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diff --git a/38197.txt b/38197.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c000492 --- /dev/null +++ b/38197.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11960 @@ +Project Gutenberg's The Twa Miss Dawsons, by Margaret Murray Robertson + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Twa Miss Dawsons + +Author: Margaret Murray Robertson + +Release Date: December 3, 2011 [EBook #38197] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TWA MISS DAWSONS *** + + + + +Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England + + + + +The Twa Miss Dawsons +By Margaret Murray Robertson +Published by Hodder and Stoughton, 27 Paternoster Row, London. +This edition dated 1880. + +The Twa Miss Dawsons, by Margaret Murray Robertson. + +________________________________________________________________________ + +________________________________________________________________________ +THE TWA MISS DAWSONS, BY MARGARET MURRAY ROBERTSON. + +CHAPTER ONE. + +"AULD MISS JEAN." + +Saughleas was not a large estate, nor were the Dawsons gentlefolks, in +the sense generally accepted in the countryside. + +It was acknowledged that both the mother and the wife of the new laird +had had good blood in their veins; but George Dawson himself, had been, +and, in a sense, still was, a merchant in the High-street of Portie. He +was banker and ship-owner as well, and valued the reputation which he +had acquired as a business man, far more than he would ever be likely to +value any honour paid to him as the Laird of Saughleas. + +He had gotten his land honestly, as he had gotten all else that he +possessed. He had taken no advantage of the necessities of the last +owner, who had been in his power, in a certain sense, but had paid him +the full value of the place; and not a landed proprietor among them all +had more pride in the name and fame of his ancestry, than he had in the +feet that he had been the maker of his own fortune, and that no man, +speaking truth, could accuse him, in the making of it, of doing a single +mean or dishonest deed. + +His mother "had come o' gentle bluid," but his father had been first a +common sailor and then the mate of a whaling ship that sailed many a +time from the little Scottish east coast harbour of Portie, and which at +last sailed away never more to return. + +His widow lived through years of heart-sickness that must have killed +her sooner than it did, but that her two fatherless bairns needed her +care. They were but bairns when she died, with no one to look after +them but a neighbour who had been always kind to them. The usual lot +awaited them, it was thought. The laddie must take to the sea, as most +of the laddies in Portie did, and the lassie must get "bit and sup" here +and there among the neighbours, till she should be able to do for +herself as a servant in some house in the town. + +But it happened quite otherwise. Whatever the Dawsons had been in old +times, there was good stuff in them now, it was said. For "Wee Jean +Dawson," as she was called, with few words spoken, made it clear that +she was to make her own way in the world. She was barely fifteen at +that time, and her brother was two years younger, and if she had told +her plans and wishes, she would have been laughed at, and possibly +effectually hindered from trying to carry them out. But she said +nothing. + +The rent of the two rooms which the children and their mother had +occupied, was paid to the end of the year, and the little stock of pins +and needles, and small wares generally, by the sale of which the mother +had helped out the "white seam," her chief dependence, was not +exhausted, and Jean, declining the invitation of their neighbour to take +up their abode with her in the mean time, quietly declared her intention +of "biding where she was for a while," and no one had the right to say +her nay. Before the time to pay another quarter's rent came round, it +was ready, and Jean had proved her right to make her own plans, having +shown herself capable of carrying them out when they were made. + +How she managed, the neighbours could not tell, and they watched her +with doubtful wonder. But it was not so surprising as it seemed to +them. She was doing little more than she had been doing during the last +two years of her mother's life under her mother's guidance. She had +bought and sold, she had toiled late and early at the white seam, when +her mother was past doing much, and had made herself busy with various +trifles in cotton and wool, with crochet-needle and knitting-pins, when +white seam failed them, and that was just what she was doing now. + +And she went on bravely. She accepted offered favours gratefully, but +sooner or later, she always repaid them. If Bell Ray, the fishwife, +left a fresh haddock at the door as she passed, she was sure to carry +with her some other day a pair of little socks, or a plaything for the +bairnie at home. And if Mrs Sims, next door, kindly took the heaviest +part of the girl's washing into her hands, she got in return her Sunday +"mutch" starched and ironed and its broad borders set up in a way that +excited the admiring wonder of all. + +The two rooms were models of neatness as they had always been. George +was comfortably clothed, at least he was never ragged, he very rarely +went hungry, and he went to the school as regularly, and to as good +purpose, as the banker's son, or the minister's son, and was as obedient +to Jean as he had been to his mother in the old days. Jean was neat, +and more than neat in her black print frock and holland apron--it cannot +be said of the first half year that she was never hungry. For many a +time the portion set aside for the dinner of two was only enough for +one, and it cost Jean less pain to go without her share than to let the +growing laddie be stinted of his needed food. But after the first half +year, they had enough, and some to spare to those who had less, and much +as Jean sometimes needed money to add to her stock in trade, she had +been too wisely taught by her mother, not to know that a sufficient +quantity of simple and wholesome food was absolutely necessary for +health of body and of mind, and therefore necessary for success in life. + +Of course she was successful. In after years, when she used to go back +to this time in her thoughts and in her talk, she attributed her success +in business, chiefly to two things--her silence, and her determination +never to fall into debt. To the talk which "neebour folk" fell into in +her little shop, she listened, but she rarely added her word; and she so +ordered matters that it never became, as it very easily might have been, +a centre of gossip and a cause of trouble in the neighbourhood. As to +falling into debt, her determination against it hindered her for a +while; but when the "big" merchants of Portie came to know her and her +ways, they gave her the benefit of the lowest prices in sales, so +trifling to them, but so important to her. They helped her with advice, +and put some advantages as to fashions and fabrics in her way; and best +of all, when Geordie's schooling was supposed to be at an end, one of +them took him into his employment in a humble capacity indeed, but his +rise to the place of honour behind the counter, and then to the +book-keeper's desk, was more rapid than generally happens in such a case +as his. + +Before Jean was seven and twenty years of age, she and her brother were +equal partners in a fairly prosperous business established by her in the +High-street. After this fortune was secure in the course of time. + +They were equal partners for a good many years, but gradually, as their +resources increased, and new ways of employing energy and capital were +open to the brother, this was changed. With her usual prudence, Jean +refused to engage in risks which she had not sufficient knowledge to +guide or strength to control, and a change was made in their business +relations, and each continued to prosper in the chosen way. + +As time went on, Jean ruled well her brother's home and helped him in +many ways; but she did not, as had been predicted of her, grow into a +mere hard business woman--seeing nothing so clearly as the main chance, +and loving money itself better than the comfort that money may bring. +It was they who knew her least, or who knew her only in her capacity of +business woman, who feared this for her. The people who had watched and +wondered at her early efforts and success, the neighbours, and the +fisher wives who had exchanged kindly gifts with her in these days, did +not fear it, nor the "puir bodies" in the back streets and lanes of +Portie, who enjoyed the pickles o' tea and snuff, and the bits of +flannel that found their way to them from her hands, nor the mothers of +fatherless bairns who "won through sair straits," and got the better in +many a "sair fecht" with poverty and trouble by her help. + +Her silence and reserve, even to her friends--and she had many--looked +to those who were not specially her friends, like the coldness and +hardness that strengthens with the years. It was by deeds rather than +words that her strong and tender nature found expression, and those who +needed her help most, knew her best and trusted her most fully, and even +in the busiest time of her life, she saw enough of other people's cares +and sorrows, to remind her that there was something more needed in life +than money, or the good things that money could bring. + +And, when she ought to have been past "the like o' that," as she said to +herself, for she was not far from thirty, the wonderful gift of love was +given to her. And then, through her love, came the gift which God is +sure, sooner or later, to give to His own,--the gift of sanctified +trouble. + +There came to Portie in one of the ships in which her brother had an +interest, a lad--he looked scarcely more than a lad--sick with fever. +Accident brought him to George Dawson's house for a night, and in the +morning he was too ill to leave it. Through long weeks of suffering and +delirium, Jean nursed him, and cared for him, and saved him from death. +He was not a good young man. The wild words uttered in his wanderings, +proved this to Jean, only too clearly, and if he had gone away as soon +as he rose from his bed, he would have taken her interest and her good +will with him, and nothing more. But his convalescence was long and +tedious, and whatever his sins against himself and others might have +been, he was of a sweet and kindly nature, and a handsome and manly lad +withal. + +And of course it was the fairest side of his character that he showed to +Jean in these days. Not that he tried to hide his past follies and even +his sins from her. But it was his sorrow for them that he showed her, +and his longing to live a better life by her help; and what with his +penitence and his gentleness and his winning English ways, he wiled the +heart out of her breast before she was aware. And the love was mutual. +But whether he ever could have given to her all that she gave to him, +was doubtful to the only one who knew what had befallen her. + +To say that her brother was amazed at her love for a man so much younger +and mentally and morally so much beneath her, is to say little. He was +utterly dismayed. But he knew her strong and steadfast nature too well +to try to move her from her purpose. He only stipulated that there +should be time given to prove the young man's love, and to prove also +the firmness of his determination to live a new life. It was not a +severe test that he insisted on. One voyage the young man was to make, +and coming home with the good word of his captain and shipmates, no +difficulty should be put in the way of the marriage, strange as he +confessed the idea of such a marriage to be. It was to be a six months' +voyage only, and though Jean did not feel that such a sacrifice need be +made, she was yet willing to make it at the will of the brother whom she +loved. And so they parted. + +But six months passed, and then six more, and when three more had worn +away tidings came. Through these months of waiting Jean went in +silence, and when the captain's son came home--the only survivor of the +crew of the ship that had carried her heart and her hope away--and told +the story of their wreck on wintry seas, no one knew that she listened +and suffered as no widow of them all suffered for her cruel and utter +loss. + +Her lover's name was spoken with the rest, and it was told how brave he +had been and kindly, and how he had kept up the courage of the rest and +cheered them all to the last, and how the hardest and most careless of +the crew had planned together to beguile him into taking more than his +share of the food they had, because he was not strong like the rest, and +because they loved him. And Jean listened to it all, and never uttered +a word. Nor afterward did she open her lips even to her brother. He +tried to speak to her some vague words of comfort, as to its being God's +will, and all for the best, but she only put forth her hand to bid him +cease, and when he still would fain have spoken a word of his own sorrow +for her trouble she rose and went away, and it was many years before +either of them returned to the sorrow of that time. She lived through +her trouble, and she did not grow hard or bitter under it, as she might +have done if he had lived and forgotten her; and comfort came to her as +the years went on. + +It came to her in a strange way, her brother thought, and though he was +glad of its coming, it cost him some pain. The first, indeed the only, +danger of estrangement that ever came between the brother and sister +grew out of this. Not that there was any real danger even then; for +Jean was, in her silent and determined way, so soft and gentle and +unprovokable in the new manner of thought and life into which she fell +at this time, that though her brother was both angry and ashamed, and +suffered both shame and anger to appear to her and to others, it made no +real breach between them. + +And he had cause for neither shame nor anger. It was only that weary of +herself and the drowsy ministrations of the parish kirk, Jean had +strayed one stormy Sabbath night into "a little kirkie" lately built in +a back street by "a queer kin' o' folk ca'ed missioners," and had there +heard words such as she had never heard before, and had found in them +more than comfort. + +Not that the words were altogether new, nor the thoughts,--they were in +her Bible, every one of them--she told her brother afterwards; but, for +one thing, they were earnestly spoken by one who believed them, and then +they came to one ready for them and waiting, though she knew it not. + +Ah! well, that does not explain it altogether. It was the Lord Himself +who spoke to her by the voice of His servant revealing