THE RURAL NEW-YORKER 
64 
II 
I I 
JEANIE ! 
Who can cheerful words impart 
To cheer the faint an' Buffering heart, 
When stricken by misfortune’s dart ? 
J&anio! 
Who has curls of auburn hue, 
Olnst'rinif o’er a snow-white broo, 
ltosy cheeks an’ cherry mou’ I 
Jennie t 
Who has thrifty, nimble fingers, 
A tongue whereon sweet music lingers. 
And voice the sweetest of sweet singers’ f 
•Jennie ! 
"Who has modesty and grace. 
Needs not the aid of gaudy laee 
To match the queen of beauty’s race ? 
.Jeauie! 
Who has vowed through life to go, 
And share with mo its weal or woe, 
Be my pedigree high or low ? 
Jeanie! 
PAULINE.--PART I. 
CHAPTER I. 
A Caelic Congregation. 
“Setnniah sitm churn cliu agua gloire Dhe—” 
Such were ttto words which, HtartUug In their 
effect and portentlous In their significance, broke 
upon the ear of Pauline as she entered the parish 
church, after a walk of three miles In length, 
under the noonday rays of an August sun. 
Enigmatical as was the sentence, Its Immediate 
effect was only too apparent. 
Every' collie present cocked his eye, leered at 
his master, aud straightway composed himself to 
sleep. 
The master’s face was mlnlsterwards; It was 
serious, and devoutly attentive. In his hand lay 
the family Psalm-book, ami the unaccustomed 
thumb was being prepared—how, we need not 
specify—for its weekly duty of turning over the 
leaves. The service had begun. 
What was Pauline to do ? 
The dour had groaned and dosed behind her, 
the atmosphere was that of the Innermost recess 
of a range of hot-houses, and there was two hours’ 
endurance of It. in prospect. 
Well might her spLrlt sink. 
The collies could understand Gaelic, though 
they might, not follow a sermon —she could not 
Interpret a word £ The dusty rays of a burning 
sun were grateful to their panting frames —she 
was suffocating! Koch or them bad his own ap¬ 
pointed place —she was a stranger I In every way 
she was worse off than a dog! 
How tired the poor girl felt I llow hot, how dis¬ 
appointed, how cross! 
The bare contemplation of that two hours’ mar¬ 
tyrdom mode her shudder, and prompted the des¬ 
perate suggestion that she might, oven at tiffs 
pass, escape. The objector her journey was lust, 
the expedition had proved u failure; but. her 
heart rebelled against so great it punishment. 
Could she by any means avert It T Date she 
draw ou hersclt the eyesot all those bowed heads, 
with the Chance, too, of a suap at her heels from 
some canine bigot, set to guard the door—or, more 
terrible still, a sudden cessation of those disson¬ 
ant sounds In the pulpit? 
Courage said “Yes;" Fear said “No;" and 
Fear had It. 
She must endure to the end, put on, perforce, 
the outward garb of decent attention, patiently 
await—Ah! with a wild, weird, rasping cry, the 
sweet Psalm of David uprose. 
Pauline shuddered from head to foot. 
Mentally, at that hour, she listened to the 
peal of cathedral chimes, and the mellow chant 
of white-robed choristers, and—measured Lhe dis¬ 
tance between her seat and t he door. 
A pause, another rapid jangle of incomprehen¬ 
sible phrases, a distraction of the worshippers, 
and the stranger had down; she stood once more 
In the sweet, fresh, fragrant air outside. 
With a long-drawn breath of relief, Pauline 
stopped for a minute to gaze on the scene around 
her. 
Abroad stretch of blue water lay at her feet, 
calm as glass, and to all appearance motionless, 
yet every minute laying bare more and more of 
the rocky tangle which overspread the beach, In¬ 
terspersed with shallow bays of smooth aud glis¬ 
tening sand. 
Thin fringes of birch and alder t rees skirted the 
shore, and overhung the broad white road which 
encircled the Island. Sloping backwards from 
these, and with gradually Increasing monotony, 
dreary wastes of moor, bog, and ravine carried 
the eye up to the ptraarlgan-haunted peaks above. 
Towards this prospect Pauline cared not to look. 
