Barbara Cartland - the mystery of the mountain valley. Barbara Cartland - The Mystery of the Heather Valley The Mystery of the Heather Valley film
Lord Strathcarn stood up from his high-backed chair and asked:
Would you like to see how they dance in Scotland?
I really, really want it! - Leona exclaimed. - But shouldn't I leave you?
I think I’ll do without port today,” he answered and led her up the high stone stairs to the next floor.
Mother told Leona that in every Scottish castle there is a so-called “room of the head of the clan.” This is the place where he receives his comrades, where battle plans are developed and where they have fun.
Of course, Leona saw in her imagination an incredibly large, gala hall, but as soon as they entered, she almost gasped in surprise and surprise.
It seemed that this hall extended in length across the entire castle. At one end there was a music gallery, all the walls were hung with deer heads and antlers, shields and ancient broadswords.
But the most unusual thing was the ceiling, decorated with wood. It housed the weapons of the Strathcarn clan.
Thick logs were burning in the fireplace, as Leona had expected, and clan members dressed in McCarn colors roamed the hall, waiting for the leader.
It all looked very colorful, but Leona knew that the clothing of the Scottish highlanders had appeared relatively recently, and in the recent past it was not just a highlander’s kilt, not just a piece of fabric denoting belonging to a particular clan, but a motto, a special insignia.
Each clan has its own motto, a warlike and fierce call to fight to the death and remember the heroic past. It was possible to determine which clan a person belonged to by special signs made of heather, oak or myrtle, which they wore under their hats.
Each plant had its own mystical meaning, protected against witchcraft and misfortunes, and this plant was also an essential item in the life of the clan. For the McNeils, for example, it was seaweed.
“It was with seaweed,” explained Mrs. Grenville, “that the MacNeills fertilized the barren lands of their western islands».
The McCarns wore beautifully tailored kilts, the folds of which flew out to the sides as they walked.
Lord Strathcarn led Leona to a small area next to the music gallery, on which were placed two high-backed chairs decorated with heraldic designs.
They sat down, and immediately the clan members began to dance fiery Scottish dances.
Leone often spoke about the lightness and mobility that Scottish men showed in dancing. Now she could see for herself that this was not an exaggeration.
The Scots held their backs and pulled their toes, they danced the reel. And the bagpipes cried and laughed. Leona was sure that she had never seen anything more wonderful and exciting in her life.
Sitting next to Lord Strathcarne, she thought that he was the real head of the clan, and also remembered those times when the heads of the clans reigned supreme in their narrow mountain valleys.
“The chief protected his clan, and they followed him everywhere and obeyed his orders without question,” her mother said.
But then Mrs. Grenville sadly added: “Alas, the Scottish Highlanders were forgotten by their leaders, and without them they were lost!”
They could not imagine life without a leader.
Leona knew that even in the 16th and 17th centuries, the head of the clan was a man whose experience and wisdom markedly exceeded that of most Englishmen.
“The leader could speak English and Gaelic,” said Mrs. Grenville, “and very often also knew Greek, French and Latin. He sent his sons to study at the universities of Glasgow, Edinburgh, Paris and Rome!
She smiled and continued: “He drank French red wines, wore lace collars and spent his time as was customary among his people.”
She became sad again and added: “But now it is not enough for the chiefs to hunt deer, wolf, wild cat or partridge. They came south, leaving their people like sheep without a shepherd.” Looking at Lord Strathcarne, who was watching the dance with interest, Leona thought that he was the kind of leader who was not indifferent to the fate of his people.
How she wanted her mother to be there now, so that she would know that Leona liked Scottish dancing just as much as she once did, liked sitting in this huge hall and listening to the sounds of bagpipes!
When the clansmen had finished dancing, Lord Strathcarne introduced many of them to Leone.
She noticed that he always mentioned that she had MacDonald blood in her veins and that this was her first visit to Scotland, but he never mentioned that she was the guest of the Duke of Ardness.
She had the feeling that things were a little strained between the Duke and Lord Strathcarne, and Leona tried to remember if there had ever been any internecine strife between the MacCarns and the MacCarns.
What a pity that now she can no longer remember much of what her mother told her in her stories of Scotland, in the exciting legends of military campaigns and superstitions that were part of her life, a part of herself.
Finally, after thanking the dancers, Lord Strathcarne led Leona into the drawing room on the first floor.
Thank you,” she said. - My gratitude is difficult to express in words.
Did you like it? - he asked.
“It’s so exciting,” she replied, “Mama was right when she said that no one could be lighter on foot than a Scotsman who dances the reel!”
Lord Strathcarne walked over to the drinks table in the corner of the living room and poured Leona some lemonade.
When he handed her the glass, they walked to the fireplace and stood in front of the fire. In the mysterious light of the flame, Leona's hair shimmered golden, and her head seemed to be surrounded by a halo.
They stood and listened to the wind howling outside the castle walls and the rain knocking on the windows.
“I bless this wind that brought you here today,” Lord Strathcarn said in a low voice. - This is something I never expected.
It all feels like magic to me,” Leona said. As she spoke, she again raised her eyes to the lord, and again his gaze fascinated her.
You are very beautiful! - he said quietly.
Confused, she turned away and fixed her gaze on the flames in the fireplace.
They stood in silence. Then, remembering how impressive he looked as the leader of the clan, Leona asked:
you stay here all year round?
This is my home, my life,” he answered. - I live here! To her surprise, at these words his voice changed greatly.
There was something unexpectedly sharp, even harsh, in the way he answered, and when she looked up in surprise, Lord Strathcarne said:
I think you are very tired, Miss Grenville. This day was very difficult for you. You probably already want to relax.
His tone and manner made Leona feel that he had closed himself off from her and was no longer as close and reliable as he had seemed since the incident on the road.
She so wanted to say that she didn’t have the slightest desire to go to sleep, that she wanted to stay here and talk to him!
She wanted to know so much, she needed to hear so much! But she thought that it would perhaps be indecent of her to suggest such a thing. Perhaps he was simply bored with her company.
Suddenly she felt like a young and inexperienced girl.
Perhaps, Leona thought timidly, she should have said that she wanted to go to bed as soon as they left the leader’s room.
Instead, she allowed him to demonstrate that he was willing to rid himself of her company and put her in a rather humiliating position.
Can I thank you again for your kindness? - she asked.
She looked up at him pleadingly, but he was looking in a completely different direction. Lord Strathcarn walked to the door, opened it and stepped into the corridor.
Mrs. McCray is expecting you,” he said. - Good night, Miss Grenville.
Good night, my lord.
Leona curtsied and walked down the corridor alone. She heard the lord return to the living room again.
“What did I say wrong? Why has he changed so much? - she asked herself, lying in bed. Strange shadows scattered across the room from the blazing fireplace.
“I don’t understand anything,” Leona said quietly, completely upset. Preoccupied with her thoughts, she finally fell asleep.