Himself to her, +through His own familiar Word in a new way. After that she could say of +Him, "Whose I am and whom I serve," and her life took a new meaning. It +was His who "had bought her with a price." All that she had done +hitherto for pity's sake, she did now _for His sake_. "To one of the +least of these," He had said. The world was full of "these little ones" +of His, and there were some of them in Portie even, and henceforth they +were to be her care. + +Her outward life did not change much however. Except that at first she +"whiles" went to "the little kirkie," and afterwards went there +altogether, there was no difference that could be named by her little +world generally. Her brother saw a difference, and so did the poor folk +who shared her care and kindness. Her eye was brighter and her step +lighter, and the look of suffering she had lately worn was giving place +to a look of patient even cheerful peacefulness that was good to see. +She had more words, too, at her command. Not for her brother--at least +not for him at first. But the impulse which her new love for her Master +had given her, was strong enough to overcome the silence natural to her, +and "good words" gently and yet strongly spoken went with her gifts now, +and sometimes they were received as gladly as her gifts. But that she +should cast in her lot with the handful of "newfangled folk" in Stott's +Lane was a pain and a humiliation to her brother which it took years to +outlive. + +Their outward life went on as it had done before for a good while, and +then her brother married. His wife was of a family which had had a name +and a place in the countryside for generations; but George Dawson found +her earning her bread as a teacher in a school in Aberdeen, and married +her "for pure love," Portie folk said; and some who had known him best, +expected no such thing of George Dawson. + +It was doubtful whether his love for her or his pride in her was +strongest. He did not take her to the house above the shop where he and +his sister had lived so long, but to a fine house at the head of the +High-street in a far pleasanter part of the town, and there they began +their married life together. Jean did not go with them, though they +both wished it. It was better for them to be alone, she said, and as +well for her. So she staid still in the house above the shop, making a +home for the young men employed in the business, keeping a wise and +watchful eye on them and on the business also. After a few years, when +her sister-in-law became delicate, and there were little children +needing her care, she, with greater self-denial than any guessed, gave +up her independent life and went home to them for a while, and lightened +the mother's care for them and for the home as well, and found her +reward in knowing that her work was not vain. + +But when more years had passed, and her brother, a richer man than she +knew, bought the small estate of Saughleas, and took his family there, +she did not go with them. She was getting on in years, she was too old +to begin a new life in new circumstances, and the bairns were getting +beyond the need of her care. So she went to a home of her own that +looked out upon the sea, and set herself with wisdom and patience and +loving kindness to the work which her Master had given her to do. + +CHAPTER TWO. + +THE BROTHER'S SORROW. + +George Dawson had been very successful in life. He was not an old man +when he took possession of his estate of Saughleas. He had many years +before him in which to enjoy the fruit of his labours, he told himself, +and he exulted in the thought. + +What happy years the first years there were! His children were good and +bonny and strong; his wife was--not very strong--but oh! so sweet and +dear! What lady among them all could compare with her, so good and +true, so fair and stately, and yet so kindly and so well-beloved? + +"I will grow a better man to deserve her better," he said to himself +with a vague presentiment of change upon him--a fear that such happiness +could not last. For who was he, that he should have so much more than +other men had? So he walked softly, and did justly, and dealt +mercifully in many a case where he might have been severe with justice +on his side, and strove honestly and wisely to make himself worthy of +the woman who had been growing dearer day by day. + +Growing dearer? Yes--but who was slipping away from him, slowly, but +surely, day by day. He strove to shut his eyes to that which others +clearly saw, but deep down in his heart was the certain knowledge that +he must lose her. But not yet. Not for a long time yet. With care in +a warmer climate, under sunnier skies, she might live for years yet-- +many years. So he set himself to the task of so arranging his affairs, +that he might take her away for the winter at least, away from the bleak +sea winds to one of the many places where he had heard that health and +healing had come to many a one far more ill than she was. + +And if he could have got her away in time, who knows but so it might +have been. But illness came in amongst the children, and she would not +leave them even to the wise and loving care of their aunt; and when +first one, and then another little life went out, her husband could see +with a sinking heart, that she longed to follow where they had gone. + +When the other children grew better he took her away for a little while. +But the drawing of those little graves, and the longing to die at home +among those who were still left, brought them back to Saughleas--only +just in time. He did not lay her in the bleak kirkyard of Portie. He +_could_ not do it. It was a foolish thing to do, it was said, but in +the quietest, bonniest spot in Saughleas, in a little wood that lay in +sight of the house, he laid her down, when he could keep her no longer, +and by and by he lifted her bonny little bairns and laid them down +beside her. And then it seemed for a while that to him life was ended. + +But life was not ended. He had more to do, and more to suffer yet, and +indeed had to become a changed man altogether before he could be ready +and worthy to look again upon the face that he so longed to see. + +Oh, the length of the days! the weariness of all things! He used to +wonder at the sickness that lay heavy on his heart all day--at the +anguish that made the night terrible to him. He was growing an old man, +he said to himself, and he had thought it was only the young who strove +and suffered, and could not yield themselves to the misery of loss and +pain. But then--who, old or young, of all the men he had ever known, +had lost what he had lost? No wonder that he suffered and could find no +comfort. + +"Ay! No wonder that you suffer," said his sister to him once. "But +take tent lest ye add rebellion to the sin of overmuch sorrow. Have you +ever truly submitted to God's will all your life, think ye, George, man? +Things had mostly gone well and easily with ye. But now this has come +upon you, and take ye thought of it. For ye're no' out of God's hand +yet, and `whom He loveth He chasteneth.'" + +She did not speak often to him, but he heard her and made no answer. +That was Jean's way of looking at things, he thought; and because she +had had sore troubles of her own, he did not answer her roughly, as he +felt inclined to do. There was nothing to be said. + +He sent his two daughters away to be educated, first to Edinburgh and +afterwards to London, and after that, the house of Saughleas, except a +room or two, was shut up for a time. The father and son left it early +and returned to it late, and the father spent his days in working as +hard as ever he had done in the days when he was making his own way in +the world. The winter was hard to bear, but the coming of the +spring-time was even worse. Every bonny flower looked up at him with +the eyes of her he had lost; every bird, and breeze, and trembling leaf +spoke to him with her voice. The sunlight lying on her grave, the +still, soft air, the sweetness of the season,--all brought back on him +like a flood, the longing for her presence; and he must have gone away +or broken down altogether, if it had not been for his son George, his +only son. + +He was a handsome, kindly lad, more like his mother than any of his +bairns, and dearer than any of them to his father, because he was her +firstborn. George had mourned his mother deeply and truly, but her name +had never been spoken between them till on one of the first sunny days +of spring, the father found the son lying on his face among the long +withered grass that covered her grave. Sitting there then, lips and +hearts were opened to each other, and it was never so bad to either +after that. + +By and by hope sprang up in the father's heart, in the presence of the +son who was so like his mother, and so the weight of his heavy sorrow +was lightened. + +But there were folk in Portie, and his sister Jean was one of them, who +doubted whether the father was doing the best that could be done for his +son. He held a situation in the Portie Bank, and his father's intention +was, that he should there, and elsewhere, when the right time came, +acquire such a knowledge of business, as should enable him, if not to +make money for himself, at least to make a wise use of the money already +made for him. + +But his work was made easy to the lad, as was natural enough, by others +besides his father, and his comings and goings were not so carefully +noted, as if he had not been his father's son. He had time and money at +his disposal; not so very much of either, but more than any of his +companions had, and certainly more than was good for him. Not that he +fell into ill ways at this time, though that was said of him. That only +came afterwards; and it might have been helped, if his father had been +as wise then as he was determined with him afterwards. + +But that which raised his father's anger, was almost worse, to his +thought, than falling into ill ways, in the common acceptation of the +term, would have been. He might have spent money freely, even +foolishly, and his name might have been spoken with the names of men +whose society his father would have shunned or scorned, and he might +have been reproved and then forgiven. But that he should love and be +determined to marry a girl in humble life, the daughter of a sailor's +widow, and he not one and twenty, seemed to his father worse than folly +and even worse than sin. The father had never given a thought to any +woman except his sister, till he was thirty-five, and that his son, a +mere lad, should wish to marry any one, was a folly not to be tolerated. + +He blamed his sister in the matter, for bonny Elsie Calderwood was the +daughter of the man who had brought home to her the bitter tidings that +her lover was lost, and Jean had cared for and comforted his widow and +orphans when their turn came to weep for one who returned no more. But +he was wrong in this, for she had known nothing of the young man's +wishes, certainly she had never abetted him in his folly, as was said. +Indeed she had taken no thought of danger for him. "They were just a' +bairns thegither," she had said, "and had kenned one another all their +lives." + +For the Calderwood bairns had been the chosen companions of Geordie and +his sisters in the days when, openly scorning the attendance of +nursemaids, they had clambered over the rocks, and waded in the shallows +along the shore, and gathered dulse and birds' eggs with the rest of the +bairns of the town. When his sisters went away, after their mother's +death; the intimacy was naturally enough continued by George, and all +the more closely that he missed his sisters, and was oppressed by the +dreariness of the life at home. It was natural enough, though the +father could not see it so, and he spoke angrily and unwisely to his +son. + +But Mrs Calderwood was as proud in her way as Mr Dawson was in his, +and she scorned the thought of keeping the rich man's son to the promise +he had made without leave asked of her. She was also as hard in her way +as he was in his, and forbade the young man to enter her house, and gave +him no chance to disobey her. But in a place like Portie young folks +can meet elsewhere than at home, and one or other of them must be sent +away. + +So with Miss Jean's advice and help Elsie was sent to get a year at a +boarding-school, as was wise and right, all her friends in Portie were +given to understand. But she went away without giving back her promise +for all that her mother could say. She went cheerfully enough, "to make +herself fitter to be his wife," she said. But she never returned; a +slow strong fever seized her where she was, and first her mother went to +her, and then Miss Jean, whose heart was sore for them all. + +And then Miss Jean did what the mother never would have done. When she +saw that the end was drawing near, she wrote one letter to her nephew +telling him to come and take farewell of his love, and another to his +father telling him that so she had done. All this mattered little +however. For it was doubtful whether the dying girl recognised the +lover who called so wildly on her name. But she died in his arms, and +he went home with her mother and his aunt to Portie and laid her down in +the bleak kirkyard; and then he went away speaking no word to his +father, in his youthful despair and anger, indeed never looking on his +face. + +There had been something said, before all this came to pass between +them, of the lad's being sent to London for a while, to learn how +business was done in a great banking-house, one of the partners of which +was a friend of his father; and after a time he was heard of there. But +he did not write to his father directly, and he never drew a shilling of +the money that his father had deposited in his name. + +He did not stay long in his place in the London bank, but went away, +leaving no trace behind him, and was lost to them all; and it was long +before his name was spoken by his father again. Even Miss Jean, having +no words of comfort to put with it, never named to him the name of his +son, for whom she knew he was grieving with anger and pain unspeakable. +It was to be doubted, Jean thought, whether these days were not longer, +and drearier, and "waur to thole" than even the days that had followed +the death of the mother of the lad. + +But they had to be borne, and he left himself in these days little time +for brooding over his troubles. He devoted himself to business, with +all his old earnestness, and wealth flowed in upon him, and the fear was +strong in his sister's heart, that he was beginning, in the desolation +that had fallen upon him, to love it for its own sake. He added to +Saughleas a few fields on one side, and a farm or two on the other, +which the necessities of the owners had put into the market, at this +time; but it