Her eyes were fixed on the pate, dlmly-deflned 
horizon; on the tiny islets which seemed to dis¬ 
dain and shrink from the water on which they 
rested, so carefully did they draw back their 
pointed headlands from contact with It; and on a 
large cutter yacht, which had cast anchor In the 
bay the night before, and which as it lay broad¬ 
side, showing every spar aud rope reflected, might 
have offered a prominent object for a painter’s 
pencil. 
She had watched the white sail of the vessel as 
It passed Gourloch on the evening before, and 
mourned its loss in the panorama which the sun, 
setting, spread nightly before their eyes. The 
white wing had been folded Just as the heavens 
were light! ug up, and It was folded still. 
Not a sound came from the sea, and the strange 
discordant music within the little building, alone 
broke the silence over the land. 
Now must Pauline gat her up her courage, and 
take to the road again. 
There It lay, glaring in the tierce, noonday heat, 
sheltered only here and t here by the birches, and 
displaying Itself In tlie distance In a barefaced 
extent of more than a mile in length, over a hill¬ 
side, empty even of the shadow of a roek. 
Pauline sighed. This was, In plain terms, more 
than she had bargained ror. 
\V hen, against the persuasions of her relations 
at Gourloch, she had made her way to the little 
Highland church, sho had been supported by a 
feel Ingot satisfaction, complacency, self-approval, 
If you will, and her aunt bad pleaded In vain. 
“My dear, be persuaded, it rarely happens 
that our own service Is put off, and for once we 
can read our own Bibles at home. Much a long 
walk in tiffs weather, and it Is not our own church 
either I" murmured the lady, feeling a little 
ashamed of using such an argument. 
“ I suppose It la much the same, auntie; I never 
can distinguish between them,,’ 
“You have not studied the subject., my dear. 
But, however, that Is not my real reason for wish¬ 
ing you to give It Up. It is not lit for you to walk 
so far. Elsie lias gone down to the shore and 
taken her books with her. Como, let me find you 
something to read out. or t he library.” 
“Thanks, dear auntie, but. I should like to go.’’ 
“ You know, ray love, how gladly I would send 
you If I could, although It Is not our way to have 
the horses out on Sundays; but, really the gray Is 
too lame to be used to-day.” 
“ I always walk, thank you; wo nevor think of 
driving at homo," 
Quietly and decidedly the stronger will had put 
aside the weaker, and If she rued It, the blame 
was her own. 
That “ SeinnWi trlnn chumcllu agus gloire Dhe" 
(Let us sing to the praise and glory of God), fell 
upon her ear like a knell. Nor was she, on reflec¬ 
tion, hotter satisfied with the hasty and precipi¬ 
tate withdrawal, which must have seemed to 
scorn the simple gathering. How could she do It? 
Mho had been dazed, bewildered. Mho was almost, 
lu her confusion, ready to re-enter. 
But no! It was too late. 
Aud then above and beyond llio obvious causes 
for discontent previously narrated, It was no easy 
matter for Pauline to own that she had been tn 
the wrong. 
She would have to own It now, easy or difficult 
—both wrong In going, and wrong in coming 
away ; she would have to walk In, dusty aud dis¬ 
heveled, two hours before she was expected, and 
make her hHinlllatlng confession. Her aunt would 
commiserate, and Elsie would rally her; of the 
two, she preferred the Idea of being laughed at, 
and decided that If her cousin had not (jultted the 
shore on her return, she would seek her out, and 
they could make their entree, together. 
With this there flashed a bright idea Into Pau¬ 
line’s bead. 
The tide was still on the ebb, the short cut 
across the rocks would be passable. The prospect 
of tiffs, with the sudden reaction of surprise and 
pleasure it Inspired, gave a til lip to her spirits, 
under which she sot, off. More than a mile could 
be saved by crossing the bay, and the long ridges 
of rook, matted with tangle, and thickly strewn 
With mussels, limpets, and other shellfish, afford¬ 
ed a tolerably secure footing. 
Soon she (infixed the road, and with light and 
active stops began to thread tbo mazes of the 
rocky territory. 
All went well for a time. 