It's morning, miss, and the wind has stopped,” Mrs. McCray announced as she entered the room.
She pulled back the curtains, and then Leona heard the sound of bagpipes at the other end of the house.
The sun illuminated the room, spilling its golden light across it. All the fears and worries of the night seemed to melt away without a trace, and she wanted to get up and perhaps have breakfast with Lord Strathcairn.
But Mrs. McCray imagined it quite differently.
I ordered your breakfast to be brought here, miss, given how difficult it was for you yesterday.
Today I feel great! - Leona answered.
She looked towards the heavy tray that the maid was carrying into the room to place on the bed next to her, and dared to ask:
Would his... lordship expect... me to come down to breakfast with him?
His Lordship had breakfast an hour ago,” Mrs. McCray replied. “He is usually a very early riser, but today the lord suggested that when you are dressed, you might want to explore the gardens before you leave.”
Yes, of course, I would really like that! - Leona agreed.
She ate her breakfast quickly, and after Mrs. McCrae had helped her dress, the maid was ordered to pack her trunk.
In her heart, Leona hoped that today the wind would be as strong as yesterday, and she would not be able to continue her journey, or that the Duke's carriage would still not be repaired.
Having said goodbye to Mrs. McCrae and leaving the room, she saw two footmen in the corridor, who were waiting for the chest to be ready to carry it down to the carriage, which, as Leona guessed, was already standing at the castle gates.
She had a strange feeling that she was being forced to do something that she did not want at all, and she noted to herself that she would gladly stay in Lord Strathcarne's castle for longer. She did not at all want to go to the Duke of Ardnes.
“It seems ridiculous to me,” she mused as she walked past the living room, “but I feel like I’m leaving something very valuable here.”
However, all her observations of her own sensations were forgotten as soon as she saw Lord Strathcarne sitting at his desk.
He stood up to meet her as she entered, and Leona had to resist the urge to rush to him and tell him how glad she was to see him.
Instead, she curtsied.
“Good morning, Miss Grenville,” he said without a smile.
Good morning, my lord.
Did you sleep well?
Very good, thank you.
As you can see, the wind has died down overnight and today will be a warm, sunny day.
Mrs McCrae said you would show me the gardens.
If it gives you pleasure"
I'd love to see them!
I think you will find them quite beautiful,” he said. “They were laid down under my mother, and since then I have always tried to fulfill all her wishes.
They walked down the stairs, and when they emerged into the gardens through a side door of the castle, Leona realized that Lord Strathcarne's pride was well justified.
They walked from the castle to the lake and were protected on both sides by bushes. There were plants and flowers growing all around that were almost impossible to grow in Scotland’s climate.
The sun was very warm that day, and the hills surrounded the lake protectively.
Now, when Leona looked at the silver surface of the lake, she saw that small farms huddle around in the shadow of the hills, and herds of shaggy Scottish cows with huge horns grazed in small green areas.
Do you have a lot of land? - Leona asked.
“Not as much as I would like,” replied Lord Strathcarne, “but I have many acres of land in the east towards the sea and in the south towards Invernessshire.”
Leona thought his gaze darkened.
My domain ends at the top of the hill. Then the possessions of the Duke of Ardnes begin.
So close? - Leona exclaimed. - How far is his castle?
By road,” replied Lord Strathcarne, “you will have to travel ten miles, but if directly, then no more than three miles from here.”
How wonderful! - Leona exclaimed.
It is necessary to cross many gorges, crevasses and mountain rivers, and these rivers, when they overflow, can easily wash away the road, despite the fact that it is built much higher.
“Now I understand,” Leona nodded. Talking leisurely, they went down to the lake. Suddenly
Leona stopped and turned around to look at the castle behind her.
God, how beautiful he is! - she exclaimed in delight. - Just fairytale palace! I couldn’t even imagine that he was so handsome!
The castle really was like something out of a fairy tale. The walls, built of gray stone, rose high and were crowned with stepped turrets.
Just like the dancers she had seen last night, Leona thought that the castle looked very light, which was hard to expect from such a huge building.
“I think I understand why he means so much to you,” she told Lord Strathcairn.
“I already told you yesterday,” he replied, “this is my home and here I must live if I want to take care of my people and protect my clan.”
Leona was about to express her joy on this occasion, but Lord Strathcarne changed the topic of conversation.
I think, Miss Grenville,” he said, “that his lordship is expecting you.” The crew is already at the door, it's time for you to go.
Yes... of course,” Leona agreed.
She was upset again: it seemed to her that she should be the first to talk about her departure, and not wait until she was reminded.
At the same time, she didn’t want to leave the sunny garden at all.
She leisurely turned to look at the lake again.
"I hope now that I'm in Scotland I'll have the chance to see salmon being caught," she said. - My father, who loved fishing, often told me what an exciting spectacle it was!
People are often disappointed,” replied Lord Strathcarne. - Yes, and in life you often have to be disappointed.
He moved towards the castle. Leona could think of nothing more to delay her departure, and she followed Lord Strathcairn, losing all hope.
She looked at the heather fields in the distance.
How do you recognize the boundaries of your possessions? - asked the girl. - Maybe they are marked somehow?
“I think that my people have so studied every inch of my possessions that they are able to tell me which part of the heather belongs to the Duke of Ardnes and which belongs to me,” said Lord Strathcarne. - However, at the top of the hill there is great pyramid made of stones, which was laid centuries ago - by it I know that I have reached the border of my possessions.
They were approaching the castle, and as they walked along the path out of the garden, Leona saw a horse-drawn carriage waiting for her at the entrance.
It was... so nice of you... to let me spend the night here,” she said. - I hope we... meet again someday.
I guess it's unlikely.
Leona stopped to look at Lord Strathcarn. Her eyes widened in surprise.
But why? - she asked.
“His Lordship and I disagree on certain issues,” replied Lord Strathcarne.
“I... kept trying... to remember... if I had heard anything about... the civil strife between your clans,” Leona said after some hesitation.
We have fought in the past,” replied Lord Strathcarne, “but my father and the Duke have declared a truce.”
Which is now broken?
Which is now broken!
Lord Strathcarn said no more. He took a step forward, as if he wanted to quickly take her to the carriage.
So... I'll never see you again? - she asked in a quiet voice.
“I cannot appear at the Duke of Ardness’s castle,” he replied. - But let me repeat: you are always here. welcome guest and as I said yesterday, I am always at your service.
Then... can I... visit you? - she asked doubtfully.
I hope you will do so.
Lord Strathcarn turned to look at the heather fields behind him.
Before stone pyramid It’s very close, once you get to it, you are in my domain.
“I… will remember this,” Leona said, breathing deeply.
He looked into her eyes and Leona thought he was about to say something very important. He was about to open his mouth when they were interrupted.
A servant was walking towards them.
I beg your pardon, my lord, but the Duke's coachman says the horses are acting restless.