was more to oblige these needy men, than because he wanted +their land. He had the money in hand, he said indifferently to his +sister, and the land would ay bring its price. But he took little +pleasure in Saughleas for a while. + +When Geordie had been gone a year and more, his sisters came home from +school. They had been away long, and their father had, as he said, to +make their acquaintance over again. They had changed from merry girls +of fifteen and sixteen, into grown up young ladies,--"fine ladies" their +father called them to their aunt, and a good many people in Portie, +called them "fine ladies" also, for a while. They looked to be fine +ladies, with their London dresses, and London manners, and some folk +added, their "London pride." They held their heads high, and carried +themselves erect and firmly as they walked, and spoke softly and in +"high English," which looked like pride to some of their old friends, +who were more than half afraid of the young ladies of Saughleas, they +said. But it soon came to be known that what looked like pride was more +than half shyness, and as for the "high English," the kindly Scotch fell +very readily from their lips on occasion. + +It cannot be said that they made themselves very happy in Saughleas for +a time. They came home in November, and that is a dreary month on the +east coast, indeed all the winter is dreary there. There were gay +doings in the best houses in Portie to welcome them home, and they +enjoyed them well. For they had only been school-girls in London, and +the gayeties they had been permitted to mingle in there, had been mostly +of the kind which are supposed to blend improvement of some sort with +the pleasure to be enjoyed, and though they doubtless valued such +opportunities and made good use of them, both for pleasure and +improvement, the gayeties of Portie were quite different and more to +their taste. They were young and pretty and gay, and the kindness and +the admiration so freely bestowed on them were very pleasant to them +both. But they would have preferred the house in the High-street, where +they had all been born, in these first days, for their home. + +Saughleas was dull and dreary in the short winter days, and oh! how they +missed their mother! It was like losing her again, to come home to the +great empty house, which their father left almost before the sun rose +for weeks together, not to return again till the lamps had been lighted +for hours in the wide hall. + +And Geordie! When they had been at Saughleas a month or more, their +father had never spoken his name, and when Jean, the eldest and bravest +of the sisters, putting great force upon herself, asked him when her +brother was coming home, he answered so coldly, and with words so hard +and bitter, that her heart sank as she heard. They had known for some +time that something had gone wrong between them. Geordie had told them +that, when he had gone to see them in London; but the sad story of poor +Elsie Calderwood they had never heard. They mourned for their brother, +and longed for his coming home, thinking that the happy days that were +gone would come again with him. + +Though the estate of Saughleas was small, the house was both large and +stately. The last owner had put into the house, the money which should +have been given to enrich the land, and make a beginning of the +prosperity of the family which he had hoped to found. So it was like a +castle almost, but it was little like a home. + +The two or three great landed proprietors in the countryside were great +people in their own esteem, and in the general esteem also; and George +Dawson, notwithstanding Saughleas, was just the merchant and banker of +the High-street to them--a man much respected in his own place, and he +was not out of place on occasion, at the table of any of them all. But +an interchange of civilities on equal terms between the ladies of the +families was not likely to take place, nor was this greatly to be +desired. It might have been different if their mother had lived, they +said to one another; for in their remembrance of her, she was superior +in every way to any lady of them all. But they were quite content with +the society of Portie, and would have been content with the house in the +High-street as well. + +Mr Dawson asked his sister to come and live in his house when his +daughters came home, but she declined to do so. They did not need her +as mistress of the house, and she believed that her influence over them +would be more decided and salutary should she remain in her own house. +They were good bairns, she said, who meant to do right, and though they +might whiles need a word of advice, or a restraining touch, it must be +their own guidance that their father must lippen to, and not hers. And +Auntie Jean was right. + +They were good bairns on the whole, as their aunt said, and they were +"bonnie lassies" as well. The first idea that most people had on seeing +them, was that in person, mind, and manners, they were very much alike. +Even their father thought this at first. But it was not long before he +discovered that in most respects they were very different May, the +youngest, was like her mother, "though _nothing like_ so bonny," he told +himself with a sigh. Jean was like her aunt, it was said, but Auntie +Jean herself, and the two or three others who remembered Auntie Jean's +mother as she was before her husband's ship went down, said that the +elder sister was like her grandmother, who had been a far bonnier woman +than ever her daughter had been. + +In form and features there was a resemblance between the sisters; May +was the fairer and slighter of the two, and was often called the +prettier. But as time went on the resemblance did not increase. Jean +was the strongest in person and in mind, and the better able of the two +to profit by the discipline, which time and circumstances brought to +them both, and of this difference in character her face gave token to +those who had eyes to see. + +They loved each other, and were patient and forbearing with each other +when they did not quite agree as to the course which either wished to +pursue. But when it came about that one must yield her will to the +other, it was May who was made to yield when her will would have led her +into wrong or doubtful paths. But if pleasure were to be given up, or a +distasteful duty done, or if some painful self-denial had to be borne by +one so that the other might escape, such things generally fell to the +lot of Jean. + +CHAPTER THREE. + +A DREARY DAY. + +The folk looking out of their windows in Portie might well wonder what +could be bringing the young ladies of Saughleas into the town on such a +dismal day. Though April was come in, it might have been the wintriest +month of the year; for the wind that met them was dashing the wet sleet +in their faces, and tangling their bright brown curls about their eyes, +till laughing and breathless they were fain to turn their backs upon it +before they were half down the High-street. They were in shelter for a +little while as they crossed through a side street, but the wind met +them again as they went round a corner, and came close upon the sea. +They were going to their aunt's house and a few steps brought them to +the door; but for all the wind and the sleet, they did not seem in haste +to enter. They lingered, taking off their dripping cloaks and +overshoes. + +"Auntie will wonder to see us on such a day." + +"She'll wonder to see you. She kens that I am not afraid of wind or +rain." + +As they lingered the door opened. + +"Eh! Miss Dawson and Miss May. Is it you on sic a day? Wha would ha'e +expected to see you--and on your ain feet too. Wet enough they must +be." + +"We'll go to the kitchen, Nannie, and no' wet the carpet," said May; and +they staid there chatting with the maid for a minute or two. The +expected greeting met them at the parlour door. + +"Eh! bairns! Here on such a day!" + +"Papa had to come to the town," said Jean. + +"And so we thought we might as well come with him," said May. + +"Weel, ye're welcome anyway, and ye're neither sugar nor salt to be +harmed by a drop of rain. But come in by to the fire." + +But their tussle with the wind had made the fire unnecessary. + +"It's a good thing that your curls are no' of a kind that the rain does +ill with, May, my dear. But you might as well go up the stair and put +them in order now." + +"Oh! I needna care. We have only a minute to stay, and it's hardly +worth my while." + +"Papa went straight to the inn with the dog-cart, and we only walked +down the High-street. It _is_ a dreary day." + +"And we'll need to go to the inn and wait for him. For he said nothing +of coming here," said May. + +"But it's likely he'll come for all that. He maistly ay looks in. It's +a pity he came out on sic a day, and him no weel. But I suppose he had +to come. The `John Seaton' sails the day," said their aunt. + +The sisters gave a sudden involuntary glance at each other. May +reddened and laughed a little. Her sister grew pale. Their aunt looked +from one to the other, thinking her own thoughts, but she did not let +this appear. + +"She mayna sail the day. They have lost some of their men, it is said, +and that may hinder them." + +"And the wind and the waves are fearsome," said the elder sister with a +shiver. + +"Ay, but the wind is in the richt airt. That wouldna hinder them," said +her aunt; and then she added in a little. + +"Willie Calderwood goes as her first mate. That's a rise for him. I +hope he may show discretion. He's no' an ill laddie." + +"And he's on a fair way to be a captain now," said May. "So he told +me--in awhile." + +"Ay, in a while," said her aunt dryly. "But he has a long and dangerous +voyage before him, and it's no' likely that all who sail awa' the day +will ever come hame again." + +The eldest sister was standing with her face touching the window. + +"The sea looks fearsome over yonder," said she. + +"Ay. But they'll ha'e room enough when once they are outside the +harbour bar, and then the wind will drive them off the rocks and out to +sea; and they are in God's hands." + +"Auntie Jean," said the girl turning a pale face toward her, "why do you +say the like of that to-day?" + +"It's true the day as it's true ilka day. Why should I no' say it? My +dear, the thought of it is a consolation to many a puir body in Portie +the day." + +"But it sounds almost like a prophecy of evil to--to the `John Seaton,' +as you said it. And the sea is fearsome," repeated she, turning her +face to the window again. + +"Lassie, come in by to the fire. Ye're trembling with cold, and I dare +say ye're feet are no' so dry as they should be. Come in by and put +them to the fire." + +"But we havena long to bide." + +However she came at her aunt's bidding, and sat down on a stool, shading +her face with a paper that she took from the table. + +"Auntie Jean," said May, "I have seen just such a picture in a book, as +you would make if you were painted just as you are, with your hands +folded on your lap, and your stocking and your ball of worsted beside +you, and your glasses lying on the open book. Look, Jeannie, look at +auntie. Is she not like a picture as she sits now?" + +"What's the lassie at now, with her picturing and her nonsense?" said +her aunt, not sure whether she should be pleased with all this. "I'm +just as usual, and so is the room. No more like a picture than on other +days." + +She was in full dress--according to her ideas of full dress--and she was +that every day of the year. She had on a gown of some soft black stuff, +the skirt of which was partly covered by a wide black silk apron. A +snowy kerchief was pinned across her breast, and fastened at her neck +with a plain gold brooch, showing a braid of hair of mingled black and +grey. Her cap was made in the fashion worn by the humblest of her +countrywomen, but it was made of the finest and clearest lawn, and the +full "set up" borders were edged with the daintiest of "thread" lace, +and so were the wide strings tied beneath her chin. Not a spot nor a +speck was visible upon it, or upon any part of her dress, nor indeed on +any article which the room contained. She and her room together would +have made a picture homely and commonplace enough, but it would have +been a pleasing picture, with a certain quaint beauty of its own. + +"It is that you are so peaceful in here always, and untroubled. That is +what May means when she says it is like a picture in a book. And after +the wind, and the sleet, and the stormy sea, it is quieting and restful +to look in upon you." + +"Weel, maybe. But it is the same picture ilka day o' the year, and I +weary of it whiles. And the oftener you look in upon it, the better it +will be for me. What ails the lassie? Canna ye bide still by the +fire?" + +For Jean had risen from her low seat, and was over at the window again. + +"The clouds are breaking away. It is going to be fair, I think. We'll +need to be going, May, or we may be late. I'll come over to-morrow, +auntie, and good-bye for to-day." + +"But, lassie, what's a' your haste? Your father will be sure to come +for you. Bide still where you are." + +"I think I'll bide still, anyway," said May. "I am no' going, Jeannie. +I'm no' caring to go." + +"Yes, you are coming with me," said her sister sharply. "You must come. +I want to speak to you--and--yes, come away." + +May pouted and protested, but she followed her sister to the kitchen +where they had left their cloaks, and they went away together. They +kept for a while in the shelter of the houses nearest the sea, but they +did not speak till they were beyond these. The wind was still high, but +neither rain nor sleet was falling, and they paused a minute to take +breath before they turned to meet it again. + +"The `John Seaton' sails the day," said May, turning her laughing face +toward her sister. Jean did not laugh. "As though that werena the very +thing that brought us both out as well as papa, though we said nothing +about it before we came. To the high rocks? But it would be more +sensible like to go to the pier head, and then we might get a chance to +shake his hand and say God bless him. And it's not too late yet." + +"No, I'm no' going. It would do no good and it would anger my father." + +But May persisted. + +"Why shouldna we be there as well as half the town? Papa mightna like +it, but he couldna help it, if we were once there. And ye ken ye never +said good-bye to Willie Calderwood." + +"May," said her sister, "when did you see Willie? I mean, when did he +tell you that he was to be first mate of the `John Seaton,' and maybe +captain by and by?" + +"Oh! I heard that long ago, and I saw him last night. He came a bit of +the way home with me. He would have come all the way to say good-bye to +you, but he had something to do, that couldna be put off. And I'm sure +he'll