True, she had frequently to retrace her path, 
and more than once narrowly esouped Immersion 
In a hidden pool. Occasionally, too, she found 
herself perched upon an apparently Inaccessible 
bight from which the descent was fraught with 
peril. 
still, with bare hands dinging to each project¬ 
ing point, and dainty toes feeling tremulously for 
security under treacherous seaweed—too often 
but. the veil of a pitfall-the advance continued. 
It grew worse and worse. Her limbs began to 
ache, her face was burning shelterless under the 
sun, for, alas! that last spring bad snapped the 
parasol In two, when she came to a full stop. 
“ Wlmtshall 1 do?’’ 
The poor wayfarer was tasting the experience 
common to explorers of shortcuts. 
It, would seem as If short cuts are haunted by 
false-hearted sprites, who delight In tormenting 
such us venture unwarily within their bourne. 
Try one across fields, and you find half-a-dozen 
hedges In your way, each backed by a dlt-eh and 
threaded by a wire. Follow an Innocent-looking 
toot path, as dtd Christian arid Hopeful la the al¬ 
legory of allegories, and if you are not lodged In 
the castle of Giant Despair, you are straightway 
landed In a farmyard deep In mire, from which 
you look In vain for exit. View all the plain be¬ 
fore you, and prepare to tramp It comfortably 
over a close-shaven, heather-burnt moor, and be¬ 
hold ! au artful swamp lurks concealed, with moss 
and bog-myrtle and cotton-bush flowering on its 
surface! 
Pauline, too far gone to retreat, came to the 
woful conclusion that another mistake had been 
committed. 
The rocks, which at first had been mere ridges 
easily traversed, now seemed actually to tower 
above her; the pools expanded Into miniature 
lakes, and intercepted her path at every turn; 
while both feet and hands were smarting from 
contact with the rough and Jagged surface. 
Suddenly she became aware that she was not 
alone. 
Leaning over a narrow strip of water which 
ran up between two ledges, was the figure of a 
man, so Intent upon gazing into the crystal pool, 
that he was apparently as unconscious of her 
presence as she had hitherto been of Ids. 
Ills hat was thrown off, and a suit of gray ren¬ 
dered Ids person so litt le distinguishable from the 
smooth snrface of stone on which he lay, that, 
had he not changed hl» attitude on Pauline's ap¬ 
proach. she might have been still nearer than 
she was, without, detecting anything unusual. 
She turned to escape, but her foot slipped, and 
down she went. 
The stranger started, drow himself up, and 
stared at the apparition. 
How had she come? What did she want? 
What, was she doing now ? 
An answer to the last Interrogation was self- 
evident. .She was helpless'v trying to steady 
herself on a stone which vibrated to every Incli¬ 
nation, her parasol protruded from a crevice 
many feeL below, and her long dress ptaeldly 
floated on a neighboring pool. Clearly sho was 
In need of assistance. 
“ Walt a moment; allow me to help you.” 
Sooth to say, Pauline had no choice but to wait. 
She was careless as to the fate of her parasol, and 
Ignorant of the misdemeanors of her robe, but to 
quit that, tottering pedestal, when one false step 
would precipitate lier Into a briny gulf, was more 
than she oared t.o attempt. 
Both hands clutched the rugged wall In front,; 
he advanced, arid one hand was unwillingly loos¬ 
ened and put In ids. 
“Take care! Not that one! This side! Ah!" 
She was In ! That, last exclamation was called 
forth by a stumble, a moment’s floundering on 
the slippery surface, and a splash. 
The next Instant he had seized her other hand, 
and, by main force, (lulled her up beside hlrn. 
“Thank you,” sahl poor Pauline, ruefully. 
Short of a desert, Island, there could hardly 
have been a more extraordinary and secluded 
spot, for two well-dressed, well-bred, a.id well¬ 
looking young people to bo Standing banrl-ln- 
hand, whose acqulnt.anco barely extended over a 
previous forty seconds or so. 
The man saw the Joke; the woman did not. 
The hand which he held responded to his clasp, 
with a fervor born of insecurity and fright; the 
other held ou by his arm. 
“Grips me like a vice,” thought ho. Aloud, “ I 
hope you are not hurt ?” 
