Salute to Adventurers | Page 3

cavalier could have bettered.
"My dear and only love, I pray That little world of thee Be governed by
no other sway Than purest monarchy."
"For if confusion have a part, Which virtuous souls abhor, And hold a
synod in thy heart, I'll never love thee more."
So she sang, like youth daring fortune to give it aught but the best. The
thing thrilled me, so that I stood gaping. Then she looked aside and saw
me.
"Your business, man?" she cried, with an imperious voice.
I took off my bonnet, and made an awkward bow.
"Madam, I am on my way to Edinburgh," I stammered, for I was
mortally ill at ease with women. "I am uncertain of the road in this
weather, and come to beg direction."
"You left the road three miles back," she said.
"But I am for crossing the moors," I said.
She pushed back her hood and looked at me with laughing eyes, I saw
how dark those eyes were, and how raven black her wandering curls of
hair.
"You have come to the right place," she cried. "I can direct you as well
as any Jock or Sandy about the town. Where are you going to?"

I said Kirknewton for my night's lodging.
"Then march to the right, up by yon planting, till you come to the Howe
Burn. Follow it to the top, and cross the hill above its well-head. The
wind is blowing from the east, so keep it on your right cheek. That will
bring you to the springs of the Leith Water, and in an hour or two from
there you will be back on the highroad."
She used a manner of speech foreign to our parts, but very soft and
pleasant in the ear. I thanked her, clapped on my dripping bonnet, and
made for the dykes beyond the garden. Once I looked back, but she had
no further interest in me. In the mist I could see her peering once more
skyward, and through the drone of the deluge came an echo of her
song.
"I'll serve thee in such noble ways, As never man before; I'll deck and
crown thy head with bays, And love thee more and more."
The encounter cheered me greatly, and lifted the depression which the
eternal drizzle had settled on my spirits. That bold girl singing a martial
ballad to the storm and taking pleasure in the snellness of the air, was
like a rousing summons or a cup of heady wine. The picture ravished
my fancy. The proud dark eye, the little wanton curls peeping from the
hood, the whole figure alert with youth and life--they cheered my
recollection as I trod that sour moorland. I tried to remember her song,
and hummed it assiduously till I got some kind of version, which I
shouted in my tuneless voice. For I was only a young lad, and my life
had been bleak and barren. Small wonder that the call of youth set
every fibre of me a-quiver.
I had done better to think of the road. I found the Howe Burn readily
enough, and scrambled up its mossy bottom. By this time the day was
wearing late, and the mist was deepening into the darker shades of
night. It is an eery business to be out on the hills at such a season, for
they are deathly quiet except for the lashing of the storm. You will
never hear a bird cry or a sheep bleat or a weasel scream. The only
sound is the drum of the rain on the peat or its plash on a boulder, and
the low surge of the swelling streams. It is the place and time for dark

deeds, for the heart grows savage; and if two enemies met in the hollow
of the mist only one would go away.
I climbed the hill above the Howe burn-head, keeping the wind on my
right cheek as the girl had ordered. That took me along a rough ridge of
mountain pitted with peat-bogs into which I often stumbled. Every
minute I expected to descend and find the young Water of Leith, but if I
held to my directions I must still mount. I see now that the wind must
have veered to the south-east, and that my plan was leading me into the
fastnesses of the hills; but I would have wandered for weeks sooner
than disobey the word of the girl who sang in the rain. Presently I was
on a steep hill-side, which I ascended only to drop through a tangle of
screes and jumper to the mires of a great bog. When I had crossed this
more by luck than good guidance, I had another scramble on the steeps
where the long, tough heather