expect to see you at the pier to-day." + +"But I canna go." + +And then she added--"Well, and what more did he say?" + +"Oh! what should he say? He said many a thing. He told me if I would +stand on the high rocks above the Tangle Stanes and wave my scarlet +scarf when the `John Seaton' was sailing by, he would take it as a sign +of good luck, and that he would come safe home again, and get his +heart's wish." + +"And we are going there." + +"Oh! I dinna ken. It's cold, and the ship mayna sail, and we might +have to wait. I'm not going." + +"Did he say that to you? Yes, you are going. Do you mean that you +would let him be disappointed at the very last, and him taking it for a +sign?" + +"But the mist is rising, and it's all nonsense--and he winna see." + +"Where is your scarlet shawl? Did you no' bring it?" + +"Oh! yes. I brought it fast enough," said May, laughing and lifting her +dress, under which the shawl was fastened. "As we were going to Auntie +Jean's I thought it as well to keep it out of sight. But, Jean, it is +wet and cold, and he was only half in earnest." + +"How could he speak out all that he wanted to say, kenning my father! +But you must go." + +"Go yourself. He'll never ken the difference." + +"No, he'll never ken the difference. But when he comes home--what will +you say to him then? And besides it was your being there that was to be +the sign of his safe coming home--and--his getting his heart's wish. +You are coming." + +They turned their steps northward, in the direction of a high ledge of +rocks, that half a mile above the harbour jutted out into the sea. It +was this point both had been thinking of when they left home, for they +well knew that the young ladies from Saughleas could not, on such a day, +go to loiter on the pier with all the town, just to see a whaling ship +set sail for northern seas. If the day had been fine, they might have +gone with a chance companion or two to see what was to be seen, and to +while away an hour. Even in the wind and sleet Jean might have gone +with her father, if the ship had not been the "John Seaton," or if +Willie Calderwood had not been on board. But as it was, she could not +even name such a thing to her father. He would have been angry, and it +would have done no good. + +So it was to the rocks above the Tangle Stanes they must go. If the day +had been fine, there would have been other folk there, and many a signal +would have been given as the ship went by. But they had the high +desolate rocks to themselves when they had clambered up at last, and it +was all they could do to keep their footing upon it, for the wind which +had met them so fiercely even on the level, raged here with tenfold +violence. + +And there was no sign of the ship. There was nothing but great wild +waves rising and falling as far as they could see, and masses of white +foam here and there, where they broke themselves on half hidden rocks +beneath. There was no sign of life except that now and then a solitary +sea-gull shrieked sadly through the blast. + +"Eh! but it's dreary and cold," said May with a shudder. + +"Go down to yon sheltered nook and bide there till I tell you that she +is coming." + +"But it's a' nonsense, Jean. She mayna come at all, as auntie said." + +"Since we're here, we'll bide a while:" So May went down to the +sheltered nook, and wrapping her cloak about her, she took from her +pocket a biscuit or two with which she had providently supplied herself, +and prepared to wait with what patience she could till her sister chose +to go. And Jean, unable to stand still in the bitter wind, struggled up +and down the narrow limits of the ledge,--not thinking--hardly feeling-- +for she needed all her power to keep her footing on the slippery rock-- +only waiting for the ship. + +She came in sight at last, but, driven by the wind, as soon as she was +beyond the harbour bar, she drifted so far to the eastward, that it was +doubtful whether any signal from those on shore could be seen on board. + +"Are you coming, May? Haste you," cried Jean, and while her sister +lingered, she let the long shawl float its full length on the wind. At +the moment the clouds parted, and a sudden gleam of sunshine lighted the +rock and the girlish figure, and the waving signal which she held. It +was but for a moment. Before May had clambered to her side, the clouds +met again, and dimness and dreariness were over all. + +"Take it, May. It is you he is thinking of now when he sees it. He +must have seen it when the sun shone out. Take it, and hold it fast." + +"It is easy said, hold it fast, and it's all nonsense," said May +pettishly, and from her uncertain fingers the wind caught the scarlet +signal, and carried it out to sea. + +"My shawl!" gasped May. "My bonny scarlet shawl?" + +"It's an ill omen, I doubt," said Jean in a whisper. "But never mind +the shawl; you shall have my bonny blue one instead. And now we may go +home." + +"It is all folly from first to last," said May. "And what I am to say +about my shawl, I canna tell." + +"Say nothing. Who has a right to ask? And, May, I think I'll walk +home--to warm myself, for I am cold." She looked cold and could not +keep herself from trembling. "Go back to Auntie Jean's. My father will +be sure to seek us there, and I'll be home before you." + +May was not sure of the wisdom of consenting to meet her father without +her sister, lest he might ask any questions as to how they had spent the +afternoon. But hoping that she might get to her aunt's house before +him, she hurried away, scarcely remembering till she sat beside her +aunt's pleasant fire, that she had left her sister standing there on the +desolate wind-swept height. + +And there she stood while the ship went slowly on its northern way, +"carrying her life with it," she said to herself, in vague wonder at the +utter faintness of heart, and weariness of body which had fallen upon +her. + +"What has come to me?" she muttered. "What is Willie Calderwood to me, +but a friend? He has ay been that, and ay will be, and if he is more to +my bonny May--why that makes him more to me--and not less, surely. And +friends must part. There is many a sair heart in Portie the night--and +folk man just thole whatever is sent, and say nothing. And oh! if +Geordie would but come home?" + +Again the clouds parted, and a gleam of sunshine touched the water, +giving her one more glimpse of the white sails of the ship before she +went down to the north, and then there was but "the fearsome waves of +the sea," from which she could scarcely turn her dazed eyes. But she +had to take her way down the steep rocks, and through the wet fields, +the near way home. She lingered and walked wearily, and it was growing +dark when she went in at the gate. + +"Is it you, Miss Dawson?" said a voice in the darkness. "Has any thing +happened? Are ye your lane?" + +"Nothing has happened. I preferred to walk. Are they not come yet?" + +"Nobody has come yet, Miss Dawson, and there has been nobody here but +Robbie Saugster, wantin' a book that you promised him--or Miss May maybe +it was," said Phemie. "You were hardly awa' ere he was here, and he +said he'd come back the morn." + +Jean sat down wearily in the hall. + +"I am wet and tired," said she. + +"I was sure you would be that," said Phemie, "and I made a bit fire in +your ain room, and I'll bring warm water and bathe your feet in a jiffy. +No wonder you are tired." + +"That was well done. They cannot be long now in coming. I'll go and +make myself ready, and have the tea made at once." + +Phemie was up with the warm water almost as soon as her mistress. + +"Eh! Miss Dawson, but you are white and spent looking. It's the heat, +I dare say, after being in the cold." + +She knelt and took off her shoes and stockings, and bathed her weary +feet with kindly care, and Jean let her do as she would, saying nothing +for a while. + +"I'm better now. Yes, it must have been coming into the warm room after +the cold of the afternoon. Thank you, Phemie, that is comfortable. I +will be down in a minute now." + +She was sitting behind the urn with a book in her hand when her father +came in. + +"You are late, papa." + +"Yes--too late--too late," said he, and then he sat down by the fire +without taking off his greatcoat or the heavy plaid which was on his +shoulders above it. + +"Something has happened," said Jean to herself. But she knew he would +not in his present mood answer her questions. She rose and took the +plaid and his hat, and carried them away. Then she helped him to take +off his coat. He did not resist her, but he did not speak, and by the +time he was seated at the table, May came down. Her sister met her at +the door, asking softly,-- + +"What has happened to my father?" + +"Has any thing happened? I do not know. I waited at auntie's till I +was weary, and then I went to Jamieson's, and waited there. He came at +last, but he has not opened his lips all the way home." + +And he did not open his lips during the meal. He ate and drank as +usual, and as usual took his notebook from his pocket when he was done, +and turned the leaves and wrote a word or two. He was scarcely more +silent than was his wont, but there was a look on his face that Jean had +seen only once or twice upon it--a look at once grieved and angry, of +which she had learned to be afraid. She longed to ask him if any new +trouble had befallen him, but she did not dare to ask, and she sat in +silence with her work in her hands till Phemie appeared at the door. + +"If you please, Miss Dawson, will you speak here a minute. It's Robbie +Saugster again." + +Jean rose and went out of the room, conscious that her father's eye +followed her, with something of suspicion in its glance. She went into +the room where her father's books and papers were kept, and in a minute +Phemie ushered in a boy who looked as though he had had the benefit of +all the wind and the rain that had fallen through the day. He waited +till Phemie had shut the door, and then he said: + +"It is this I was bidden give you, Miss Jean. I cam' afore, and then I +looked for ye on the pier and a' way, but I couldna see ye, and I doubt +it's ower late for an answer new." + +He offered her a soiled and crumpled note, which she read at a glance +and put in her pocket. + +"What is this about a book that I promised you, Robbie?" she asked. + +"Oh! ay, Miss Dawson. I had to tell Phemie something. And I'll be glad +o' an orra book or two, as I'm goin' to the school--a count-book or +maybe a Latin grammar. But I'll come back for it again." + +"Wait a minute, Robbie," said Jean. She went into the parlour again +where her father was sitting. + +"May, what is this about a book for Robbie Saugster? Did you promise +him one? He says he is going to the school." + +"A book? I dinna mind. Maybe I did. What kind of a book was it? I +canna look it out to-night, I am too tired." + +The father's eyes had gone from one to the other with eager scrutiny. + +"There are old school books enough, and I'll tell him that you'll look +them out to-morrow." + +"You should have had them ready, no' to keep the laddie coming back +again," said her father sharply. + +"I didna mind about it, and I dare say Jean promised as well as me," she +answered pettishly. + +"Mind next time then; and, Jean, tell Phemie to give the laddie his +supper before he goes home." + +"Yes, papa," said Jean as she shut the door. + +"Something has happened and he was watching. It is about poor Geordie, +and I'm not sure whether I should tell him or not I must think about it +first." + +Robbie got his supper, and the promise of the books, and then Jean came +in and sat down with her work at her father's side, working quietly and +busily as usual, but all the time putting a strong restraint upon her +thoughts lest she should betray herself unawares by look or sign. May, +weary with the exertion of the afternoon, by and by fell asleep in her +chair. + +"Bid them come ben to worship, and let the lassie go to her bed," said +her father. + +When worship was over, Jean folded her work, saying she was weary too. +"Unless you may want any thing, papa," said she turning before she +reached the door. + +He looked at her a moment as if in doubt, and then he said shortly, "I +want nothing," and Jean went away to let herself think over it all. + +"No answer!" said she as she took the note from her pocket again. A +leaf torn from an account-book it seemed to be. She spread it before +her on the table; there were only a few words written on it. + +"Miss Dawson,-- + +"If it is possible, come to the pier head before the `John Seaton' +sails. Maybe the sight of you will do what no persuasion of mine can +do. But no ill shall come to Geordie that I can keep from him. Come at +all risks. + +"Your humble servant,-- + +"W.C." + +"And I might have been there, if I had but known. What will he think of +me? And can it be that Geordie has sailed on the `John Seaton'? No +wonder that my heart grew sick as the ship went out of sight. And oh +how can I ever tell my father?" + +CHAPTER FOUR. + +SAUGHLEAS. + +Saughleas with the June sunshine felling on it was a very different +place from Saughleas under the "drip, drip" of winter rain and sleet, +with the wind moaning or roaring through the bare boughs of its +sheltering beeches. + +The house was plain and heavy looking. It stood too near the road for +so large a house, it was said, and it was so high that it made all the +trees--except the few great beeches--look smaller than they would have +looked elsewhere. But it was built of the cheerful looking reddish +granite of the neighbourhood, and with its green adornment of +honeysuckle and climbing roses and its low French windows opening on the +little terrace above the lawn, it looked in summer-time a handsome and +homelike dwelling. + +There were many trees about it--fruit trees, elms, and poplars, Norway +spruces, and Scotch firs; but most of them had been planted within the +last fifteen years, and trees on this east coast--like the children in +the song--"take long to grow." The beeches, seven in number, were both +old and beautiful--so beautiful and so stately amid the dwarfs around +them that they, and not the wavering line of Saughs or willows that +followed the margin of the burn running through the long low fields, it +was sometimes said, should have given a name to the place. + +There was a narrow belt of wood behind the house which had been planted +long ago, and even in it the trees were not very large. But it was a +very pretty spot, a real wood, where up through the undisturbed dead +leaves of autumn came snowdrops and violets and primroses in the spring. +Between this wood and the house was a field of grass, which was not cut +smoothly every day or two like the lawn in front, but was allowed to +grow tall and strong till the right time came to cut it down for hay. +Through this field a gravelled walk led down