“Thank you, Duncan,” said Lord Strathcarne. - Miss Grenville is ready to go.
They entered the castle hall, where Leona's traveling cloak was waiting for her. She put it on and noticed that all her other things were already in the carriage.
Leona extended her hand.
I am sincerely grateful to your Lordship for your help and hospitality.
He took her hand in his, but did not kiss it, as Leona had hoped, but bowed. Leona curtsied and walked towards the carriage.
The coachman behaved very impatiently. As soon as Leona settled into the seat, he whipped the horses, and the carriage moved off.
She leaned forward, but only out of the corner of her eye did she see Lord Strathcarne standing on the steps of the castle, looking after her. The horses began to amble. Ahead lay a road through heather fields.
When they reached the place on the road where the carriage had overturned the previous night, Leona looked back at the castle overlooking the bank. beautiful lake.
She rolled down the window of the carriage to see better, and now, when the sun illuminated the surroundings, she thought again that she had never seen a more beautiful place.
The lilac heather fields, the lights on the water, the small farms nestled around the lake under the cover of the hills seemed even more beautiful than before.
And the castle itself looked like the perfect embodiment of all the mystery and romance of the highlands of Scotland.
What splendor! - Leona said to herself with a slight sigh.
Then the castle disappeared from sight.
As they rode, she wondered why Lord Strathcarne had quarreled so badly with the Duke that they were not even dating.
Leona couldn't forget the look on his face when she told him she was going to stay at Ardness Castle.
Why did this seem so strange to him?
Then she convinced herself that the Scots were very hot-tempered by nature and never forgave insults.
You only have to remember your mother's stories about the Campbells to understand how deeply they are capable of feeling.
“Perhaps I can somehow reconcile them with each other,” Leona thought.
She knew that she wanted this, so that she could see Lord Strathcarne. And the sooner the better.
The road they were traveling along was narrow and rocky. But the horses galloped quite briskly, and, according to Leona's calculations, they had already traveled four or five miles when the carriage suddenly stopped and loud voices were heard.
She looked out the window and to her surprise saw several people gathered near a small farm.
There was a terrible noise, and she watched in amazement as two men carried bedding and tableware, a spinning wheel and clothes from the house, while two women and several children shouted at them.
People from other farms fled along the road, and the horses could not go any further. Now Leona watched in horror as the two who had taken all the furniture out of the house set the roof on fire!
It was difficult to understand what was happening here. One woman, holding a child, shouted in Gaelic:
Tha to clan air a bhi air am type! Then came angry screams.
“They are killing my children!” - Leona translated and saw that in addition to the two people setting the house on fire, there were three more policemen there.
She got out of the carriage.
The noise and screams were terrible, but she saw that the women were trying to at least save the chickens, which were locked in the chicken coop and could be roasted alive.
As soon as the farm was on fire, a man rushed into the blazing house and jumped out, carrying a half-naked, crying child in his arms.
What's happening? What's going on here? - Leona asked.
What's happening? - Leona asked.
These people are being evicted, ma'am.
Evicted? - Leona exclaimed and immediately added: - Do you mean that the land is being cleared here?
His Lordship needs land, madam.
For sheep? - Leona asked.
Oh, yes, it is. And now, madam, if you get into the carriage, you can go further.
The man she was talking to turned away, and Leona saw that the coachman was holding the carriage door open and waiting for her to take her seat so she could continue on her way.
Help! Please, help! - the woman shouted to her. She hesitated for a moment, about to answer, but then the police officer hit the woman with a baton, and she fell to the ground.
Leona wanted to go to her, but as soon as she took a few steps, the person with whom she was talking appeared again.
Please, madam, leave at last! - he said rather sharply. “You won’t help her in any way, and his lordship won’t like it very much if you linger here.”
Leona wanted to intervene and protest against this treatment of women and children, but somehow she found herself back in the carriage, the door was slammed, and the horses were already galloping at full speed along the cleared road.
She looked out the window and saw a burning farm.
Then she saw that other people who had watched the first eviction, realizing that the same thing could happen to them, began to remove furniture from their homes themselves.
Leona leaned back in her seat, she was on the verge of fainting from horror.
She had heard talk of forced evictions to clear land for as long as she could remember, and they always talked about the terrible methods that were used.
Her mother, usually gentle and calm, was overcome with overwhelming anger when she spoke about this, and often she cried bitterly in despair.
But it always seemed to Leone that it had happened a long time ago. She could not even imagine that such unbearable cruelty still exists somewhere.
Mum often told her how in 1762 Sir John Lockhart Ross made sheep farming compulsory in the north and inadvertently destroyed the essence, the spirit of the Highlands.
Five hundred of his Cheviot sheep survived the harsh climate of Scotland, despite the fact that everyone predicted their death.
But the sheep grew well, and since wool is a rather valuable commodity, landlords saw another source of income in sheep breeding.
Many Scottish landlords at that time were on the verge of bankruptcy, and now they saw in their barren lands and narrow mountain valleys an excellent pasture for sheep.
But, naturally, the first necessity was to clear the lands of the people who inhabited them.
For centuries, mountain people endured harsh winters, tended to their farms, and raised cattle.
They could not believe that now they would have to leave their homes and leave the land that they considered their property.
They turned to the leaders of their clans for help - and did not receive it.
Many did not understand why they had to move closer to the sea coast and have difficulty making ends meet, or go overseas to an unknown world where complete uncertainty awaited them.
Their farms were set on fire right above their heads, and they themselves were treated like criminals.
From her earliest childhood, Leona heard stories of the suffering of people, first in Sutherland and then in Ross-y-Cromartie.
For her mother, it was a betrayal of everything she believed in, everything that was part of her heritage.
But Mrs. Grenville was far from her homeland, and it was quite difficult for her to imagine the real picture of what was happening there; it was difficult to understand how there was no one who could protect the highlanders.
All this was happening long before Leona was born, and it was only five years ago, in 1845, that a furious debate broke out in the Times newspaper regarding the forced removal of people in Scotland.
Editor John Delaney found that ninety peasants in Ross-y-Cromarty were evicted from Glencalvie and were forced to live in the churchyard because they had no roof over their heads.
The Times had not previously given any attention to the forced evictions in Scotland, but now John Delaney went there himself and witnessed the abuse of people from Glencalvey.
When Mrs. Grenville read aloud his reports of what he saw, tears rolled down her cheeks.
Mr. Delaney found that all the cottages in the mountain valley were empty, except for one, where a decrepit old man was dying.
The rest of the people were sitting on the hillside: the women were neatly dressed, with red or ordinary scarves on their heads, the men in their checkered shepherd's blankets.
The weather was damp and cold, and people were driven out of the valley. They had only three carts on which they seated their children. John Delaney wrote that everything that happened in Scotland was the result of "a cold, heartless calculation, which is as disgusting as it is unimaginable."
