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Bonnie Prince Fetlar: The Story of a Pony and His Friends

<h2>CHAPTER XXVI THE GREEN LADY AND THE BROWN MAN</h2> I stood stock still, scarcely daring to breathe. This was great news—that my boy would soon have both his parents—and there they were coming softly among the brakes that held out green inviting arms toward them. The man was tall and slightly stooping, the woman much shorter and very slight. There was something about her that moved me strangely, though I could not see her face on account of the long veil wrapped about her head. Her figure was charming and the way in which she lifted her pretty hunting boots and put them down so as not to crush the brakes reminded me of her boy's care for every living thing. She was all in green, as the doe had said. Even her dainty boots were green and a green stone flashed on the white hand clasping the veil. What a picturesque lovely mother! I should have been sorry for the boy if his mother had not been a thoroughbred. The man was not picturesque, but he was interesting. He was rather thin and careworn and had a crease in his forehead as if he were always puzzling over some difficult question. [Pg 311] "Fatigued in his chase for the dollar and old before his time," as Mr. Devering said. He was a brown man—clothes, hair, skin—though his skin was not the deep brown of Mr. Devering's, but rather a pale tan laid on over white, showing he had only been living the out-door life for a short time. His teeth were big and strong and very white I saw, when he smiled to encourage his wife, who was holding back at sight of me. "Ranna," he said, staring at her through his spectacles and holding out a hand to her, "you are surely not afraid of your brother's gift to your boy. What a superb pony! I see that, though my eyes are semi-blind to horseflesh." The lady came forward holding tightly to his hand, her eager eyes going beyond me to the place where her boy lay. Now I could see her face, for she was holding her veil aside. She was like the boy. Her eyes were of that strange pale hue that yet somehow warmed one's heart. All my naughty feelings toward her died away. I had been annoyed with this runaway mother and jealous of her. Now that I saw her so timid and clinging and with that wonderful look in her eyes that makes a pony follow a human being to death if necessary, I was on her side. I did not care so much about the man. I suspected that if he had been one to hold the reins firmly the beautiful lady would never have run away. I made a gentle nickering sound and stepped[Pg 312] toward her. Oh! what a flashing smile she gave me. It lighted up her rather sad face, and stretching out one little hand, she said in sweet husky tones, "Pretty creature!" I touched her hand. Poor lady! What a thousand pities that she had lost her lovely voice. She had forgotten me. Like one petrified, she stood gazing at the sleeping boy, who was certainly a picture as he lay on his fragrant couch, a smile on his lips, his arms crossed over his head, his face brown and handsome, for he had long ago lost the pallor that he had brought from his city home. "Douglas!" she said, "Douglas!" and her tone was almost terrified. Her husband was right beside her. "Compose yourself, Ranna. What is it?" "He is so immense," she whispered. "My tiny baby is gone." Her husband showed his big white teeth in a most amused smile. "What did you expect? You forget that twelve years have passed since you saw him—and you have seen his photographs. Why are you surprised?" "I forgot," she said, and her head sank on her breast, "but hush! he is speaking." Her lips parted, she leaned forward, her head on one side so that one of her delicate ears would be nearer the boy's lips. Then she sank back into her husband's arms, and burst into tears. Most unfortunately our dear lad that I could have told her, if I had been able to speak, was in this wood solely on the mother[Pg 313] quest, had in his dreams called out the name of the old servant who had been a mother to him when this young thing had run away. "Margie!" he had said quite clearly. "Margie! I want you." Poor little woman! Her husband could not comfort her. "He prefers my understudy," she said mournfully, and she wrapped her veil round her head. Her husband made a gesture of despair. "Ranna, I wish you were not such a sensitive plant. Your brother has told you that the boy will be wild with delight when he sees you." I was sorry for the lovely suffering woman, who reminded me of the White Phantom, and going very, very cautiously toward her I tried to look my sympathy. "Pony," she whispered huskily, "Pony with the deep brown eyes, 'The thorns which I have reaped are of the tree I planted, they have torn me and I bleed. I should have known what fruit would spring from such a seed.'" "He is waking," said her husband suddenly. She looked at the boy in a startled fashion, then she bent over him, kissed him quickly and lightly, and slipped back behind the huge tree looking down on his slumbers. The man appearing more puzzled than ever, peered at the boy through his glasses, and taking off his cap threw it on the ground, and anxiously pushed back the wave of brown hair on his forehead. [Pg 314] A light wind rustled through the wood, bringing on its wings the urgent call of a bird for its mate. Our boy woke up slowly, still muttering something about "Margie," and blinked at his father with sleepy eyes. Finally he sprang to his feet with a joyful cry and threw himself on his father's neck. "Oh! Where did you come from? How well you look!—Are you quite strong again?