Here all has been hush.
TALBOYS.
It came at once from all points of the compass – and they all met – all the storms – every mother's son of them – at a central point – where I happened to be. Of course, no house. Look for a house on an emergency, and if once in a million times you see one – the door is locked, and the people gone to Australia.
NORTH.
I insist on you putting on dry clothes. Don't try my temper.
TALBOYS.
By-and-by I began to have my suspicions that I had been distracted from the road – and was in the Channel of the Airey. But on looking down I saw the Airey in his own channel – almost as drumly as the mire-burn – vulgarly called road – I was plashing up. Altogether the scene was most animating – and in a moment of intense exhilaration – not to weather-fend, but in defiance – I unfurled my Umbrella.
NORTH.
What, a Plover with a Parapluie?
TALBOYS.
I use it, sir, but as a Parasol. Never but on this one occasion had it affronted rain.
NORTH.
The same we sat under, that dog-day, at Dunoon?
TALBOYS.
The same. Whew! Up into the sky like the incarnation of a whirlwind! No turning outside in – too strong-ribbed for inversion – before the wind he flew – like a creature of the element – and gracefully accomplished the descent on an eminence about a mile off.
NORTH.
Near Orain-imali-chauan-mala-chuilish?
TALBOYS.
I eyed him where he lay – not without anger. It had manifestly been a wilful act – he had torn himself from my grasp – and now he kept looking at me – at safe distance as he thought – like a wild animal suddenly undomesticated – and escaped into his native liberty. If he had sailed before the wind – why might not I? No need to stalk him – so I went at him right in front – but such another flounder! Then, sir, I first knew fatigue.
NORTH.
"So eagerly The Fiend
O'er bog, or steep, through strait, rough, dense, or rare,
With head, hands, wings, or feet pursues his way,
And swims, or sinks, or wades, or creeps, or flies."
TALBOYS.
Finally I reached him – closed on him – when Eolus, or Eurus, or Notus, or Favonius – for all the heathen wind-gods were abroad – inflated him, and away he flew – rustling like a dragon-fly – and zig-zagging all fiery-green in the gloom – sat down – as composedly as you would yourself, sir – on a knoll, in another region – engirdled with young birch-groves – as beautiful a resting-place, I must acknowledge as, after a lyrical flight, could have been selected for repose by Mr Wordsworth.
NORTH.
I know it – Arash-alaba-chalin-ora-begota-la-chona-hurie. Archy will go for it in the evening – all safe. But do go and put on dry clothes. What now, Billy?
BILLY BALMER.
Here are Mr Talboys' trunk, sir.
NORTH.
Who brought it?
BILLY.
Nea, Maister – I dan't kna' – I s'pose Carrier. I ken't reet weell – ance at Windermere-watter.
NORTH.
Swiss Giantess – Billy.
BILLY.
Ay – ay – sir.
NORTH.
You will find the Swiss Giantess as complete a dormitory as man can desire, Talboys. I reserve it for myself, in event of rheumatism. Though lined with velvet, it is always cool – ventilated on a new principle – of which I took merely a hint from the Punka. My cot hangs in what used to be the Exhibition-room – and her Retreat is now a commodious Dressing-room. Billy, show Mr Talboys to the Swiss Giantess.
BILLY.
Ay – ay, sir. This way, Mr Talboy – this way, sir.
TALBOYS.
What is your dinner-hour, Mr North?
NORTH.
Sharp seven – seven sharp.
TALBOYS.
And now 'tis but half-past two. Four hours for work. The Cladich – or whatever you call him – is rumbling disorderly in the wood; and I noted, as I crossed the bridge, that he was proud as a piper of being in Spate – but he looks more rational down in yonder meadows – and – heaven have mercy on me! there's Loch Awe!!
NORTH.
I thought it queer that you never looked at it.
TALBOYS.
Looked at it? How could I look at it? I don't believe it was there. If it was – from the hill-top I had eyes but for the Camp – the Tents and the Trees – and "Thee the spirit of them all!" Let me have another eye-full – another soul-full of the Loch. But 'twill never do to be losing time in this way. Where's my creel – where's my creel?
NORTH.
On your shoulders —
TALBOYS.
And my Book? Lost – lost – lost! Not in any one of all my pockets. I shall go mad.
NORTH.
Not far to go. Why your Book's in your hand.
TALBOYS.
At eight?
NORTH.
Seven. Archy, follow him – In that state of excitement he will be walking with his spectacles on over some precipice. Keep your eye on him, Archy —
ARCHY.
I can pretend to be carrying the landing-net, sir.
NORTH.
There's a specimen of a Scottish Lawyer, gentlemen. What do you think of him?
BULLER.
That he is without exception the most agreeable fellow, at first sight, I ever met in my life.
NORTH.
And so you would continue to think him, were you to see him twice a-week for twenty years. But he is far more than that – though, as the world goes, that is much: his mind is steel to the back-bone – his heart is sound as his lungs – his talents great – in literature, had he liked it, he might have excelled; but he has wisely chosen a better Profession – and his character now stands high as a Lawyer and a Judge.
