Staffa

“ It is entirely columnar, and the columns rise in successive ranges, until they reach the summit, where, from their great height, they appear, when viewed from below, diminutive. Staffa is an object of the [Pg 46] greatest beauty and regularity; the pillars are as distinct as if they had been reared by the hand of art; but it has not the extent or sublimity of the Scuir of Eigg. The one may be compared with the greatest exertions of human power; the other is characteristic of the wildest and most inimitable works of nature. ”

“ From their generally inaccessible position sea-caves have very rarely been occupied by man, and the history of their formation is so obvious that it requires no further notice. Among them the famous Fingal’s Cave, off the north coast of Ireland, and that of Staffa, on the opposite shore of Scotland, hollowed out of columnar basalt, are perhaps the most remarkable in Europe. ”

“ One is bound to Staffa, incidentally, on the way to Iona, and for the sake of Mendelssohn. Always afterward one is bound to Staffa because of itself. If only one could have Staffa for one's self. But there are always fellow travelers, there is no inn, no habitation here, not even a shepherd's shieling, visible from the water. There are a few sheep, a shepherd, and so there must be a shieling. To be marooned here—was it here Stevenson understudied for Bill Gunn, and "cheese, toasted mostly"? ”

“ The stones which it contains are all rounded, and of various, often considerable dimensions, and they exhibit specimens of granite, gneiss, micaceous schistus, quartz, and red sandstone. Together with these, are some rolled pieces of basalt.
Here then is a circumstance in the mineral history of Staffa, adventitious it is true, but involving difficulties of no small importance. If we cast our eyes on the map, (Pl. 35.) we shall perceive that it is embayed in a large sinuosity, formed in the island of Mull, and nearly enclosed on the opposite side by Iona, and the Treshanish islands. ”

“ Between them they wheeled his chair into the road and his screams and curses as he was lifted into the coach were terrible to hear.
"Lord, if he could but call out the gout!" cried Stafford. "Look at him, gentlemen! Ha, he has got his footman by the periwig! Oh, 'tis as good as a play, he is laying it on to the fellow like a Trojan! Why, the poor devil has escaped, but his wig is in the Colonel's hands. Ha, ha, he has sent it flying out of the coach! Off they go; what a voice the old boy has got, he is trumpeting like the elephant at the fair! Well, Jasper, what did I say? No duel to-day." ”

“ It was as if someone had walked over my grave; as if I felt the presentiment of some coming evil. I never felt like it before—Yes: she is very beautiful, Stafford. She is like a picture, a statue—no, that is not fair; for no picture had ever such magnificent hair, no statue was ever so full of life and—Oh, I want a word—power. Yes; she is like a tigress—a tigress asleep and in a good temper just for the present; but—"
Stafford laughed, the strong and healthy man's laugh of good-natured tolerance for the fancies of the woman he loves. ”

“ Ah, Ayre! it's all empty to me now."
"For God's sake, be a man! Is there nothing on earth to be but a saint or a husband?"
Stafford looked at him inquiringly.
"Heavens, man! have you no ambition? Here you are, with ten men's brains, and you sit—I don't know how you sit—in sackcloth, clearly, but whether for heaven or for Claudia I don't know. You think it odd to hear me preach ambition? I'm a lazy devil; but I have some power. Yes, I'm in my way a power. I might have been a greater. You might be a greater than ever I could."
Stafford listened.
"Do good if you can," Ayre went on, "and you can. ”

“ Apropos, what are you doing down here?"
"As an artist, I study your insolence professionally, Ayre, and it doesn't annoy me. I came down here to do nothing. I have stayed to paint Stafford."
"Ah! is Stafford then a professional saint?"
"He's an uncommon fine fellow. You're not fit to black his boots."
"I am not fit to black anybody's boots," responded Sir Roderick. "It's the other way. What's he doing down here?"
"I don't know. Says he's writing a book. Do you know Lady Claudia well?" ”

“ Landing from the steamer in San Francisco, Stafford had still felt himself to be in a strange country, though the people proclaimed themselves Americans of the Americans in every look and turn and voice. But the blue sky and the blue bay, the mountains and the outdoor life of the people, gave Stafford still the feeling that he was yet in a foreign land, as he had been for five years or more. ”