“Oh, no —not much —thank you. The water 
Is quite warm." 
“Yourparasol Is In the hollow down there; 1 
had better fetch It.” 
“ Pray don’t. Don’t, mind. It Is of no conse¬ 
quence whatever.” 
“You will lose It; you will never find It again 
If 1 do not bring It now. It you Just stand still 
(or nun moment,, I will Jump down." 
Now, the mu lice of this suggestion consisted In 
the fact that to stand still was one of the last, 
feats the unlucky fair one was likely to accom¬ 
plish. The roek on which they stood was so cut 
j up into detached and knlfe-Ilke edges that,, even 
as she spoke, she swayed backwards and for¬ 
wards, pinching bis arm spasmodically with each 
oscillation, while every movement threatened an¬ 
other plunge. 
“ I shall take the opportunity to collar my hat,’’ 
reflected the young man, “it sho Is ever going to 
let go, t hat, is to say. Suppose you sit down for a 
moment?” to ids coinpaulon. 
As this proposal was accompanied by some as¬ 
sistance, It was feasible, and ho was free. 
A nd now, tor the first, time, It occurred to Pau¬ 
line to look at lire person with whom she was 
fraternizing. 
ah his back was towards her, she naturally 
contemplated It tlrst. A good back, broad-shoul¬ 
dered, straight and supple, well set-off by tbo 
odd, sallor-llke blouse of gray. 
Now he was poking fils head down tbo chasm, 
from which, but nearly out of reach, the parasol 
poked up Its head appealingly to him. Yes, a 
good head, too; a nice, round bead, covered with 
dark, smooth, soft-looking hair. Last of all, she 
obtained a view of the face. 
“Ah! what a pity!” cried the girl, Inwardly; 
and with furtive glances she continued to scan It 
till he came back to her side, successful lu both 
his quests. 
For the face was—bad. 
“ May I ask which way you are going?” 
Pauline could lmrdly tell. The idea of retracing 
her steps was scarcely to be borne — to push on 
seerned hopeless; she faltered and balanced the 
pros and cons in her mind. 
At last her tale was told. 
“ I was nearly let In for that Gaelic service my¬ 
self,” said her companion; “my men found It 
out, however, and warned me at the church door. 
So you are on your way to Gourloch?” 
“Yes; I was told one could cross here when 
the tide was out.” 
“ 1 should doubt it.” 
“You think It would not be safe to try?” 
“Hardly." 
“Considering,” reflected the young man, “ that 
you were staggering about like a new-born calf a 
few minutes ago, and are only happy now be¬ 
cause you are sitting down.” 
“ Then I must go bock the way I came. Thank 
you,” said Pauline, with dignity. She could be 
quite dignified as she sat on the rock. 
He hesitated, and looked towards the sea. 
“ The men arc here. Will you let them put you 
homo? Of course I shall accompany the boat,” 
lie added, hastily. 
Pauline (aside). •• And pray, who arc you?" 
outwardly, she followed the direction of his eyes 
with hers, and saw—what she might have seen 
long before If sho had looked—a large, beautiful¬ 
ly-appointed gig, manned by four tidy British 
tars. “ You are very good," 
“ Not at all. I shall be delighted to be of any 
use.” 
“ It, Is barely half ft mile beyond that headland ; 
you can see the tower from here.” 
“ Wliat a tremondous round It must be by tlie 
road ! Five or six mites, I should say.” 
“ Not, quite so far, hut still 
“Long enough. You would not do It, under an 
hour and a half." 
(*• 1 am wet, besides," considered Pauline, who 
was wetter than she could well confide to a 
stranger: “and I am tired. And If I refuse and 
turn back, f must accept, his escort, over t he rocks, 
for 1 could not possibly go crawling and falling 
about as I did when there was nobody near. 
What a disastrous expedition It has been from 
beginning to end! Khali 1 accept? 1 wish 1 
know. The boat does look charming, and sailors 
arc alwaj s nice; but, I don’t, altogether like ldm. 