to "The Well"; a clear, +unfailing spring at the edge of the wood, and to a moss-covered stone +seat beside it. + +Beyond this a narrower path led through the grass and the last year's +dead leaves into the heart of the wood, where, in a circular space, +large enough to let the sunlight in though the trees had been higher, +lay "Mary Keith, beloved and honoured wife of George Dawson," with her +little children at her side. Here the turf was soft and green, but +there was no adornment of shrub or flower on the grave or near it, only +a simple headstone of grey granite and near it a turf seat, over which +the slender boughs of a "weeping birch" hung sadly down. + +Beyond the wood were the low fields through which the Saugh burn ran. +Parks they were called, but they were just long grassy fields, with +rough stone walls round them, and cows and sheep feeding in them. There +was no "Park," in the grand sense of the term, about Saughleas as yet. +There was no space for one without appropriating some of the best fields +from the leased farms, and if things had gone right with him, that might +have been done in time, Mr Dawson sometimes said to himself with a +sigh. + +But things had not gone right with him of late. Any thing but that--if +one might judge from the look of care and pain, that had become almost +habitual to him now. + +"George, man, is it worth your while to wear your life away gathering +gear that ye dinna need, when ye might be enjoying what ye have in this +bonny place?" + +"It _is_ a bonny place," was all he said in reply. + +They were sitting, not on the lawn, but on the other side of the drive, +where the sunshine was softened by the fluttering beech leaves overhead. +At least, Miss Jean was sitting there. Her brother was "daundering" up +and down the walk with his hands clasped behind him, as his way was, +lingering a little, now at the gate and now at his sister's side. He +had forgotten her for the moment, as he stood looking out toward the +distant sea, and the look which his daughter had come to know well, but +which his sister was seldom suffered to see, came to his face and rested +on it still when he turned along the walk again. And so he spoke. + +"It _is_ a bonny place," he answered, and then he walked away. But +though he let his eyes wander over the gardens and the wood, and the +fields beyond, there came to his face no glad look of possession or +self-gratulation, and his head drooped lower and his step lagged as he +drew near her again. He stood silent at her side, as though he expected +her to say more, but she said nothing. + +"It _is_ a bonny place," said he again, "though it has given me but +little pleasure as yet, and whiles I think that I am near done with it-- +and--there's none to come after me." + +"George, man! that's an ill thing to say." + +"But it's true for a' that God knows I was thinking little of myself +when I put the winnings of my whole life into the land. And what is +likely to come of it? Ye might weel say, Jean, that God's blessing +hasna been upon it." + +"No, I would never say that." + +He took his way down the walk again, and went quite round the broad +lawn, and she had time for a good many troubled thoughts before he came +back. + +"I doubt ye're overworking yourself, George," said she. She put out her +hand to draw forward a garden chair that stood beyond her, and he did +not refuse it, as she was afraid he might, but sat down beside her. +"Where are the girls?" asked he. "They are busy up the stair--about +May's dress, I think. But there is nothing to hinder them coming, if +ye're wanting them." + +"No. I'm no' wanting them. I have something to say to you, and I shall +find no better time. I am going to make a new will." + +"Well?" + +"I have waited long, but if any thing were to happen to me, there would +be endless trouble--if--unless--" He paused a moment and then added, "I +know not well what to do." + +"Need ye do any thing at once?" + +"I think I should. Life is uncertain, though mine may be no more so +than that of other men. But no man should put off settling his affairs, +for the sake of those that are to come after him. I wish to do justly, +but I will not divide the land, and I will not burden it." + +"No, it wouldna be weel to divide the land nor to burden it," said Miss +Jean. + +There was a long silence and then Mr Dawson said gravely, felling into +the Scottish tongue as he and the rest of them were apt to do when much +moved. + +"Gin ony stranger were to go through Portie the day and speir at ane and +anither up and doon the street, as to who had been the successful man o' +these pairts for the last five and twenty years or mair, there's little +doubt whose name would be given them. And yet--my life looks and feels +to me the day--awfully like a failure." + +The shock which his unexpected words gave his sister was not all pain. +She had thought him only too well content with his life and with what he +had done in it. He was going down the hill now. It was well that he +should acknowledge--that he should even be made sharply to feel, that +all that he had--though it were ten times more--was not enough for a +portion. But the bitter sadness of his look smote her painfully. + +"God help him!" she said in her heart, but to him she said nothing. He +did not take her silence for want of sympathy. He was too well +acquainted with her ways for that, and in a little he added,-- + +"Like other folk I have heard o', I have gotten my wish, but all that +made it worth the having has been taken from me. Gin she had lived--" + +His sister did not speak. She just laid her hand on his for a moment, +and looked at him with grave, wet eyes. + +"If she had lived," he went on, not yielding to the weakness that had +come upon, him, "if she had lived, the rest might have been hindered." + +"God knows," said Miss Jean softly, taking up her knitting again. + +"Ay, He knows, but I dinna seem to be able to tak' the good o' that that +some folk do. But good or no good, I man submit--like the lave." + +"Here are the bairns," said Miss Jean softly as the two sisters came +through one of the open windows to the terrace about the lawn--"a sight +worth seeing" the father in the midst of his painful thoughts +acknowledged. They lingered a moment in the terrace raised a little +above the lawn, the one stooping over a bonny bush of wee Scotch roses +at her feet, the other standing on tiptoe trying to entangle a wandering +spray of honeysuckle that it might find support. The eyes of father and +aunt could not but rest on them with pleasure. + +"I wonder that I ever could have thought them so much alike," said their +father, in a little. + +"They're like and they're no' like," said Miss Jean. + +They were even less alike than they had been that day when they had +startled her coming in on her out of the storm. Their dress had +something to do with it doubtless. May wore something white and fluffy, +with frills and flounces and blue ribbons, and her brown curls were +bound back by a snood of blue. She was in her simple finery as fair and +sweet a picture of a young maiden as one could wish to see. + +Jean was different. Her dress was made of some dim stuff that looked in +the distance like brown holland. A seafaring friend of her father's had +brought it to her from India, her aunt remembered, and it came into her +mind that perhaps there had not been enough of it, to make the frills +and flounces, that young people were so pleased with nowadays. It was +severely simple in contrast with her sister's, and her hair was gathered +in one heavy braid at the back of her head. She had not her sister's +fair and smiling loveliness, but there was something in her face that +went far beyond it, her aunt thought, as she watched them standing there +looking over the lawn to some one approaching along the road. Her face +was bright and her air cheerful enough at the moment, but for all that +there was a look of thoughtfulness and gravity upon it--a silent look-- +which reminded her father of his sister's look at her age. Only she was +more beautiful. She was like a young princess, he thought, in his pride +in her. + +"Is it her gown?" asked he; "or is it the way that Jean puts her hair? +What has 'come o' a' her curls this while back?" + +The question was not to be answered. The opening of a little gate at +the side of the lawn made them turn, and then Mr Dawson rose to greet a +stranger who was coming up the walk. He was not quite a stranger to +him. He knew his name and that he was a visitor at Blackford House, a +gentleman's seat seven miles away. It was at this gentleman the girls +had been looking, and at the lady who was in the carriage with him, as +they passed slowly along the highway. + +He was a tall fair man--young and good looking--very handsome indeed. +He was a little too much inclined to stoutness perhaps, and rather +languid in his movements, it might have been thought, as he came up the +walk; but no fault could be found with his graceful and friendly +greeting. + +It was Miss Jean Dawson that he wished to see. It had been suggested to +his sister, Mrs Eastwood, that Miss Dawson would be able to tell her +what she wished to hear of a poor woman in whom she took an interest. +She had been at Miss Dawson's house in Portie, and hearing she was at +Saughleas, had called on her way to Blackford, to save another journey. +She was in her carriage at the gate, and could Miss Dawson send her a +message? Or perhaps-- + +The gate was hidden by a clump of firs. Miss Jean gave a glance in that +direction and then laid her hand on her staff. Then she beckoned to her +nieces who were still on the terrace. Jean came quickly toward her, and +May followed more slowly. It was worth a body's while, Phemie told her +fellow servants afterwards, just to see the way the gentleman took off +his hat and bowed as Miss Dawson came near. Phemie saw it all from her +young lady's window upstairs, and she would have liked well to hear +also. + +"It is about Mrs Cairnie, Jean, my dear. Ye ken her daughter Annie +went south last year, and her mistress promised to see her mother, when +she came north, and would like to hear o' her. I might maybe get to the +gate with your help?" + +"Certainly not. You are not able to walk so far. If a message will not +do, it must wait." + +Miss Jean shook her head with a slight smile. She had seen "Miss +Dawson's grand air" before, and so had May, but her father looked at her +amazed. It was not her words that startled him so much as her manner. +She looked at the stranger who stood with his hat in his hand, as though +he were at an immense distance from her. But in a minute she added more +gently: + +"I will take a message, aunt, if you wish. Or, I could--" + +"Pray do not think of such a thing. I could not think of troubling +you," said the young man confusedly. + +"Or I could write a note," said the young lady taking no notice. + +"Or the lady might drive into the place. She need not leave her +carriage," said Mr Dawson, not quite pleased at his daughter's manner. + +"Certainly that will be much the best way," said the stranger, bowing to +Miss Jean and the young ladies. + +Miss Jean the elder was generally sparing of words of reproof, and even +of words of advice, unless advice was asked, and she said nothing. But +May exclaimed,-- + +"You might have been civil to him at least, Jeannie. We have not so +many gentlemen coming to see us." + +"To see us! It was Auntie Jean he came to see--on an errand from his +sister. And I think it was a piece of impertinence on his part to +expect Miss Jean Dawson to go at his bidding--and you so lame, auntie," +added Jean as she saw her aunt's face. + +"He couldna ken that, and I'm no' sure that he did expect me to go to +the gate. And I'm no' feared for my ain dignity, Jean lassie, and I +dinna think ye need be feared for it either." + +"Dignity!" exclaimed May. "Why, he is one of the fine folk that are +staying at Blackford House." + +"And that is the very reason," said Jean hotly--"the very reason that +I--" + +"It's but a poor reason," said Miss Jean. + +But no more could be added, for the carriage was passing round the drive +toward the spot where Miss Jean was sitting. The lady was driving her +own ponies, and very nice she looked in her fresh muslins and simple +straw hat. She was not very young, judging from her lace, which was +thin and rather dark, but she had a youthful air, and a sweet smile, and +seemed altogether a pleasing person. Even Jean could find no fault with +her manner, as she addressed her aunt. There was respect, even +deference, in every tone of her voice, and in every bend of her graceful +head. + +There was not very much to be said between them however. Miss Jean told +the lady where Mrs Cairnie lived. Any body in Portie could have told +her that. Then there was something said about the poor old lady's wants +and ways, and the chief thing was that the daughter had sent some money +and other things, which were to be left in Miss Jean Dawson's hands, for +a reason which the lady could not explain. But explanation was +unnecessary, for Miss Jean knew more of poor Tibby Cairnie's troubles +and temptations than even her own daughter did. + +It was all arranged easily enough, but still the lady seemed in no hurry +to go. She could hardly have gone at once, for Mr Dawson had taken +Captain Harefield round among the trees, and they were out of sight at +the moment May admired the ponies, and Jean stood with her hand on her +aunt's chair looking straight before her. + +"A striking face and graceful figure, and a wonderfully intelligent look +as well," thought Mrs Eastwood, and then in a pretty friendly way she +seemed to include the silent girl in the talk she had been making with +Miss Jean about the trees, and the views, and the fine weather they had +had of late; and when Miss Jean became silent, as she generally did +unless she had something to say that needed to be heard, Jean took her +part in the conversation and did it well. + +When the gentlemen returned, Mrs Eastwood still seemed in no haste to +go. A new idea had seized her. Would Miss Dawson kindly go with her +some morning soon to see Mrs Cairnie? It would be a pleasure to a +faithful servant, if she could tell her on her return that she had seen +her old mother; and if Miss Dawson could make it convenient to go with +her, she would call some morning soon, and drive her to Portie. + +No serious objection could be made to this, though in her heart Miss +Jean doubted whether the absent Annie would care much to have the lady +see her old mother, who was not always in a state fit for the eyes of +"gentlefolk." However a day was set, and other little matters agreed +upon, and then with many pleased looks and polite hopes that they might +meet again, their visitors went away. + +That night when they were sitting alone in the long gloaming, the +sisters being not at home, Mr Dawson suddenly returned to the +discussion of the subject which had been touched on in the garden. + +"I couldna divide the land, but there is enough of money and other +property to do fair justice to the other, and I think the land should go +to Jean." + +His sister said nothing. + +"She is the eldest, and the strongest in every way. If she were to give +her mind to it, she might, in time, hold her own in the countryside with +the best of them." + +He was silent for a minute. + +"And she might many, and get help in that way. And her son would have +the place. And he might take my name, which is an honest one at least." + +"Ye're takin' a lang look," said Miss Jean at last. + +He gave an uncertain laugh. + +"Oh! weel! That's atween you and me, ye ken. It might be. A lad like +him that was here the day, for instance--a gentleman by birth and +breeding. He is a poor man, as poverty looks to the like of him, a two +or three hunder pounds or so a year. It would be wealth to most folk, +but it's poverty to the like o' him. But if it should so happen--and I +were to live another ten years--I might satisfy even the like o' him." + +There was much which Miss Jean might have said to all this, which fell +like the vainest folly on her ears, but she said nothing. + +"And as for my Jean!