Why didn't anyone stop them, mom? - Leona asked her mother.
These people told the editor of the Times that they had never seen their landlord and that his proxies acted on his behalf and it was they who committed all these cruelties.
It was all very difficult for Leona to understand then, but now, hearing the children's cries and seeing the despair and hopelessness on the faces of people watching their houses being set on fire, she felt sick and dizzy with disgust and anger.
And she knew who was responsible for this.
It was useless to try to turn a blind eye to the fact that they were traveling through the land of the Duke, and the unfortunates who were now being made homeless were his people.
They, like others forcibly expelled, will have to huddled together and go to the sea coast.
The only way out is to board a ship and go far across the ocean. But on this ship people often die from cold, lack of food, or become victims of smallpox or typhoid epidemics.
"It can not be true! It can’t all start over again!” - thought Leona.
She remembered how her mother had cursed the sheep that had driven the Highlanders from their valleys and moorlands, where only the ghosts remained of those whose courage and endurance had once been the true pride of Scotland.
“How can the Duke do this to his people?” - Leona was indignant.
Now she understood perfectly why Lord Strathcarne was on bad terms with the Duke.
She saw a farm lord on the land where they raise cattle. They were located along the shore of the lake.
There were no flocks of sheep in the land he owned, and her heart softened as she now understood why his people needed him so much and why he needed to remain among them if he had to protect the interests of his people.
Then, very nervously, she thought about what she should say to the Duke when she met, and how to restrain herself from the words of curse that might fall from her lips as soon as she saw him.
“Or maybe he doesn’t know? Maybe he doesn’t understand the suffering these people have to endure?” - she said to herself.
But the eviction took place only a few miles from the castle.
Could he really be that blind?
And if he was in his possessions, unlike many of the northern landlords who lived in England, while their proxies were committing such terrible crimes in their name, then naturally he could not be unaware of what was happening.
The horses ran forward along the road among the heather fields, and Leona had an unbearable desire to jump out of the carriage and run back to Lord Strathcarne’s castle,
How she wished she had the courage to do this! But the crew rolled inexorably forward, and nothing could be done about it.
Leona was scared to the core and for the first time regretted that she had not refused the Duke’s invitation and came to Scotland.
“How can I... explain to him how I... feel?” - she asked herself.
She often quoted Eilean Dall, the blind bard of Glengarry, who wrote about the suffering of the common people of Scotland.
Eileen Dall chose very strong, meaningful words, - her mother explained to her. - He compared the sins of landlords with the sins of Sodom and Gomorrah. - She took a deep breath.
Even the MacDonalds, her ancestors, as Leona later learned, were not without sin.
Her father once mentioned that of all the Scottish landlords, none got rid of his people so easily as the MacDonalds of Glengarry or the Chisholms of Stranglass. Her mother didn't argue then, she just cried, and sometimes Leona felt like she cared about the eviction of people much more than the Battle of Glencoe.
Now, having seen everything with her own eyes, she understood why her mother was so horrified and crying.
"It is not right! This is unfair!" - Leona raged.
With every mile that brought her closer to Ardness Castle, she felt her anger increase, but at the same time a vague anxiety began to seize her.
The path filled with experiences began to seem endless to her. At last the carriage began to descend from the high road along which they had been traveling since they left Lord Strathcarne's castle.
The road led down into a mountain valley, first it twisted among dark firs, and then through fields covered with heather.
There weren't any farms along the way, but from time to time Leona noticed stone walls without roofs. She was sure that not many years had passed since these houses had been occupied.
A fast river ran through a mountain valley.
For some time they rode along the road along the river, and the mountains on both sides rose up so sharply and were so high that everything seemed to be covered with shadows falling from them.
But nevertheless, they had their own grandeur and beauty.
Here there was no soft charm of the surroundings of Lord Strathcarne's castle, here nature was more severe and expressive, but to Leone at that moment everything seemed to portend danger.
Only when she arrived at Ardness Castle itself did she realize how close she was to the sea.
Far away, at the very end mountain valley, she saw white ridges sea waves, and Ardness Castle towered high above the river mouth.
He made a much stronger impression. This castle was terrifying. Leona did not expect this.
The castle was probably built as a defense against enemy clans and Vikings. It was an impregnable fortress of enormous size.
A river flowed under the fortress, the sea raged behind it, and the gray stone from which it was built stood out sharply against the background of the hills. A terrible sight.
They had passed the bridge and were now driving along a road between low gnarled trees and thick bushes.
The tower that was closer to the sea was obviously built earlier, and instead of windows there were narrow slits of loopholes. The rest of the fortress was gray stone with a trestle roof, Gothic windows and sixteenth-century armory turrets.
The crew arrived at the castle. The huge door was like a formidable bastion made of wood with iron hinges. The stone hinged loopholes were high up, so that it was possible to pour molten lead on the uninvited guest.
There were a lot of servants bustling around, all dressed in kilts, and because Leona was nervous, they seemed to her like huge, bearded men of intimidating appearance.
One of them led her into a huge square hall, and then up a wide stone staircase, on which the footsteps sounded loud and echoing.
Upstairs, the servant opened the door for her and announced in a loud voice:
Miss Grenville, Your Grace!
The room turned out to be much larger than Leona had expected. The ceiling was high and vaulted, and the windows let in very little light.
The Duke stood at the far end of the hall in front of the carved fireplace. When she approached him, she felt as if she was shrinking in size, while he remained huge and powerful.
These were her first impressions, somewhat exaggerated due to excitement. However, the Duke was indeed tall, gray-haired and had an extremely commanding appearance.
He held his head high, but Leona saw that this man was very old and his face was riddled with deep wrinkles.
Now she understood perfectly what her mother meant when she described his appearance as terrifying.
The hand he extended to her was so much larger than her own that Leona felt as if the palm was caught in a trap from which she could not escape.
Finally you have arrived! - exclaimed the Duke. His voice was sonorous, and although he smiled, the girl could not help but feel that his tone contained a reproach.
Leona curtsied. When she stood up, the Duke was still holding her hand and was constantly looking at her with a penetrating and studying gaze. This left Leona somewhat confused.
I hope you have already been informed, Your Grace, that the carriage capsized last night.
Which means you had to stay the night at Strathcarn Castle. An extremely sad fact! My people should have taken better care of you.
It’s not their fault at all,” Leona said. - The wind was very strong, the rain blinded their eyes. I think the wheels just came off the road.
They will be punished! - the Duke said sharply. - But you! Finally you have arrived!
“I’m here, Your Grace,” Leona nodded, “but on the way here I observed a terrible scene.”
What was it?
His question sounded like a pistol shot.
Eviction... Your Grace...
The Duke did not answer, and Leona continued:
It was the most... humiliating and most... heartbreaking scene I have ever... seen in my life.
She was going to talk about it harshly, but her voice sounded weak and worried.
“Mom often talked about forced evictions,” she continued, “but I didn’t... believe that such things were still happening. At least not here!