Still, If 1 return, ho will comu too; and II I go In 
the boat, there wilt be all the others. I wonder 
which would bo best, or worst ?” A pause. “ The 
boat, is best,.”) “Thank you very much, tt you are 
quite sure I am not taking you out of your 
way 
(“Married,” decided the man— married, and 
a woman of t he world, or she would not bo so cool 
upon It. I never said it, was not taking me out of 
my way. However—-”) “Not In tbo least. 
Let mo help you down." 
“i cannot imagine,” said the young lady, as 
they stood watting for the boat, “ bow you did 
not bear mo before I was so close to you; l made 
enough noise.” 
“ f heard sounds, but, thought, my men had 
come ashore. It was not likely to bo any one 
else, you must acknowledge." 
“1 did not hear any sound; you took mo alto¬ 
gether by surprise." 
“ And had I not been there, should you have 
struggled on ?” 
“ Yes, I think so. 1 don't like giving up what I 
havo once begun." 
“ You might, If you had had good luck, have 
been a dozen steps further on by this time. I am 
sorry I retarded your progreas.” 
“ I am very much obliged to you.” (Gravely, 
as with this protest, “ So far as you havo done 
me a service, 1 am bound to acknowledge If; 
otherwise, as yet we sire strangers. Don’t make 
jokes., 1 ) 
The boat's crow now pulled alongside, and sho 
was handed lu. 
“ Delightful!” exclaimed the weary pedestrian 
to herself, as they sped over the water with a 
swift, noiseless rush that in a few seconds left the 
promouotory from which they had embarked far 
behind. “I cannot help being glad l came. It 
could riot be avoided; 1 had no choice. The 
men look respectable, and he Is a gentleman, 
whatever else lie may be. Wliat an odd adven¬ 
ture I Poor Ulllu Elsie I bow she would have en¬ 
joyed it t I wonder If she will be down at the 
shore when we come In. No one else will, It. Is to 
be hoped. Ah! how pleasant—bow very, very 
pleasant It 1st Now we are going over sand and 
shells; there scuttles off a little green crab under 
the weed. If Is quite shallow, too Are those 
oysters, or only their shells? llow beautiful are 
those great, trees rtslrig to tlie surface, and spread¬ 
ing themselves like feathery palms or giant ferns! 
Far, far down they go, Into that deep, dark, Invis¬ 
ible pit. It we were to upset here, I should bo 
drowned; I should go straight to the bottom, and 
never rise again. Ah! I am glad we are off that 
hollow; the sand Is rising again.”. Then dreamily 
her thoughts wandered Oil, as she hung In silence 
over the side. 
(“Might say a civil word or two," Inwardly 
commented the steersman, when some time had 
elapsed. “ I thought all Scotch girls could talk.”) 
“Is not this beautiful?” said Pauline, turning 
round. 
“Very." 
“Nothing can surpass the scenery of the west 
of Scotland.” 
“Nothing.” 
“ ICspeclaUy on a day like this.” 
"Certainly.” 
She had made her attempts, lb was his turn 
next. 
“ I hope you arc comfortable?” 
“ Perfectly, thank you,” 
“ You must be tired?” 
“AUttiu.” 
Discreet, If neither edifying nor original. The 
lady’s turn came again. 
“ When I come to Scotland I never want to go 
away ; aud yet when I am away, 1 hardly care to 
seek It, out again.” 
“Just what, I have felt. But Is not this your 
country?” 
“No." 
A pause. 
“My home Is In the south of England,” said 
Pauline, feeling herself ungracious, “ It Is—differ¬ 
ent there.” 
He acknowledged a difference, observed that he 
too was a stranger, and another spasmodic silence 
ensued. Then with a gasp of relief they simul¬ 
taneously rushed Into the old, old topic of the 
weather. 
Weather past, weather to come, weather at sea, 
weather among mountains; English, Scotch and 
Irish weather; the climates of ail countries— 
were discussed with an animation that left noth¬ 
ing to be desired. 
Meantime the mental commentaries 80 ran: 
“A line creature. A nice womanly woman. A 
good daughter, good sister, good wife—oh! in¬ 
deed! no wire at aU," as his eye fell on the rlng- 
less left hand clasped round the parasol—“no 
wife at all; wrong for once. Be that as It may 
you are a wffely, moth rly, daughterly girl, and 
I like you!" 