--she needs to see the world and society, and all +that, doubtless, but if there's many o' the fine London ladies that will +hold a candle to her as far as looks go--it's mair than I think. She +might stand before the queen herself with any of them." + +And still Miss Jean said never a word. + +"It might very well be, and I might live to see it. There's more land +to be had too, if I'm willing to pay the price for it--and with this in +view I might care to do it. I'll do nothing in haste." + +He seemed to be speaking to himself, rather than to her. + +"I'll do nothing in haste," he repeated. "But I could do it, and there +would be some good in life--if this thing could be." + +"Are ye forgetting that ye ha'e a son somewhere in the world?" said his +sister gravely. + +Mr Dawson uttered a sound in which pain and impatience seemed to +mingle. + +"Have I? It is hardly to be hoped. And if he is--living--it is hardly +such a life as would fit him to take his place where--he might have +been. I think, Jean, it might be as weel to act as if I had no living +son." + +"But yet he may be living, and he may come home." Mr Dawson rose +suddenly and went and leaned against the darkening window. + +"No, Jean, if he had ever been coming home, he would have come ere now. +He was seen in Portie not three months since, and he never came near me. +Ye think I was hard on him; but I wasna so hard as all that." + +"Who saw him?" asked his sister greatly startled. "He was seen by more +than one, though he was little like himself, if I can judge from what I +heard." + +"But he is living, George. There's comfort in that." + +"If I had heard that he was living on the other side of the world, I +might have taken comfort from it. But that he should have been here, +and never came home--there is little comfort in that." + +"But he is living and he'll come home to you yet. Do you think his +mother's son will be left to go astray beyond homecoming? He'll come +home again." + +"Many a son of a good mother has gone down to death--And that he should +have come so near her grave, without coming nearer! I would almost +sooner know him to be dead than to know that of him. And when I mind--" + +That was the last word spoken. Mr Dawson rose and went out into the +faint light of the summer night, and though his sister sat long waiting +for him after the girls had come in and had gone to bed, she saw no more +of him that night. + +CHAPTER FIVE. + +A NEW ACQUAINTANCE. + +Mr Dawson was just as usual the next morning. He was never so silent, +nor in such haste to get through breakfast and away to the town when his +sister was in the house, for he took pleasure in her company, and never +failed in the most respectful courtesy toward her when she was under his +roof--or indeed elsewhere. She saw traces of last night's trouble in +his face, but it was not so evident as to be noticed by his daughters. + +Indeed he seemed to them to be more interested than usual in the amusing +discussion into which they fell concerning their yesterday's pleasure. +They had been at a garden party given by Mrs Petrie, the wife of their +father's partner in the bank, and had enjoyed it, and May especially had +much to say about it. + +"And who do you think was there, papa? Captain Harefield?" + +"Captain Harefield! How came that about?" + +"James Petrie asked him, it seems. But he said he came because he +thought we might be there." + +"But he acknowledged that it was his sister that `put him up to it,'" +said Jean. + +"So the Petries may thank you for the honour of his company. That would +rather spoil the honour to them, if they were to hear it," said Mr +Dawson with a laugh. + +"Well, very likely he may let them know it. I canna say much for his +discretion," said May with a shrug. "He asked me who made my sister's +gown, and you should have seen his face when I told him that she made it +herself." + +"And didna he admire your gown?" asked her father, to the astonishment +of the two Jeans, and indeed to May's astonishment as well. + +"Oh! yes. But then he said mine was just like other girls' gowns, `very +pretty and all that.' But Miss Dawson's was `unique,'" said May with a +drawl. "And he said he would tell his sister." + +"And maybe she'll want me to make one for her. She looks like one who +cares about her gowns," said Jean. + +"She would be a queer kind o' a woman if she didna," said her father +dryly. + +Jean laughed. + +"But there are degrees in that, as in other things. If Captain +Harefield had spoken to me, I would have offered to make one for her." + +"And had the Captain nothing to say to you; Jean?" asked Mr Dawson. + +"He was feared at Jean," May said laughing. "He just stood and looked +at her." + +"He had plenty to say, if I had had the time to listen. He said his +sister insisted on his coming north that he might keep out of mischief. +He found Blackford House a bore rather," said Jean imitating May's drawl +with indifferent success. Then she added,-- + +"I beg your pardon, auntie. I ken ye dinna like it, and then I don't do +it well enough to make it worth my while, like May here." + +"My dear, ye baith do it only ower weel. And as to my no' liking it-- +that's neither here nor there. But I have kenned such a power o' +mockery give great pain to others, and bring great suffering sooner or +later on those that had it. It canna be right, and it should be no +temptation to a--Christian", was the word that was on Miss Jean's lips, +but she changed it and said--"to a young gentlewoman." + +May looked at her sister and blushed and hung her head. Miss Jean so +seldom reproved any one, that there was power in her words when she did +speak; and May had yesterday sent some of her young companions into +agonies of stifled laughter, by echoing the Captain's drawl to his face. + +"I'll never do it again, auntie," said she. "And besides," said her +sister, "Captain Harefield is not fair game. It's not just airs and +pride and folly with him, as it is with some folk we have seen; it is +his natural manner." + +"But that is just what makes it so irresistible," said May laughing. +"To see him standing there so much at his ease--so strong and stately +looking, and then to hear the things he says in his fine English words! +It might be Simple Sandy himself," and she went on to repeat some of his +remarks, which probably lost nothing in the process. Even her aunt +could not forbear smiling as she listened. + +"Well, I must say I thought well of what I saw of him," said Mr Dawson. +"I would hardly call him a sharp man, but he may have good sense +without much surface cleverness. I had a while's talk with him +yesterday." + +"And he's a good listener," said Jean archly. + +Her father laughed. + +"I dare say it may have been partly that. He is a fine man as far as +looks go, anyway." + +"Very. They all said that," said May. "And Mavis said to me, `Eh, May, +wouldna he do grand deeds if he were the same a' through?' He has the +look of `grand deeds.' But I have my doubts, and so had Mavis," added +May shaking her head. + +"There are few men that I have ever met, the same a' through. But who +is Mavis that sets up with you to be a judge?" asked her father. + +"Mavis!"--said May, hanging her head at her father's implied reproof, as +he supposed. "Mavis--is wee Marion--Marion Calderwood." + +"And we used--in the old days--to call her Mavis because she has a voice +like a bird, and to ken her from our May, and Marion Petrie," said Jean, +looking straight at her father, and as she looked the shine of tears +came to her bonny eyes. + +"She is but a bairn," said Miss Jean gravely. + +Mr Dawson's face darkened as it always did at the mention of any name +that brought back the remembrance of his son. May was not quick at +noticing such signs, and she answered her aunt. + +"A bairn! Yes, but `a bairn by the common,' as Mrs Petrie's Eppie +says. She is a clever little creature." + +"She is a far-awa' cousin o' Mrs Petrie's, and she's learning some +things from the governess of her bairns. But she might well have been +spared on an occasion like yesterday, I would think," said Miss Jean. + +"Oh! _all_ the bairns were there, as well as Marion. And she looked as +a rose looks among the rest of the flowers." + +"As the violet looks in the wood, I would say," added Jean. "She'll be +as bonny as her sister ever was." + +There was a moment's silence, round the table, which Jean broke. + +"She was asking when you would be home, aunt. She has gotten her second +shirt finished, and she wants you to see it. She is very proud of it. +I told her that you werena going to Portie, except on Sundays, for a +month yet, and she must come here and let you see it." + +"Weel, she'll maybe come. It was me that set her to shirt making. +There is naething like white seam, and a good long stretch of it to +steady a lassie like Marion. And if she learn to do it weel, it may +stand her instead when other things fail." + +"White seam!" exclaimed May. "Not she! May Calderwood is going to +educate herself, and keep a fine school--in London maybe--she has heard +o' such things. She's learning German and Latin, no less! And I just +wish you could hear her sing." + +"She markets for her mother, and does up her mother's caps," said Jean, +"and she only learns Latin for the sake of helping Sandy Petrie, who is +a dunce, and ay at the foot of the form." + +"She's nae an ill lassie," said Miss Jean softly, and the subject was +dropped. + +Phemie came in and the breakfast things were removed, and the girls went +their several ways. Miss Jean, who was still lame from a fall she had +got in the winter, went slowly to her chair near a sunny window and sat +looking out upon the lawn. Mr Dawson went here and there, gathering +together some papers, in preparation for his departure to the town. He +had something to say, his sister knew as well as if he had told her, and +she would gladly have helped him to say it, as it did not seem to be +easy for him to begin. But she did not know what he wished to speak +about, or why he should hesitate to begin. At last, standing a little +behind her, he said,-- + +"It's no' like John Petrie and his wife to do a foolish thing, but they +are doing it now. And their son Jamie just the age to make a fool o' +himself, for the sake o' a bonny face. `A rose among the other +flowers,' no less, said May." + +"But Jean said better. `A violet in the wood.' She is a modest little +creature--though she has a strong, brave nature, and will hold her own +with any Petrie o' them a'. And as good as the best o' them to my +thinking." + +"Well, that mayna be the father's thought, though it may be the son's." + +"Dinna fash yoursel' about Jamie Petrie. He'll fall into no such +trouble. It's no' in him?" added Miss Jean with a touch of scorn. + +"I never saw the lad yet that hadna it in him to ken a bonny lass when +she came in his way; and for the lassie's ain sake, ye should take +thought for her." + +"She has her mother," said Miss Jean, more hastily than was her way. +"And any interference would come ill from you or me where this one is +concerned. And my bonny Mavis is but a bairn," she added more gently, +"and she's in no danger from James Petrie, who is a well intentioned +lad, and who has been ower weel brought up, and who is ower fond of +siller and gentility, to have either roses or violets in his plan o' +life, unless they're growing in a fine flowerpot, in somebody's fine +house. Marion Calderwood is no' for the like of him." + +Her brother regarded her with anger so evidently struggling with +astonishment in his face, that she expected hot words to follow. But he +kept silence for a moment, and then he said quietly enough,-- + +"It seldom answers for ane to put his finger into another's pie. There +are few men so wise as to profit by a lesson from another man's +experience, and I doubt John Petrie is no' ane o' them." + +"And there's few men, it's to be feared, wise enough to take the best +lesson from their ain experience," said Miss Jean gravely. "And that is +a sadder thing to say." + +It was quite true, as Captain Harefield had said, that it was his sister +who "put him up" to going on James Petrie's invitation to the garden +party that afternoon. The natural desire to get him off her hands, for +the rest of the day was her only motive in urging it, and a sufficient +one, for it was true that he was bored by the quiet of Blackford House, +and that he did not suffer alone. But it was the unwonted energy of his +admiring exclamations as soon as they had passed out of the gate of +Saughleas, that had suggested the idea. + +By "this and by that," were they not beauties, these two girls? Who +would have thought of coming upon two such without warning? Even his +sister must acknowledge that they were beautiful. + +She did acknowledge it, but there was something far more wonderful to +her than their good looks. That two country girls--and Scotch country +girls--should be found at home dressed as these two were, astonished her +more than their beauty. + +"They might have passed at any garden party of the season," said she. + +"Passed! I should think so. I don't know about their gowns, but _they_ +would pass, I fancy." + +"She couldn't have fallen on any thing to suit her style of face and +figure better if she had made a study of it." + +"Perhaps she did," said her brother, laughing. "Or perhaps they get +their gowns from London." + +"No, they would probably have been dressed alike, in that case, and in +the height of the fashion. The white one was very much like the dresses +of other girls, but the other was unique. And they seemed nice, +lady-like girls." + +"Did they not? And not so very Scotch." + +"Well, perhaps not so _very_--but rather so. But then I like the Scotch +of Scotch people better than their English as a rule. However, the few +words I heard them speak were softly and prettily spoken, and quite +appropriate to the place and time. How it might seem elsewhere I could +not say." + +"It is rather a nice place, too, isn't it? The estate is small, but he +has no end of money, they tell me, and he seems a sensible old fellow +enough." + +"The sister is a striking looking woman--with a certain dignity of +manner, too." + +"Yes, and young Petrie tells me that she used to keep a little shop, in +her young days. Indeed, not so very long ago." + +Mrs Eastwood did not reply to this. Her mind was evidently intent on +solving the problem of Jean's tasteful gown. + +"And at home too! I have heard that young people of their class, get +themselves up in fine style when they go out to tea. But sitting there +on the grass, with the old woman in the cap--" + +"But perhaps they are going out to tea.