“There is only one mountain valley left, in which live stubborn fools who do not want to do what they are told,” answered the Duke.
But their farms... they were set on fire!
You had no right to stop! - exclaimed the Duke.
That’s not the point,” Leona shook her head. - This happened before my eyes... and... one child... he almost burned alive!
The Duke made a restless movement, and the girl realized that he was furious.
I think that after the journey you will want to wash yourself before you taste the food prepared especially for you,” he said coldly. - You will be shown to your bedroom.
His hand fell on the bell, and although Leona was going to tell him a lot more, the words somehow got stuck in her throat.
The girl realized that he was brushing her off like an annoying fly, and everything she said made absolutely no impression on him.
Never before had she felt such powerlessness and helplessness.
Besides her, there were two more maids there. They all curtsied.
“I’m Mrs. Mackenzie,” said the housekeeper, “this is Maggie, and this is Janet.” We are here, miss, to serve you.
Thank you, said Leona.48
His Lordship ordered us to fulfill all your requests and wishes. Everything you need, miss, will be brought to you right away.
Thank you,” Leona repeated.
She wondered what would happen if she asked that the evicted people be sent food and clothing.
This was what she wanted most, but she knew that she would never have the courage to even mention it.
“No wonder Lord Strathcarne fell out with the Duke,” she thought.
How she longed to return to Lord Strathcarne's castle...
Or maybe she wanted more to see... his owner?
Barbara Cartland
The cruelty of the Highlanders will never be forgiven or forgotten.
To allow farmers from southern Scotland and England to raise sheep in their mountain valleys and hillsides, clan chiefs cleared the land of people, calling on police and soldiers if necessary.
Beginning in 1785 in Sutherland, the evictions did not end until 1854 in Ross-y-Cromartie. Hundreds of thousands of Scots were forced to emigrate, a third of them died of starvation, cholera, typhus and smallpox in the fetid holds of rotten ships. 58,000 people left Britain for Canada in 1831 and a further 66,000 the following year.
At first Crimean War The British turned to the Scots in search of excellent fighters. Between 1793 and 1815, 72,385 Scots led Wellington's armies to victory over Napoleon.
But in 1854, recruiters were greeted with bleating and barking. The representative of the people told the landlords: “Send your deer, your roe deer, your lambs, dogs, your shepherds and huntsmen to fight the Russians, but they have done nothing wrong to us!”
Now among the hills and heather fields there are no longer those who once took part in great and glorious victories, who glorified Scotland, and let the famous tartan cloth be their shroud.
Leona was pierced by the wind, making its way through every crack in the carriage. The carriage was expensive and well made, but nothing could now serve as protection from the cold.
The hurricane wind that raged across the heather-covered valley was so strong that the horses crawled like turtles.
For Leona, this weather was a real disappointment. Yesterday the sky was clear, the sun was shining brightly, and Leona was calmly riding in a stroller, looking at the lilac heather fields.
She admired high peaks, silhouetted against the blue sky, and rejoiced like a child, looking at the silver cascades of waters turning into rivers and streams.
“This is even more beautiful than my mother described,” the girl thought. She knew that there was nothing more exciting in the world than traveling around Scotland.
From childhood, Leona heard about the brave inhabitants of the mountains, about powerful clans and about the devotion of the Jacobites to the “King beyond the sea” - tales of the true heroism of real men.
For her mother, it was all so real, touching and filled with nostalgia that when she began to talk, her voice trembled with the feelings she was experiencing. Leona will never be able to forget this.
For Elizabeth MacDonald, the betrayal of the Campbells at the Battle of Glencoe seemed like yesterday.
Despite the fact that she had lived far from her native place for a long time, she last day she remained Scottish in thought, word and deed.
“Your mother loves me very much, but for her I’m still just an Englishman,” Leona’s father would sometimes say and smile.
Of course, he was joking, but Leona’s father was absolutely right that Elizabeth loved him very much.
Leona could not imagine that any other man and woman could be happier together than her parents.
They were desperately poor, but that didn't matter at all.
When Richard Grenville was released from military service for health reasons, he was left with only a pension and a dilapidated house in Essex. There he lived with his wife and Leona, their only child.
He did the housework leisurely, but without much enthusiasm; they had chickens, eggs, ducks, turkeys and even sometimes lamb for the table.
Lack of money never seemed like a big deal. They got along just fine without elegant clothes, beautiful carriages and visits to London.
The main thing is that they were together.
It seemed to Leona that her house was constantly filled with sunshine and fun, even though the upholstery on the furniture was worn almost to holes, and the curtains were so faded that it was no longer possible to determine their original color.
“We were happy... so happy,” she said to herself, “until my father died.”
Richard Grenville died suddenly of a heart attack, and his wife lost the will to live. Without him, life had no meaning.
She fell into a sad, depressed state, from which even her daughter could not bring her out.
Mom, go look at the little chickens,” Leona persuaded her. Sometimes the girl asked her mother to help her cope with two horses - their only means of transportation.
But Mrs. Grenville was melting before our eyes. She sat at home all day, immersed in memories and counting the days until the moment when she could finally be reunited with her husband.
She hardly thought about Leon and did not make any plans for her.
“You don’t have to die, mom,” Leona once told her in complete despair.
She could almost see her mother slipping away into an unknown world where, as she was convinced, her beloved husband was waiting for her.
Leona's words seemed to make no impression on her mother, and, losing all hope, she added:
What will happen to me? What should I do, mom, if you leave me?
It seemed that the thought of her daughter’s fate had only just now occurred to Elizabeth.
You can't stay here, honey.
“I can’t do it alone,” Leona agreed. “Besides, when you die, I won’t even have your widow’s allowance to feed myself.”
Mrs. Grenville closed her eyes: she did not like the reminder that she was a widow. Then she said slowly"
Bring me my writing materials.
Who are you going to write to, Mom? - Leona asked interestedly, fulfilling her request.
She knew that they had very few relatives. My father's parents were from Devonshire and died a long time ago.
Her mother was born near Loch Leven but was orphaned before she married and lived with her elderly aunt and uncle, who died shortly after she left for the south.
Leona guessed that there were probably some cousins on her father's or mother's side whom she had never met.
“I am writing,” said Elizabeth Grenville quietly, “to the best friend of my childhood.
Leona silently waited for the continuation.
Jenny McLeod and I grew up together,” she said. “And since my parents died early, I lived in her house for months, and sometimes she came to stay with me.
Mom looked dreamily into space, plunging into childhood memories.
Jenny's parents took me out for the first time, it was a grand ball in Edinburgh, we were both almost eighteen then, and when I left Scotland with your father, the only thing I regretted was that I would no longer be able to see Jenny so often.