—Where are John and Margie?" Mr. Duff was a very happy man. He beamed on his boy and said enjoyably, "One question at a time and don't break my glasses, you young bear. What a hug!" "It's a three months' hug," said Dallas. "Oh! where are you staying, Father, and how did you get to Poor Dog's Pool? Did you follow me? Oh! I believe you are at the Good American's and came here by the Merry-Tongue river trail." Mr. Duff nodded. "I came in with him yesterday." "And have you seen Uncle Jim, and surely you are going to stay with us, or am I going with you?" The tall man blushed a bit under his tan, and taking off his spectacles he began to rub them nervously with his handkerchief. "Son," he said, squinting up his eyes as if the light hurt him, "we've got to have a talk." "And you hate talking," said Dallas. "Never mind, Father, I'll find out from Uncle Jim." "No, son," said Mr. Duff, putting on his glasses again, "I've left too many explanations to Uncle[Pg 315] Jim. I'm going to take one load off his shoulders." "He's a wonder, isn't he," said our boy enthusiastically. "I wish I'd known him sooner." Mr. Duff twisted his lips as if he were taking some medicine, then he said in quite a nice manly way, "It's a painful thing for a father to have to ask a son's pardon, but I've got to do it." "For what, Father, dear Father?" said my generous-hearted master. "If you ever did anything wrong, I've forgotten it. I've not been a perfect boy myself. Many little tempers I've had that you didn't know anything about." Mr. Duff leaned against the old lichen-covered boulder and laying one hand on it said, "Old rock, I confess to you, since my boy won't let me confess to him, that I've been forty-five years in the world learning how not to live." "And you, too, love 'rocks and rills and wooded hills,'" exclaimed the boy in delight. "I have always loved them," said the man. "The root of all evil does not flourish in Dame Nature's garden." "Father! You're not mean, you're generous. You hadn't as much money as you wanted. You had to work for it." "I wanted to make as much as your mother had. I was proud and foolish." Dallas, who had been leaning up against his father, now broke away, and began to pace up and down the springy ground swinging his hands in eager boy fashion. "My mother! My mother!" he cried. "Now at[Pg 316] last we can talk about her. You must tell me everything. She is near me. I feel it. How shall I see her? Quick, please, tell me. Uncle Jim nearly drove me crazy." Mr. Duff became scarlet. "You will soon, very soon, see your mother," he said in a low voice. "Don't tell me she is a dream mother or a ghost mother," exclaimed Dallas. "I want a real mother with hands that I can take and hold fast! Of course, my Father, she is quite alive?" His tone was terribly anxious, and Mr. Duff hastened to say re-assuringly, "Oh! yes, she is alive, very much alive. You will soon see her." My boy had both hands at his throat now as if he were suffocating with joy. The past was nothing to him. He thought only of the future. "Where is she?" he breathed in a quick short voice. "Tell me, Father, at once, please." "Quite near here," said Mr. Duff. "Calm yourself, my son." Instead of calming himself young Dallas gave a cry. The wind seizing a fold of the green veil had blown it lightly in his face. The boy sprang to the other side of the tree and we heard his call, "My Mother!—my own Mother!" Mr. Duff took out a handkerchief and mopped his forehead, but I stepped the other side of the tree. I wanted to see this little woman's face. There was nothing to see. She stood with head drooped like a woman who has come to the end of a long, long road and is satisfied. Her boy's face was hidden in her veil while her[Pg 317] arms were round him, and her cheek rested on his head. From time to time she made little murmuring sounds as she stroked him. They would never be parted again. Presently she looked up and I saw her eyes shining like diamonds from the sky. "Douglas!" she said, "Douglas!" Her husband went to her, and she took his hand. They were together now, these three, and she was the uniting link of the chain. Now she was triumphant, and with a flash of the Devering humour she exclaimed, "My husband and son, I ask your pardon for my long absence from home duties. They will be resumed at once!" Mr. Duff's embarrassment fell from him and he began to laugh in a most relieved way. The thought of this meeting had evidently been a terrible strain on him—but why would not Dallas lift his head? He could not stand through life clasping his mother in that frantic fashion. I had it—my boy was shy, and he was also in terror that if he released his hold this lovely vision would melt away. Finally his mother gently pushed back his head. "My darling—are you ashamed of me?" "Ashamed!" said the boy. "Oh, Mother!" then his eye fell on me. With his pony he was at home, and springing to me and blushing furiously he cried, "Fetlar, she's come—my beautiful mother has come. I don't know what I feel like——" [Pg 318] "But I do," said Mrs. Duff softly. "You are like a young tree that someone has seized by its stem and twisted round in the soil. You were facing the cold north, now you are toward the sunny south, and your roots will grow so deep that no one will ever be able to twist you again." The boy turned to me again. "But, Fetlar, my mother does not know that one of my roots is crooked." How the beautiful lady laughed. "Face me, my child," she said. "I know all about the little stories, but we shall cure all that. Now to find this wonderful uncle who has done so much for us all. Do not be afraid of me, my child." Dallas took her by her finger tips and edged toward me. I knew what he wished and backed up carefully. Then stretching out his arms he assisted his young mother to my back. <hr /> [Pg 319] <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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