--To the garden party! `By this +and by that'--Did I tell you? Young Petrie at the bank asked me to go. +I have a great mind to go." + +He glanced down at the faultless grey morning suit he wore. + +"I could not go all the way to Blackford House and return again, could +I?" + +"Hardly, and you could not improve yourself if you were to go. Yes, by +all means accept the invitation. You will be sure to meet the Misses-- +Dawson is it? And the circumstances will be more favourable for knowing +them than they were this morning." + +It ended in Captain Harefield's leaving the carriage, and returning to +Portie on foot. He lunched at the inn, and presented himself at Petrie +Villa in company with the eldest son of the house in the course of the +afternoon. It is to be supposed that he enjoyed himself, for this was +by no means his last visit, and his sister was able to congratulate +herself on getting him off her hands a good deal after this while they +remained in the North. + +Various circumstances combined, made this a pleasanter summer in +Saughleas than the last had been. For one thing, Miss Jean was there +more than usual. The fall which had made her almost helpless for a +while, still prevented her from moving about with ease; and the Lord's +"little ones," for the time, received the aid and comfort which she owed +them for His sake, through the hands of others, and she had to content +herself with sitting still and waiting His will. + +She could have contented herself in circumstances more adverse than +those in which she found herself. She knew that her presence in the +house was a pleasure to her brother, and that it was not an +uncomfortable restraint upon her nieces, as it might have become, even +though they loved one another dearly, had she assumed any other place +than that of visitor among them. + +So young a mistress of a house, to which there were so many coming and +going as there always were in summer, needed the help which the presence +of an elder person gave, and it was all the better that the help was +given and received with no words about it. Jean the younger, was glad +of her aunt's stay, because she loved her, and because escaping now and +then from the pleasant confusion that sometimes prevailed in the house, +she found quiet and rest in her company. And though she might not have +acknowledged her need of her help in any other way, she was doubtless +the better of it. + +It cannot be said that it was altogether a happy summer to her, but it +was a very busy one. She was mistress and housekeeper, and gave her +mind to her duties as she had not done at first. Indeed, it seemed that +she was determined to give herself and her maidens no rest for a while, +so intent was she in doing all that was to be done. And even when her +maidens had necessary respite, she took none to herself. In the house +or in the garden she occupied herself all the morning. She took long +walks in the afternoon if there were no visitors to entertain, and if +the rain, or the special need or wish of her aunt or her sister kept her +in the house, she employed herself still with work of some sort, sitting +at it steadily and patiently, "as if she had her bread to make by it," +her father said one day when he had been watching her for some time +unperceived. + +"I should like to know how it would seem to do that," said Jean gravely. + +"You would soon tire of it," said her father laughing. + +"I dare say. I tire of most things," said she, rising and folding up +the long, white garment on which she had been so busy. + +Her father regarded her curiously from behind his newspaper. She did +not look either well or happy at the moment, he thought. + +"It is all nonsense, Jean lassie, to keep yourself at your seam, as you +have been doing for the last two hours, when there are so many poor +women in Portie that would be glad to do it for what you would hardly +miss." + +"But I like to do it, papa, for the moment, and one must do something." + +"It is just a whim of hers, papa," said May laughing. "Think of her +stinting herself to do so much an hour, when she might as well be +amusing herself." + +"It's good discipline, Auntie Jean says," said Jean laughing. "And I +need, it she thinks. At any rate, every woman ought to do white seam in +the very best way, and I didna like it when I was young." + +"But now we have the sewing-machine, and as for the discipline, it's all +nonsense." + +"Well never mind, May. Now is the time to speak to papa about the +children's party. Papa, May wants to give a large children's party--for +the little Corbetts, ye ken. Though there must be grown people here +too, and it will be great fun, I have no doubt." + +Jean seemed quite as eager about it as May, her father thought, as they +went on to discuss the proposed party. Of course the result of the +discussion was just what the sisters knew it would be. Their father +said they were to please themselves, only adding several cautions as to +the care that must be taken of fruit trees and flower beds, and some +doubts as to how the Portie bairns, accustomed to the freedom of rocks +and sands, would care for a formal tea-drinking in the house, or even in +the garden. + +"The bairns' pleasure is the excuse, and no' the reason, I doubt," said +he; but he laughed when he said it. + +This was one of the things that made this summer pleasanter than the +last had been. They had amused themselves last summer and their father +had not objected; but as to his enjoying any thing of the kind, such a +thought had never entered the minds of his daughters. But now he did +not endure their gay doings painfully, protesting against them by his +manner, if not by his words, nor did he ignore them altogether as had +been most frequently his way. He looked on smiling at the enjoyment of +the guests, and took evident pleasure in the success of his daughters in +entertaining them. If it had been otherwise, there would have been few +visitors to entertain, and few gayeties attempted. For Jean did not +care enough for these things to make the effort worth her while, and May +would have had to content herself with the gayeties provided by other +people. But as it was, the elder sister did her part, and did it well; +so well that none but her aunt suspected that her heart was not in these +things quite as it used to be. + +Certainly her father was far from suspecting any such thing. And +sitting apart, seeing them both and watching, and musing upon all that +was going on, Miss Jean could not but wonder at his blindness, and at +the folly of the vague and pleasant possibilities he was beginning to +see, and to rejoice over in the future. + +CHAPTER SIX. + +A PROPOSAL. + +The garden party at Petrie Villa had been the first of a series. Not a +very long series, indeed, for there were not many gardens in Portie +equal to the requirements of such an entertainment, even according to +the limited ideas of those who had never "assisted at" a garden party +anywhere else. But there had been several, and the presence of Captain +Harefield would have been generally declared to be the most interesting +feature of nearly all of them. + +He had not always been invited. That is, he had not always been invited +in the formal way usually considered necessary on such occasions even in +Portie. But through the kindness of James Petrie at first, and +afterward of others, when he became better known, he was sure to make +his appearance in the course of the entertainment, and so comported +himself and so evidently enjoyed himself, that even those who were at +first inclined to resent, as a liberty, his coming so unceremoniously +among them, forgot to do so in his presence, and ended in being as +pleased and flattered as the rest. + +Of course there was a garden party at Saughleas, and of course Captain +Harefield was a guest, formally and specially invited by Mr Dawson +himself. But his presence was not the most interesting circumstance of +the occasion, for his sister, Mrs Eastwood, was there also. Mrs +Eastwood had come according to her promise and had taken Miss Jean in +her carriage to visit Mrs Cairnie, and it had been a successful visit +in every way. For May had given the old woman warning, and she had +prepared herself to receive them. Not only had she on a clean "mutch" +and apron, but her house was "redd up" in a way that would have seemed +wonderful to her visitor, if she had been familiar with its aspect on +other days. + +Mrs Cairnie was a clever old woman, and made the most of her +opportunity. She bewailed the loss of her daughter's society, and of +the help and comfort she had been to her, but enlarged on her sense of +the good fortune that had come to the lassie in being admitted into the +service of such a kind and gracious lady. She declared herself +overpowered at the condescension and kindness of the visit in terms +which did not seem so very much exaggerated to the visitor; but Miss +Jean knew that the bad auld wife was laughing in her sleeve at the +English lady and her simplicity. However, the visit was considered a +success by those chiefly concerned, and it was to be repeated before +Mrs Eastwood took her departure. + +On returning to leave Miss Jean at Saughleas, Mrs Eastwood expressed +herself delighted to accept Mr Dawson's invitation to alight and drink +a cup of tea before she set out for Blackford House. In a little the +tea and all the pretty accessories were brought out to the terrace, and +it was charming--every thing was charming, Mrs Eastwood declared, and +"not at all Scotch"; but happily the last part of her opinion was +reserved till she was relating her afternoon's adventures at Blackford +House. + +She herself did her utmost to charm every one, and succeeded very well +on the whole, and her suggestion as to an invitation to the garden party +came very naturally and gracefully in the midst of the gentle thanks +addressed to Miss Jean because of the kindness shown to her brother. +Captain Harefield, whom she confessed to be a little impatient of the +quiet of Blackford House. Even Miss Dawson did not seem to think it +strange when, in her pretty way, she begged to be allowed to accompany +her brother to the garden party on the day appointed. + +"It was very silly of her," Jean said afterwards. "What possible +pleasure could she expect?" + +"I don't see that. Why should she not take pleasure in it as well as +you? She is young yet," said Mr Dawson, ready to take the lady's part. + +"I should have no pleasure in going out of my own sphere," said Jean +with dignity. + +"Eh! Jeannie, I'm no' so sure of that. Werena you just the other day +playing at `the beds' with Mavis, and Emily Corbett, and the rest of the +bairns on the sands? And didna you finish Maggie Saugster's seam to let +her get away with the rest? And didna you--" + +"Nonsense, May! I've played at `the beds' all my life, and I dinna look +down on Mavis and Maggie and the rest. And it was for their pleasure I +played with them, and not for my own." + +"Well, it may be for our pleasure that Mrs Eastwood is coming here, and +as for looking down on us--" said May with a toss of her pretty head. + +"Whisht, bairns," said Miss Jean gently. "I dare say she thinks lang in +the country as weel as her brother,--her that's used with London life,-- +and she would like to come just for a pass-time, with no thought of +looking down on any one." + +"Her brother doesna seem to be looking down on any one," said Mr Dawson +with a short, amused laugh. + +"Oh! he makes no secret that it is just for a pass-time, that he favours +Portie folk with his company. He finds Blackford House dull. He gets +awfully bored," said May in the Captain's languid manner. + +"It's a wonder he stays on then," said Mr Dawson. + +"I said that to him once, and he said--" May hesitated. It would not +have been easy to repeat all that had been said on the occasion alluded +to; but she put the gist of his communications more clearly and directly +than he had done himself, when she added,-- + +"It is a good place not to spend money at, and he does not seem to have +much to spend." + +"Weel, he's honest--as to his reasons, at any rate," said her father. + +"Oh! that is what I gathered, rather than what he said. He is out of +the reach of duns. That he _did_ say." + +"He doesna seem to me like an ill-disposed youth," said Miss Jean. + +"Oh, no, auntie! He's nice and agreeable, and--all that; but he is-- +soft," said May laughing. + +Her father looked as if he were going to say something sharp, but he did +not. + +"His sister is very fond of him, and very good to him, he says. And he +must be a heavy handful whiles," said Jean gravely. + +"In what way?" asked her father. + +"Oh! just having him on her mind to keep sight of, and amuse, and keep +out of mischief, as he says. Just fancy the weariness of it?" + +"You seem to have gathered a good deal from him, as well as your +sister," said Mr Dawson, not well pleased. "And you find him a heavy +handfu', do you? I have thought whiles that you get on very well with +him." + +"Oh, yes, I get on very well with him! I'm not responsible for him, ye +ken, and that makes all the difference." + +"Marion Petrie says that Jean keeps him very much to herself, and Jamie +looks as if he thought so, too, sometimes," said May laughing. + +"That is one of your `gatherings,' May, my dear," said her sister. + +"Well, you must make your best of the visitor when she comes," said Mr +Dawson as he went out. + +And it was very easy to make the best of Mrs Eastwood. She was amiable +and agreeable, and if she looked down on any one, it did not appear. +She did not mingle much with the younger portion of the company, but she +amused herself by observing all that was going on, and talked pleasantly +with Miss Jean, and afterwards with Mr