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It was Baird who held his hand, not he Baird's, and it was Baird who seemed to speak while he listened, while with his free hand he touched the hair of the child Annie. "Well," remarked Mrs. Stornaway, "Mr. Baird seems to have taken a fancy to him. I don't think he's attractive myself. Are they going to talk to him all day?" "No," said Miss Amory, "he is going now." He was going.
All the modest members of the choir quailed and quavered before her, while even the bold ones, meeting her eye when engaged in worldly conversation between their musical efforts, momentarily lost their interest and involuntarily straightened themselves. Towards her family Mrs. Stornaway performed her duty with unflinching virtue.
He dined with the Stornaways that day, and when he entered the parlour the first figure his eyes fell upon was that of Agnes Stornaway, dressed in white muslin, with white roses in her belt. She was a tall girl, with a willowy figure and a colourless fairness of skin, but when her mother called her to her side and Baird touched her hand, she blushed in such a manner that Mrs.
Stornaway was a little astonished. Scarcely a year afterward she became Mrs. Baird, and people said she was a very fortunate girl, which was possibly true. Her husband did not share the fate of most ministers who had presided over Mrs. Stornaway's church. His power over his congregation increased every year.
Next morning we rode out to breakfast with a very worthy man, Mr Stornaway, the overseer of Mount Olive estate, in the neighbourhood of which there were several natural curiosities to be seen. Although the extent of our party startled him a good deal, he received us most hospitably.
Had he not mingled in that wild life which, without moral lamp-posts, allures all the more because of a certain flavoring spice of deviltry? Every farmer's son in Marsden, Gould, Stornaway, and Lake Megantic, envied Donald that easy swaggering air, that frank, perhaps defiant outlook, which the girls secretly adored. Is it the village maiden alone who confesses to a secret charm in dare-devilism?
When he had become engaged to Agnes Stornaway, she had watched him and secretly wondered how the engagement would end; when it had ended in marriage she had not wondered, but she had seen many things other people did not see. "He is not in love with her," had been her mental decision, "but he is emotional, and he is in love with her being in love with him.
"What did the girl die of?" asked Mrs. Downing. "What?" repeated Baird. "The girl? I don't know." "And where did she die?" added Mrs. Downing. "I was just saying," put in Mrs. Stornaway, "that you had such a sympathetic way of drawing people out that I was sure he had told you the whole story." "There was not much story," Baird answered, "and it was too sad to talk over.
This seems as if nothing were a security for matrimonial comfort. I have not so much to say for my friend Flora, who jilted a very nice young man in the Blues for the sake of that horrid Lord Stornaway, who has about as much sense, Fanny, as Mr. Rushworth, but much worse-looking, and with a blackguard character.
Here I had the satisfaction of finding the schooner already arrived, and of being joined by the Doctor, just returned from his fruitless expedition to Holyhead. Stornaway, Island of Lewis, Hebrides, June 9, 1856. We reached these Islands of the West the day before yesterday, after a fine run from Oban.
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