Glashruach, as I have already said, stood on one of the roots of Glashgar, where the mountain settles down into the valley of the Daur.Immediately outside its principal gate ran the Glashburn; on the other side of the house, within the grounds, ran a smaller hill-stream, already mentioned as passing close under Ginevra's window.Both these fell into the Lorrie.Between them the mountain sloped gently up for some little distance, clothed with forest.On the side of the smaller burn, however, the side opposite the house, the ground rose abruptly.There also grew firs, but the soil was shallow, with rock immediately below, and they had not come to much.
Straight from the mountain, between the two streams, Gibbie approached the house, through larches and pines, raving and roaring in the wind.As he drew nearer, and saw how high the house stood above the valley and its waters, he began to think he had been foolish in coming there to find work; but when he reached a certain point whence the approach from the gate was visible, he started, stopped and stared.He rubbed his eyes.No; he was not asleep and dreaming by the cottage fire; the wind was about him, and the firs were howling and hissing; there was the cloudy mountain, with the Glashburn, fifty times its usual size, darting like brown lightning from it; but where was the iron gate with its two stone pillars, crested with wolf's-heads? where was the bridge? where was the wall, and the gravelled road to the house? Had he mistaken his bearings?
was he looking in a wrong direction? Below him was a wide, swift, fiercely rushing river, where water was none before! No; he made no mistake: there was the rest of the road, the end of it next the house! That was a great piece of it that fell frothing into the river and vanished! Bridge and gate and wall were gone utterly.
The burn had swallowed them, and now, foaming with madness, was roaring along, a great way within the grounds, and rapidly drawing nearer to the house, tearing to pieces and devouring all that defended it.There! what a mouthful of the shrubbery it gobbled up!
Slowly, graciously, the tall trees bowed their heads and sank into the torrent, but the moment they touched it, shot away like arrows.
Would the foundations of the house outstand it? Were they as strong as the walls of Babylon, yet if the water undermined them, down they must! Did the laird know that the enemy was within his gates? Not with all he had that day seen and gone through, had Gibbie until now gathered any notion of the force of rushing water.
Rousing himself from his bewildered amazement, he darted down the hill.If the other burn was behaving in like fashion, then indeed the fate of the house was sealed.But no; huge and wild as that was also, it was not able to tear down its banks of rock.From that side the house did not seem in danger.
Mr.Galbraith had gone again, leaving Ginevra to the care of Mistress Mac Farlane, with a strict order to both, and full authority to the latter to enforce it, that she should not set foot across the threshold on any pretext, or on the smallest expedition, without the housekeeper's attendance.He must take Joseph with him, he said, as he was going to the Duke's, but she could send for Angus upon any emergency.
The laird had of late been so little at home, that the establishment had been much reduced; Mistress Mac Farlane did most of the cooking herself; had quarrelled with the housemaid and not yet got another;and, Nicie dismissed, and the kitchen maid gone to visit her mother, was left alone in the house with her Mistress, if such we can call her who was really her prisoner.At this moment, however, she was not alone, for on the other side of the fire sat Angus, not thither attracted by any friendship for the housekeeper, but by the glass of whisky of which he sipped as he talked.Many a flood had Angus seen, and some that had done frightful damage, but never one that had caused him anxiety; and although this was worse than any of the rest, he had not yet a notion how bad it really was.For, as there was nothing to be done out of doors, and lie was not fond of being idle, he had been busy all the morning in the woodhouse, sawing and splitting for the winter-store, and working the better that he knew what honorarium awaited his appearance in the kitchen.In the woodhouse he only heard the wind and the rain and the roar, he saw nothing of the flood; when he entered the kitchen, it was by the back door, and he sat there without the smallest suspicion of what was going on in front.
Ginevra had had no companion since Nicie left her, and her days had been very dreary, but this day had been the dreariest in her life.
Mistress Mac Farlane made herself so disagreeable that she kept away from her as much as she could, spending most of her time in her own room, with her needlework and some books of poetry she had found in the library.But the poetry had turned out very dull--not at all like what Donal read, and throwing one of them aside for the tenth time that day, she wandered listlessly to the window, and stood there gazing out on the wild confusion--the burn roaring below, the trees opposite ready to be torn to pieces by the wind, and the valley beneath covered with stormy water.The tumult was so loud, that she did not hear a gentle knock at her door: as she turned away, weary of everything, she saw it softly open--and there to her astonishment stood Gibbie--come, she imagined, to seek shelter, because their cottage had been blown down.--Calculating the position of her room from what he knew of its windows, he had, with the experienced judgment of a mountaineer, gone to it almost direct.