It was Alaster’s young mistress. She looked
fearfully round her, and then producing a small clue of yarn, she threw
it towards Alaster, and immediately began to wind.[5] He suffered it
to turn round and round among the ashes, and then cautiously laid
hold of it. “Wha hauds?” said his mistress in a low startled whisper,
looking as she spoke, over her shoulder towards the door; “Alaster
Macculloch,” was the reply; and in a moment she had vanished like a
spectre. Soon after, the tread of two persons was heard approaching the
door. It was now Alaster’s turn to tremble. “Ah!” he thought, “I shall
be discovered, and my stratagem come to worse than nothing.” “An’ did
ye hear onything when you came out yon gate?” said one of the persons
without. “Oh, naething, lass, naething!” replied the other, in a voice