Read Online Land of Heart's Desire by Catherine Airlie - Free Book Online
Authors: Catherine Airlie
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islands dotted along the horizon like a phantom armada drifting idly in the sun. There was no reason for her to turn back, no urgent demand on her time, as there would surely be in a day or two, so that she walked leisurely, finding herself, at last, within sight of the ford and the causeway which divided north from south.
The tide was out and the narrow neck of land glistened in the sun. How often she had run across it, skipping lightly from one sea-worn stone to the next, aware of the tide’s swift challenge as it came slowly in again!
In those days Scoraig and Ardtornish had been her second home.
Impulsively, unthinkingly, she ran down the path and out on to the causeway. It was broken and dangerous in places, but she did not notice. The years seemed to be slipping away from her and she knew a child-like abandonment to adventure. When she had missed the tide in the old days she had stayed at Scoraig overnight, sure of her welcome at Ardtornish House whenever she liked to go there.
Shining back from the wet patches of stone, the sun was dazzlingly bright and the water was very blue. The world seemed particularly her own, wide and stretching away endlessly on either side. For a moment she paused, looking back, but there was no consciousness of trespass in her heart. It was a day to be alone, with the sea birds and the high winds and the white clouds circling round Askaval!
Once more she was running, with the wind in her hair and the salt tang of spray on her lips. The tide was out and the white sand was jewelled with pools, left behind by the sea. In them were a million treasures—sea-anemones and delicately-tinted shells and little scuttling white crabs—and above them the gulls circled, crying endlessly. Far up on the cliff top the grass was very green.
There was a path up there, a right of way to Scoraig village, which went close along the edge of the cliff, high and free above the rocks two hundred feet below. When they were children, to sit up there had been like being on the prow of a ship.
She reached the other side of the ford. It was years since she had come this way to Scoraig, but nothing had changed. Each curve of the path was known to her, each breathtaking view that met her by the way.
Clambering across the rocks, she found the path which led upwards towards the cliff. It had been little used, she supposed, since the new road had been made, the road that went straight across the fields to Scoraig. In an hour, if she had been going to Ardtornish House to visit the Nicholsons as she had done so often in the past, she could be in the Ardtornish policies.
She thought of the new owner of Ardtornish and dismissed him summarily from her mind. It was not a day for conflicts or even for doubts about the impulses of the past. It was a day to walk and be free, with the wind blowing strongly against you as the path rose steeply to the summit of the headland—
And stopped abruptly! She found herself confronted by a barred stile and a notice bearing the bold, black lettering NO ROAD.
For several minutes she stared at the sign in bewilderment, which was swiftly followed by incredulity. No road? But there always had been a road along the cliff, right round the island. It was an ancient right of way whose origin went back hundreds of years, so that no one really knew who had granted it in the first place—Nicholsons or MacNeills.
And now there was a notice which said, quite baldly, that the well-worn path was closed.
She could not believe it, and for a moment longer she continued to stare. She knew, without doubt, who had put the notice up there and barred the stile.
Overwhelming anger took possession of her. How dared he do such a thing! It had never been done before, and for a complete stranger to walk in and bar the whole population of Croma from a favourite walk was insufferable. Finlay Sutherland had no more right to erect that notice board than she had to close the facilities of Port-na-Keal to the
The tide was out and the narrow neck of land glistened in the sun. How often she had run across it, skipping lightly from one sea-worn stone to the next, aware of the tide’s swift challenge as it came slowly in again!
In those days Scoraig and Ardtornish had been her second home.
Impulsively, unthinkingly, she ran down the path and out on to the causeway. It was broken and dangerous in places, but she did not notice. The years seemed to be slipping away from her and she knew a child-like abandonment to adventure. When she had missed the tide in the old days she had stayed at Scoraig overnight, sure of her welcome at Ardtornish House whenever she liked to go there.
Shining back from the wet patches of stone, the sun was dazzlingly bright and the water was very blue. The world seemed particularly her own, wide and stretching away endlessly on either side. For a moment she paused, looking back, but there was no consciousness of trespass in her heart. It was a day to be alone, with the sea birds and the high winds and the white clouds circling round Askaval!
Once more she was running, with the wind in her hair and the salt tang of spray on her lips. The tide was out and the white sand was jewelled with pools, left behind by the sea. In them were a million treasures—sea-anemones and delicately-tinted shells and little scuttling white crabs—and above them the gulls circled, crying endlessly. Far up on the cliff top the grass was very green.
There was a path up there, a right of way to Scoraig village, which went close along the edge of the cliff, high and free above the rocks two hundred feet below. When they were children, to sit up there had been like being on the prow of a ship.
She reached the other side of the ford. It was years since she had come this way to Scoraig, but nothing had changed. Each curve of the path was known to her, each breathtaking view that met her by the way.
Clambering across the rocks, she found the path which led upwards towards the cliff. It had been little used, she supposed, since the new road had been made, the road that went straight across the fields to Scoraig. In an hour, if she had been going to Ardtornish House to visit the Nicholsons as she had done so often in the past, she could be in the Ardtornish policies.
She thought of the new owner of Ardtornish and dismissed him summarily from her mind. It was not a day for conflicts or even for doubts about the impulses of the past. It was a day to walk and be free, with the wind blowing strongly against you as the path rose steeply to the summit of the headland—
And stopped abruptly! She found herself confronted by a barred stile and a notice bearing the bold, black lettering NO ROAD.
For several minutes she stared at the sign in bewilderment, which was swiftly followed by incredulity. No road? But there always had been a road along the cliff, right round the island. It was an ancient right of way whose origin went back hundreds of years, so that no one really knew who had granted it in the first place—Nicholsons or MacNeills.
And now there was a notice which said, quite baldly, that the well-worn path was closed.
She could not believe it, and for a moment longer she continued to stare. She knew, without doubt, who had put the notice up there and barred the stile.
Overwhelming anger took possession of her. How dared he do such a thing! It had never been done before, and for a complete stranger to walk in and bar the whole population of Croma from a favourite walk was insufferable. Finlay Sutherland had no more right to erect that notice board than she had to close the facilities of Port-na-Keal to the
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