Font:
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© Dmitry Kudrets, 2018
ISBN 978-5-4493-8993-0
Created in the intellectual publishing system Ridero
There were various rumors about Heather Valley in the city. It was gloomy old castle, made of huge gray stones back in the Middle Ages and miraculously retained its pristine appearance until now. Located on the very outskirts of the city opposite the cemetery, it instilled fear and fear in the townspeople. The high stone walls and the fence made of the same boulders evoked melancholy and seemed to keep terrible secrets behind them. Few people dared to walk past this gloomy and gloomy structure late at night. And if anyone wandered here by chance, they tried to leave this unsightly place as quickly as possible.
There was a lot of talk about the castle. Some said there were ghosts there. Others say that there lives an old lady who has not been seen in public for ten years. Still others... What can people come up with? Everyone insisted and persistently proved and defended their point of view. But, despite the disagreements, everyone agreed on one thing - something was wrong behind the high stone fence of the ancient mansion. But no one could really say what. There were, however, brave souls who tried to get over the fence, but the ledges and prickly thorns along the top prevented any attempts to find out about what was happening inside.
For some time, talk about the castle fell silent, but then again became one of the topics of conversation. Moreover, the inhabitants of Heather Valley, as the castle was called by a strange coincidence, from time to time themselves gave reasons to talk. There were also all sorts of rumors and gossip about them in the city. Some said that some kind of sect was located in the castle. Others claimed that there was a penal colony there. But, one way or another, the cautious townspeople tried not to collide with the inhabitants of the castle.
And the inhabitants of Heather Valley lived their own lives. They led a rather reclusive lifestyle, did not communicate with anyone and did not allow anyone to approach them. Their appearance in the city frightened and at the same time aroused curiosity and interest among the townspeople. Hiding in their homes, they secretly watched from slightly open windows as a small bus stopped in front of some shop, and a group of girls and boys, dressed in identical uniforms, poured out of it, under the vigilant attention of two women dressed in the same strict gray suits . The women went into shops, mostly bookshops and haberdasheries, made some purchases and returned to their pets, who were waiting for them outside. It happened that children were allowed inside, but only for a few minutes. Most For a while they stared at the astonished passers-by, quietly talking to each other. And although this campaign appeared quite often in the city, passers-by tried to cross to the other side of the street when they appeared. If the campaign was going to a movie theater or an exhibition, visitors tried to leave the premises as quickly as possible, shying away from children as if they were lepers.
The inhabitants of the castle were unwanted guests in this city, although they had every right to do so.
But not everyone in the city was unfriendly to the inhabitants of Heather Valley. Compassionate old women constantly set them up as an example to their slow grandchildren. The shopkeepers, seeing them, rejoiced, displaying their best goods. After all, a visit to their establishments by the inhabitants of the castle promised them a considerable income. Women who were constantly with their children while shopping often argued with merchants like ordinary city squabblers, trying to bring down the price of this or that product. But almost always they relented and paid the original amount. If children made purchases, they unquestioningly paid, sometimes several times inflated amounts, which undoubtedly benefited the traders.
Heather Valley was not such a closed establishment as they said in the city. Of the permanent inhabitants there were thirteen people. Six boys, six girls and a woman, who behind her back was called the headmistress according to her position. All the rest of the staff - cooks, cleaners, teachers - lived in the city and went to Heather Valley every day to work. Although it could not be called ordinary work. The working day began around six or seven o'clock in the morning and lasted until the evening. This suited the workers quite well, since they paid well in the Valley. Almost too good. Therefore, it was very difficult to get a job there, even with money and connections. Recruitment, as well as all matters, was in charge of the headmistress, Miss Bourne. A tall, thin woman, always reserved and taciturn, she assessed applicants at first glance and almost always answered with a refusal. Attempts to get settled again were pointless. Miss Bourne had a phenomenal memory. Having met a person only once, she unmistakably recognized him and respectfully greeted him at random meetings in the city, either out of respect, or mocking the unlucky petitioner.
People who worked in the Valley were envied. But all attempts to find out what was happening behind the high fence were unsuccessful. One of the rules for the inhabitants was not to let strangers into their affairs. But idle townspeople soon found out that in the Heather Valley there was either a school or a shelter for abandoned children.
Access to the Valley for outsiders was strictly prohibited. Reporters and journalists from local newspapers and magazines, as well as all kinds of representatives of guardianship authorities, municipalities and education, were especially not allowed there.
The Cerberus at the entrance was always Miss Bourne herself. She always greeted them the same way:
- This is private property. There's nothing for you to do here.
And they had no choice but to watch the children having fun through the bars of the entrance gate. Although there wasn't much to see. The growing trees and bushes were arranged in such a way that only the sandy path leading to the high porch of the castle was visible through the lacy greenery. Everything else was securely hidden from prying eyes by the stone walls of the fence and the inaccessibility of the mistress of the castle.
Heather Valley lived its own measured life, independent of anyone. The children were housed in one of the wings of a huge old mansion in rooms of two. The rooms were furnished quite simply, but at the same time tastefully and in the latest fashion. They had everything necessary for their residents - shower, toilet, washbasin. A table for studying, a wardrobe, shelves for books, two beds, a pair of chairs - that’s all the furniture. But, despite the apparent simplicity, many could envy the taste with which the wallpaper, curtains on the windows and carpets on the floor were chosen. All rooms had the same standard set of furniture and differed only in the colors of the wallpaper and the arrangement of furniture. The students themselves chose the color for decoration and complemented the decor with many other things that they liked. There was an unwritten rule in the Valley - no one could enter someone else's room without the owner's permission. The maintenance staff did not appear in this wing at all. Establishing and maintaining order in the rooms and in the corridor was the responsibility of the pupils. Only at the end of the week, at the allotted time, did the laundress appear here to pick up the dirty linen and bring fresh ones.
The rise took place at seven o'clock in the morning. After the morning toilet, the children went to the dining room, located at the end of the corridor, to have breakfast. After breakfast we headed to the other wing of the building, where the classrooms were located. Each office had its own purpose, and children moved from one office to another according to a schedule. The classrooms were equipped according to the latest trends in education, science and pedagogy. And if something was missing, the teachers made a request to the housekeeper, Miss Phasey, and after a couple of days, the most necessary things were delivered to them. But before shelling out money for a new book or device, Miss Phasey talked long and persistently about its necessity, establishing its importance. And if the requester’s arguments suited her, she agreed. Knowing this feature, the teachers did not try too often to impose themselves on Miss Phasey.