“ Stafford, as he looked from the bottom of the table to Sir Stephen at the head, felt with a thrill of pride that his father was the most distinguished-looking man of them all; and he noticed that in the tone of both the men and the women who addressed him there was that subtle note which indicates respect and the consideration which men and women of the world pay to one who has achieved greatness. ”

“ She tried not to think of Stafford; for every thought bestowed on him seemed to rob her dead father and to be disloyal to his memory; but, alas! the human heart is despotic; and as she lay awake and listened to the wailing of the wind and the rain as it drove against the window, Stafford's voice penetrated that of the storm; and, scarcely consciously, her lips were forming some of the passionate words of endearment which he had whispered to her by the stream and on the hill-side. ”

“ Stafford walked to the open window and leant out, bending his tired head upon his hand. As he looked out he saw through the darkness Eugene and Ayre still sitting on the terrace. Ayre was talking.
"Yes," he was saying, "we are taught to think ourselves of a mighty deal of importance. How we fare and what we do is set before us as a thing about which angels rejoice or mourn. The state of our little minds, or souls, or whatever it is, is a matter of deep care to the Creator—the Life of the universe. ”

“ As he spoke, Stafford and Claudia came up the drive and emerged on to the lawn. They did not see the others and appeared to be deep in conversation. Stafford was talking vehemently and Claudia listening with a look of amused mutiny on her face.
"He's sworn off, hasn't he?" asked Ayre.
"Yes."
"She doesn't care for him?"
"I don't think so; but a man can't tell."
"Nonsense!" said Ayre. "What's Eugene up to?"
"Oh, you know he's booked."
"Kate Bernard?"
"Yes."
"Tell you what, Morewood, I'll lay you—"
"No, you won't. Come and see the picture. It's the finest thing—in its way—I ever did." ”

“ Sir Stephen raised his head and looked at Stafford with a curious expression of mingled surprise and apprehension.
"What is it you are saying, Stafford?" he asked. "What is it you mean? I don't understand. We're not beaten; Ralph Falconer has offered to make the concession over to me; and no one need know that I have failed, that he had stolen the march on me. You heard what he said: that you were in love with his daughter Maude, and that of course he could not injure his future son-in-law. Stafford!" He sprang to his feet and began to pace up and down the room. ”

“ He felt like a man who has been seized by the tentacles of an octopus, unable to struggle, unable to move, dumb-stricken, and incapable even of protest. Sir Stephen had spoken of fate: Fate held Stafford under its iron heel, and the mockery of Fate's laughter mingled with the strains of the waltz, the murmur of voices. Unconsciously he rose and looked round as if half dazed, and Sir Stephen came to him and laid both hands on his shoulders. ”

“ The Might of the Falls
"She doesn't look a day over thirty! Remarkable!" said Lord Stafford.
"She grasps the ideas I present to her with astonishing quickness," answered his nephew, absently. "A very bright, eager mind. She has innate refinement and tact—for all her unconventional freedom of manner, which is only the outcome of her unconsciousness—and that is, after all, her particular charm, her unconsciousness. I catch a glimpse, now and then, of a certain wildness of spirit. ”

“ Most of the men in the crowd waiting eagerly for the exquisite voice would have been moved to the heart's core by her tone and the expression in her usually cold eyes, but Stafford was clothed in the armour of his great love, and only inclined his head. ”

“ Verily, love affairs do not always conduce to social enjoyment—more especially other people's love affairs. Still, Sir Roderick Ayre was entertained.
Meanwhile, Stafford sat in his room alone, save for the company of his own picture. He was like a man who has been groping his way through difficult paths in the dark—uneasy, it may be, and nervous, but with no serious alarm. On a sudden, a storm-flash may reveal to him that he is on the very edge of a precipice or already ankle-deep in some bottomless morass. ”

“ They had much to tell, and when Stafford slept that night there came to him no vexing or distempered dreams. He had come to a full realization of his new world and all its points of compass. To this strong, almost turbulent character a great peace and content had come. Though he was lying in the berth of a sleeping car there were in his ears, vague and incomplete words of the hackneyed but pleasant benediction:
"Sleep sweet within this quiet room, * * * whoe'er thou art, * * * no mournful yesterdays * * * disturb thy heart." ”