Training in the Valley was quite relaxed. Before lunch there were classes according to the schedule, which was drawn up by Miss Bourne, and after lunch until dinner, the pupils were given the opportunity to study at their discretion. Some went to the classrooms, where they, together with the teachers, racked their brains over some problem. Others went to the park that surrounded the castle, and there they either loitered around or helped the gardener, Mr. Peters. Mr. Peters was a silent old man who looked after not only the flower beds, bushes and trees, but was also a janitor, a watchman, and a handyman all rolled into one. The children helped him care for numerous flowers and bushes, or simply kicked a ball on the playground. After classes, some returned to their rooms, where they read books or prepared for tomorrow's classes. Homework was not practiced in the Valley. The children studied and reinforced the bulk of the material in class. And if they were given something to take home, the assignments were more of a creative nature and were an addition to the topics being studied. Also, grading for oral answers and written assignments was not practiced in the Valley. Miss Bourne and most teachers believed that grades diminished children's individual characteristics. Of course, it sometimes happened that one of the students could not answer this or that question or solve this or that problem. In this case, the teachers gave them a chance to improve and asked them in the next lesson. If this time the student was still in the basics of science, then the teachers had no choice but to report this to the headmistress, who chose the punishment. The punishments for each of the pupils were different. Hall McPherson, for example, hated peeling potatoes. Miss Bourne knew this very well and whenever Hall was given a punishment, she sent him to the kitchen, where, under the watchful eye of the cook Mrs. Doherty, he peeled potatoes for dinner and for the whole next day. Hall, having sat over a vat of potatoes a couple of times, tried not to get caught in the future. Quiet Eric Lenard, on the contrary, enjoyed being punished with potatoes. Uncommunicative and withdrawn, he was constantly looking for an opportunity to retire away from everyone and indulge in his dreams and dreams. No one in Heather Valley knew what Eric dreamed about. And he, having read the books of Jules Verne, imagined himself as a great navigator and discovered new countries and islands in his imagination. And so that no one would bother him, he, even knowing the lesson well, remained stubbornly silent and waited for the opportunity to go to the kitchen, where, in a corner, sitting in front of a vat of potatoes, he could enjoy his dreams to the fullest. Miss Bourne soon found out about this and, no matter how hard Eric tried, he was not sent to peel potatoes anymore. As a punishment, Miss Bourne chose to read books on geography for him. She left him in the library with a stack of books in front of him and periodically checked how much he had read. The poor quiet man sighed sadly over the books, realizing that everything had long been open without him. This was the biggest punishment for him. In fact, the students of the Valley did not seek punishment and answered as expected the second time, which pleased the teachers and the headmistress.
Life in the Valley flowed at its usual, measured pace. And Miss Bourne watched all this tirelessly. She was aware of everything that happened in the castle. Not a single event, even an insignificant one, escaped her eyes or passed her ears. And although the inhabitants of the castle made their own decisions, the last word remained with her. She was a guardian, a vigilant guardian of Heather Valley. For days she wandered the corridors of the castle or sat in her office over papers. Laconic and reserved, she seemed to be keeping some secret. And even her closest friend and ally Miss Phasey could not predict what Miss Bourne would throw out at one time or another. They respected her and were a little afraid of her. Even the cook, fat old Mrs. Doherty, who could cause a scandal over a slightly bruised tomato at the market, when Miss Bourne appeared, she became depressed and tried to do something to get rid of her presence as quickly as possible.
Miss Bourne did not like the cook, but the children loved her. She always had something tasty hidden in her kitchen. She did not spare food and every day she came up with new dishes that made her mouth water at the sight of them. And on weekends she threw whole feasts and was offended if the children left food on their plates. Miss Bourne tried to point out to Mrs. Doherty some extravagance, to which she snapped:
– I can’t cook out of thin air. If you don't like my cooking, then look for another cook. I won't be left without work.
Miss Bourne had no choice but to accept it. Moreover, she herself was not averse to sometimes popping into the kitchen, drinking a cup of coffee and cake and listening to the endless chatter of old Mrs. Doherty. Mrs. Doherty was quite corpulent, but at the same time quite agile. She managed in the kitchen alone. All attempts to find her an assistant were unsuccessful. Mrs. Doherty opposed this in every possible way. In the kitchen she was the absolute mistress and was not going to share this role with anyone. Of course, she alone could not fully manage to feed such a crowd. Every day she was helped in the kitchen by two of her pupils, whom Mrs Doherty taught in her skills of cooking, tending the boilers and washing the dishes after meals, carefully scrubbing the pots. One could easily get a towel from her for leaking milk or poorly washed dishes, but the children knew that this was only a manifestation of the kindness that Mrs. Doherty radiated. Duty in the kitchen for the pupils was not a punishment, but rather a reward. After all, Mrs. Doherty always had some unusual cookies, cake, or just a handful of sweets hidden away. And when everything was tidied up after lunch, and there was still a lot of time left before dinner, Mrs. Doherty allowed herself to relax. She sat on a creaky chair by the stove to drink a cup of coffee, eat a couple of pastries or a piece of cake and sigh about life. For all her talkativeness, no one really knew about her family or about herself. And no one tried to get into the soul of another.
So the days dragged on in Heather Valley from Monday to Sunday.
One day after breakfast, Mrs. Bourne made another round of offices. Walking through the bedrooms, she gave instructions to Miss Phasey, who, so as not to forget anything, wrote everything down in a thick, fairly battered notebook. Nothing escaped the director's gaze. Looking into the office of Mr. Cox, who taught literature classes, she noticed that there were white stains from the mugs on the polished surface of the teacher's table. Cox liked to drink tea during class. He drank the tea very hot and the mug left marks on the dark surface of the table.
- What it is? – Mrs. Bourne asked menacingly.
Cox began to apologize guiltily.
“I’m not against free behavior in class if it doesn’t interfere with learning,” Miss Bourne continued, not paying attention to Cox’s apology. – Drink your tea, but don’t damage the furniture.
“This can be cleaned up,” Cox muttered, trying to wipe the stains off the table with his jacket sleeve.
“Replace,” Mrs. Bourne said dryly to Miss Phasey, leaving the office. “And come up with some kind of stand so that Cox doesn’t damage the property in the future.”
“But the table can be cleaned,” Miss Phasey tried to intercede for Cox.
“I said replace,” the headmistress said calmly. – We must have the best. Yes, and you should dress more decently. You don't follow fashion at all.
Miss Phasey lowered her eyes guiltily. She really didn't follow fashion trends. She tried to dress as modestly and inconspicuously as possible, because she believed that her position as a housekeeper was in no way compatible with lush, bright outfits. After listening to the remark about her outfit, Miss Phasey was perplexed, but took this as a motive for action. The next day she came to work in a silk floral dress, which immediately caught the headmistress’s eye.
“Miss Phasey,” Miss Bourne said dryly, appreciating the housekeeper’s new outfit. “We have an educational institution here, not a brothel.” Your outfit is too provocative. What example are you setting for your children?
Miss Phasey immediately hurried to change her dress to a gray uniform.
As for the uniform, which all the pupils of Heather Valley wore, it was introduced by Miss Bourne. And to all the children’s questions about why we wear uniforms, the headmistress invariably answered:
- It disciplines. This is your face. The face of our school. Stands out from the crowd. Take a closer look at how the people around you are dressed. Consumer goods. Everything is different, but in principle everything is the same. The only difference is color and price.
And the children had no choice but to accept it. Miss Bourne was conservative in her dress. Her entire wardrobe consisted of several asphalt-colored suits and a couple of gray dresses, which she occasionally allowed herself to embellish with a handmade lace collar or an amber brooch. She was not so strict regarding the clothing of her students. The children had a decent supply of things for sports, holidays and just a couple of things that they wore on weekends. They invariably appeared in uniform at classes and in the city, as Miss Bourne demanded. The teachers could come in whatever they wanted, but Miss Bourne unobtrusively watched over their wardrobe, giving advice (more like instructions) on this or that costume. And the teachers, one way or another, agreed with her.
On Saturday and Sunday, when there were no classes, the children went about their business. They spent half of Saturday tidying up their rooms and the area around the castle. After lunch, some of the pupils retired to the library with Miss Bourne and prepared for Sunday. Every Sunday, if we did not go into the city, some kind of holiday was held in Heather Valley. The children came up with them themselves; Miss Bourne did not interfere with the idea of the holiday or how to hold it, only occasionally giving advice on how to organize it better. On the approaching Sunday, they decided to hold a party in Heather Valley in honor of Lee's birthday. The children wanted to have a celebration only in her honor - with gifts, with congratulations, with a big cake, but Miss Bourne hinted that it would be nice to have a birthday party for everyone. The children happily agreed with this idea. This is how it was done in the Valley - all the joys, all the events were common, so that no one felt deprived. The main honors, of course, went to the hero of the occasion. But everyone present also received their share of congratulations, gifts and cake. Having given the idea, Miss Bourne went off about her business, leaving the children alone to come up with a scenario for tomorrow's celebration. The children immediately began vying with each other to offer their thoughts. They argued for a long time, everyone tried to defend their point of view, in the end they found a compromise and, in order not to forget anything, they wrote everything down on paper. Having finished with the script and having assigned tomorrow's roles and responsibilities, the children began congratulating them. It was decided to give everyone a humorous gift, and so that no one would know in advance what they had prepared for him, they decided by drawing lots who would congratulate whom. With that they went to their rooms.
At ten o'clock according to the regime in Vereskovaya Valley there was a curfew. But almost no one followed these rules. Children gathered in someone's room, discussing the latest news, making plans for the future, or simply chatting about nothing. The stern Miss Bourne always looked into their bedrooms before going home.
“It’s time for you to leave,” she reminded, and agreed to the children’s requests to sit a little longer. - Just don’t stay too long.
Sometimes she stayed with her pupils and before bedtime told them various stories that she had once heard. She patiently answered their endless questions. She spoke smoothly, without unnecessary emotions, without raising her voice. The children, accustomed to her external coldness and inaccessibility, knew very well that they could always turn to the headmistress for any reason. And she will always listen carefully and give valuable advice on what to do in a given situation. She always delved into the essence of the problem in order to later agree with it or refuse. But her refusal, her categorical NO, was taken for granted by the students and staff.
After chatting, the children went to their rooms. It was late, and tomorrow was a difficult day. In addition, we still had to come up with congratulations for each other. Hall and Byrne got to congratulate Lee and Vivian. Hall was lucky. For a long time he had been eyeing the fragile, slightly Chinese-looking Li. But Bern was offended. Most of all, he didn't want to get Vivian, with whom he didn't get along. Not a day passed without them touching each other with at least a caustic word or an ironic grin. Hall quickly came up with a congratulatory message for Lee. He composed a short poem for her, which for him was sheer nonsense. For all his practicality and prudence, by nature he was given an amazing ability to rhyme everything that could come to mind. Once, during a biology lesson, he answered a homework paragraph in poetry. Biology teacher Mrs. Lanjou, listening to Hall's outpourings, looked at the textbook in surprise and could not understand where Hall had dug up Morgan's poetic law on the crossing of species. The law, of course, made a few mistakes, but the impeccability of the verse captivated the biology major.
If Hall had everything ready, then Bern decided to postpone everything until the morning. Lying in bed, he looked at the ceiling and thought about something. Hall had been snoring for a long time on the next bed. Bern couldn't sleep.
“Hall,” he called to his friend. The only answer was a grunt.
“Hall,” Bern called louder.
- What do you want? – Hall, awakened, tossed and turned in his bed.
- Are you sleeping?
“I’m sleeping,” Hall muttered, turning over on his other side.
“Listen, Hall,” Bern continued, ignoring his roommate’s grumbling. “It seems to me that Miss Bourne is hiding something from us.”
“Sleep,” Hall muttered.
“You saw how her face changed when the quiet one asked her about our parents.”
“It’s none of our business,” Hall snapped. - Sleep.
“Interesting,” Bern continued. – Why are we never allowed to leave school alone?
“Because we have nothing to do there,” realizing that Bern would not let him sleep, Hall crawled out from under the blanket and sat down on the bed.
- How do you know? – Bern was surprised.
– Miss Bourne said.
- And you believe her?
“I don’t know,” Hall shrugged his shoulders in confusion. “But since she said so, that means it is so.” Sleep.
Hall lay down again and turned to the wall, pulling the blanket over his head. Bern fell silent.
“Hall,” it was heard again from the next corner.
- Well, what else do you want? “Hall started to get angry.
– Have you prepared a gift for Lee?
- Yes! Sleep.
“But I don’t know what to give to Vivian,” Bern addressed himself rather than a friend. “I can’t stand her, and she can’t stand me either.” And as luck would have it, I got to congratulate her. It's a pity that I can't write poetry like you. I would write this to her! Hall, maybe I should give her a frog? She is terribly afraid of them. Imagine how fun it will be. She unwraps the gift. And from there the frog - jump. And right at her. What fun!
“Listen,” Hall snapped. -Give me whatever you want, just let me sleep!
Bern sighed heavily.
- Hall, do you remember your parents? – Bern raised his voice again.
“I didn’t have them,” Hall muttered dissatisfied.
“But you were born somehow,” Bern continued.
- So what of this?
- Just. You know, sometimes at night I have the same dream. It’s as if I’m in some room with blue wallpaper, and a woman with lush blond hair is leaning over me. And I, little one, lie in the crib, stretching out my hands to her. She smiles at me. And suddenly everything disappears. Everything is so distinct, so clear, as if in reality, and not in a dream. Hall, can you hear me? Hall. Does not hear. Sleeping. Well, let him sleep.
Bern turned over and soon fell asleep.
In the morning after breakfast, everyone scattered to their rooms to dress up and prepare for the holiday. Hall spent a long time fiddling around in the mirror, smoothing out the unruly cowlick on his head. He wrote the poem he had prepared for Lee on a pink piece of paper and decorated it with an intricate monogram. Bern agonized over a gift for Vivian. He didn’t want to give her anything at all, but he couldn’t leave her without a gift either. After some thought, he took the first book he came across from the shelf.