“ She must, no doubt, have seen that Stafford was greatly attracted to her, and probably she would have felt that the description of his state of mind as that of a man in love only erred to the extent that a general description must err when applied to a particular case. But she was both surprised and disturbed at hearing that Stafford intended to act upon his feelings, and the very fact of her power having overcome him did him evil service in her thoughts. The secret of his charm for her lay exactly in the attitude of renunciation that he was now abandoning. ”

“ He threw it to the wrecked lumber on his life's road. He did not hear Stafford's farewell nor his wife's icy response. He stood there with his hand clenched on the balustrade, motionless and wordless, until the evening shadows had crept over the silent garden. In that hour he knew himself to be an old and broken man.
Many miles away a dusty, haggard-faced rider urged his weary horse over the great highroad. Danger lurked in every shadow, but he heeded nothing—was scarcely conscious of what went on about him. He, too, suffered, but no remorse mingled itself with his tight-lipped grief. ”

“ If you kill him, or the other way, just do it outside, will you, so as not to make a mess? Now we'll lunch, and then Bob, my boy, we'll evaporate."
It was about three o'clock when Stafford arrived. He had managed to catch the 1:30 from London, and must have started the moment he had read his letter. He was shown into the billiard-room, where Eugene was restlessly smoking a cigar.
He came swiftly up, and held out his hand, saying:
"This is like you, my dear old fellow. Not another man in England would have done it."
"Nonsense!" replied Eugene. "I ought to have done more." ”

“ Stafford rose weakly upright, assisted by the men who had vainly sought opportunity to assist him in the sudden fight and turned toward the woman who lay faint and white, against the window ledge, with face upturned and eyes unseeing. ”

“ There was Stafford, as quiet, as pale, the lower part of his face as determined, the upper part as dreamy as ever. The poor man had put himself in the great man's path, and the chief, too angry, too completely dumfounded to speak or move, was taken at a momentary disadvantage.
Stafford had his watch in his hand. It was a cheap Waterbury watch; and his frock-coat looked as if it might have been the frock-coat of last year. "Good evening, sir," he said to the Editor. ”

“ Stafford laughed—for the well-known reason.
"Plucky little chap, isn't he?" he said, with a moved man's affectation of levity. "He's made a splendid fight for it and won through. He's a pretty little morsel—a well-bred 'un: wonder whom he belongs to?"
"To you—at least his life does," said Maude Falconer. "You couldn't have fought harder for it if it had been a human being." ”

“ Slowly the colour left Stafford's face, as the light of revelation broke in upon his brain. Why had he never suspected her? His brain was buzzing with sounds which came from inner voices—voices of old thoughts and imaginings, like little beings in a dark forest hovering on the march of the discoverer. ”

“ As she came nearer, admiration romped in ahead of amazement, for the girl was a young one—she looked like the average school-girl—and had one of the most beautiful faces Stafford had ever seen. She was dark, but the cheek that was swept by the long lashes was colourless with that exquisite and healthy pallor which one sees in the women of Northern Spain. Her hair was black but soft and silky, and the wind blew it in soft tendrils, now across her brow and now in dazzling strands about the soft felt hat which sat in graceful negligence upon the small and stately head. ”

“ It was neither the place nor the time for Miss Stafva to be important. But there was all the same a certain superior ring in her voice as she answered:
'There is always a fire in the young master's room. The young master's clothes are always in readiness for him.'
'Ingrid had better go up to her room,' said her ladyship. ”

“ What you will do, my dear Stafford, I know by bitter experience. He will go and wade through a river or ride at a break-neck pace down some of those hills. Stafford is never happy unless he is trying to lay up rheumatism for his old age or endeavouring to break his limbs."
Sir Stephen looked across the table at the stalwart, graceful frame; but he said nothing: there was no need, for his eyes were eloquent of love and admiration.
Stafford changed into riding things soon after breakfast, went down to the stables and had Adonis saddled. ”