Dawson, about various things, +but chiefly about her brother, whom she evidently loved dearly, and who +as evidently caused her anxiety, though she had no thought of letting +this appear. + +Miss Jean found her soft flowing talk pleasant to listen to, and all the +more that she did not need very often to reply. Mr Dawson was charmed +with her, and it was not, as a general thing, his way to be charmed with +strangers. But she was not altogether a stranger. Her husband's name-- +Eastwood, the London banker--had long been familiar to Mr Dawson. He +knew him to be a "responsible" man, and that was more than could be said +of all the fine English folk, who found it convenient to pass a part of +the summer or autumn at Blackford House. + +Mrs Eastwood herself was of high family, being the granddaughter, or at +least the grand-niece, of a living earl, and though Mr Dawson would +doubtless have scorned the imputation, it is possible that he found all +the more pleasure in entertaining her because of that Mr Eastwood was +not of high family. He was very rich however, and they got on together, +pretty well, May "gathered" from Captain Harefield's conversation; that +is, they never quarrelled, and were content to spare each other to enjoy +the society of other people for a good part of the year. + +But Mrs Eastwood made much of her husband when speaking of him to Mr +Dawson, and of her brother also. Of the brother, she had much to say, +and Mr Dawson listened with great interest to it all, as Miss Jean +could not fail to see. + +And in the mean time the young people amused themselves in the garden +and in the wood, and Captain Harefield seemed to be at no loss for +amusement among them. Jean certainly did not keep him to herself +to-day, as Mr Dawson noticed; but then Jean was hostess, and had to +occupy herself with the duties of her position, and with the party +generally. It passed off very well, all things considered, and the +children's party was likely to be the same thing over again, with the +children added. + +The little Corbetts, who were the reason, or the excuse, of the +prospective gayeties, had come from their home in an English +manufacturing town, in order that the sea breezes of Portie might put +strength in their limbs and colour in their wan cheeks; and they had +come at the special invitation of Mr Dawson. Their father, the son of +the Portie parish minister of the time, had been his chief friend in the +days of his youth, and they had never forgotten one another, though they +had not for a long time been in frequent correspondence. During one of +Mr Dawson's infrequent visits to Liverpool, they had met by chance, and +had renewed acquaintance to the pleasure of both, and Mr Dawson allowed +himself to be persuaded to go and pass a few days with his friend. + +Mr Corbett had not been a very successful man in the way of making +money, and he had a large family, few of them able to do much for +themselves. But they were cheerful, hopeful people, and made the best +of things. There had been illness among them recently, which had left +the younger children white and thin, and not likely to mend during the +summer heat in a close city street; and when Mr Dawson asked as many of +them as liked to spend a month or two among the sea breezes of Portie, +the invitation was accepted gratefully. But it was doubtful whether, +for economic reasons, they could have availed themselves of it, if Mr +Dawson had not taken matters into his own hand, and insisted on taking +some of them home at once. + +So the two youngest, Polly and Dick, with an elder sister of fifteen to +be responsible for their well-being and well-doing, were carried off to +Saughleas, and presented unannounced to the startled, but well pleased, +household. Their coming gave interest, and occupation as well, to every +one, for "Mr Dawson had given mamma no time for preparation," as the +pretty, anxious elder sister was fain to explain when she asked Miss +Dawson's advice and assistance in the matter of shoes and stockings, and +other things suitable for the perfect enjoyment of the rocks and sands +of Portie. Miss Dawson made all that easy, taking the equipment of the +children, and the elder sister as well, into her own hands. + +And the puny city children enjoyed the sands and the sea, the running +and clambering, and the free out-of-doors life, as much as their father +had done in his boyish days; and their own mother would hardly have +recognised their round brown faces before the first month was over. + +As to their needing entertainment in the way of children's parties, that +was not likely. But for the sake of their father and grandfather they +had been invited to many houses in Portie, and it was but right that +they should have a chance to invite their young friends in return. And +so the party was decided on, and was much enjoyed, and so might be +dismissed with no more words about it, except for a circumstance or two +which attended it. + +Mrs Eastwood was there again, but not by invitation. She had not been +aware that there was to be such gay doings at Saughleas, she said, when +she came into the garden, and she stayed a while at Miss Jean's request, +to enjoy the sight of so many happy bairns. But she was not bright and +beaming and bent on pleasing every one, as she had been the first time +she was at Saughleas. + +To tell the truth, she was anxious and unhappy, at a loss what to do, or +whether she should do any thing, or just let events take their own +course. It was her brother and his affairs that occupied her thoughts. +She had been so long accustomed to think for him, and advise him, he had +come to her so constantly for help in the various difficulties into +which he had fallen during his life, and she had been so successful in +helping him, and so happy in doing so, that she could not--though she +sometimes tried--divest herself of a feeling of personal responsibility +for his well-being. And now that he seemed to be at a turning point in +his life, she felt all the anxiety of one who had a decision of +importance to make, with no one at hand on whose judgment she could rely +for guidance. + +It added to her unhappiness, that she could not quite free herself from +blame in regard to the matter to be decided. She need not have made +herself unhappy about her own course. Nothing that she had done or left +undone, had much to do with the intentions of which her brother had +informed her that morning. She had been conscious of a feeling of +relief for herself at the chance of his finding the means of amusing +himself innocently in the country. That was the uttermost of her sin +towards him. But his frequent visits to Saughleas, and his loiterings +in Portie, would have been none the less frequent had he believed that +his sister missed and mourned every hour of his absence. + +And her present anxiety as to his next step was just as vain. She could +neither help nor hinder it, and, whatever might be the result, neither +praise nor blame could justly fall to her because of it. But she did +not see it so, and so she had come to Saughleas with many vague thoughts +as to what it might be wise to do, but with a firm determination as to +one thing that was to be plainly said before she went away again. + +Her first thought when she saw the pleasant confusion that the children +were making on the lawn and in the gardens was, that nothing could be +said to-day. But by and by, when children and young people, her brother +among the rest, went away to amuse themselves with games in the field +beyond the wood, the way to speak was opened to her, and she saw no +reason why she should not say all that was in her mind. It was to Miss +Jean she had intended to say it, and Miss Jean was sitting under the +beeches with folded hands, ready to listen. And yet, looking into the +grave, serene face of Miss Jean, she did hesitate. She could not tell +why; for Miss Jean was only a person who had kept a shop, and counted +and hoarded the pence, and who knew their value. A commonplace, +good-natured woman, not easily offended, why should she not say to her +all that she had to say--and say it plainly too? + +And so she did. And Miss Jean listened with no offence apparently, with +only a little gleam of surprise and interest in her eyes, and perhaps a +little gleam of amusement also. Mrs Eastwood was not sure. She did +not say much, but she said it very plainly. + +Miss Jean must have noticed the frequency of Captain Harefield's visits +to Saughleas, and his warm admiration of the young ladies, her nieces. +It had gone beyond admiration, she had reason to think, as to one of +them. Indeed her brother had intimated as much to her, and had filled +her with anxiety; for her brother had no fortune. Of course if he +married he would wish to leave the army. Could Miss Jean tell her +whether the fortune which Mr Dawson could give his daughter would be +sufficient to insure the comfort of the young people in case of a +marriage? + +"And did your brother send you to ask?" said Miss Jean quietly. "And +why do you ask me?" + +"Of course he did not I speak because of my own anxiety, and you must +see that I could not speak to Mr Dawson about money until a proposal +had been made." + +"Weel, madam, I can give you no help and no information. I have no' +sufficient knowledge of my brother's means, or of his intentions. And I +could not influence him in this matter, even if I were to try. Which of +them is it?" + +But strangely enough Mrs Eastwood could not answer this question. The +intimation she had that morning received of her brother's intention to +propose to Mr Dawson for the hand of his daughter, had not been very +definite or very clearly given. It had come in during a discussion of +other and painful matters, with which money, or rather the want of +money, had to do. And if her brother had told her which of them he +intended to honour, she had failed to understand him, or she had +forgotten. So her reply did not touch this question. + +"I cannot say whether I approve or disapprove of his choice. Your niece +is very pretty and lady-like, and she would take her husband's rank-- +and, my dear Miss Dawson, I trust you will not think me mercenary, but +my brother can give his wife a high station, and a place in society, and +to make the marriage an equal one, or in the least degree suitable, +there should not only be beauty and grace, which your niece I must +acknowledge has, but--money." + +"And plenty of it," said Miss Jean. + +"Of course. And unless there is, as you say, plenty of it, Percy should +not be allowed to speak." + +"But if they love one another?" + +Mrs Eastwood turned and looked at Miss Jean. She had rather avoided +doing so hitherto. She was not sure that the old woman was not laughing +at her. Miss Jean's face was grave enough however. + +"If there is not a prospect of--of--a fortune, he should not be allowed +to speak. Not that I do not admire your niece. I admire her extremely. +She is clever, and sensible also, and would restrain--I mean she would +influence her husband. She would make a good wife to Percy, who is--who +needs some one to lean on." + +"A heavy handfu'," said Miss Jean, unconsciously repeating her niece's +words. + +There was a silence of several minutes between them, and then Mrs +Eastwood continued, carrying on her own train of thought. + +"Of course I knew that the foolish boy admired the young lady--fancied +himself in love; but that has often happened to him before, and I +thought it would pass with the month. But they are very pretty and +fresh, and the tall one is clever, and she would--yes, she would make +him a good wife--provided--" + +Miss Jean's spirit was stirred within her, but she said nothing; and +Mrs Eastwood said all the more, unconsciously betraying her belief that +it would be the best thing that could happen to her brother, that he +should marry and settle down with a wife clever enough to influence him. +And to influence him meant, evidently, to keep him from spending too +much money, and from the companionship of those who loved to lead him +astray. + +She did not say in plain words that his marriage with such a one would +be a great relief to her and that it would be the saving of him to be +kept out of London and out of harm's way for the greater part of the +year; but Miss Jean saw clearly that she was more eager for his success +than she was willing to acknowledge. Miss Jean listened silently and +patiently. Her niece knew her own mind, doubtless, and would not be +likely to allow herself to be influenced by the wishes of any one, and +she had no call to reprove, or even to resent, the "ill manners" of the +lady. + +So she sat silent and let the softly spoken words "go in at one ear and +out of the other," till she heard the tramp of a horse's feet, and knew +that her brother was come home, and then she rose, and invited Mrs +Eastwood into the house, hoping that she would refuse the invitation and +take her departure. For at the sound of her brother's voice, Miss +Jean's heart misgave her. + +CHAPTER SEVEN. + +A MISFORTUNE. + +Miss Jean's heart misgave her, for she knew that the thought suggested +to her brother on the morning when Mrs Eastwood and Captain Harefield +came to Saughleas to inquire about poor Tibbie Cairnie had returned to +him more than once; and she feared that should Captain Harefield speak +to-day, he might not refuse to listen, and then there would be troublous +times before them. + +That there was even a possibility that he should be willing to listen to +him was amazing to Miss Jean. So wise and cautious and far-seeing as he +had always shown himself to be, how could he think of trusting any part +of the wealth which he had spent his life in gathering, to the hands of +a man who had proved himself incapable of making a good use of that +which had fallen to him? To say nothing of being willing to trust him +with his daughter! + +There was comfort here, however. Jean's welfare was in her own keeping. +Miss Jean was not so much at a loss as Mrs Eastwood, as to which of +her nieces Captain Harefield intended to seek. And she was glad it was +Jean, for Jean could hold her own against father and lover and all. But +still there was trouble before them, for, strangely enough, her brother, +hard-working and practical, a thorough man of business, had taken +pleasure in the comings and goings of this young man so utterly unlike +himself in all essential respects. She had seen it with wonder and a +little amusement at first; but she knew now, or she thought she knew, +that he had been preparing disappointment for himself and vexation to +her bonny Jean. + +"Truly we need guidance," she said aloud, and then she rose and invited +Mrs Eastwood to go in to the house and take a cup of tea, hoping all +the time that she might refuse, and that she might be away before Mr +Dawson came. + +It was not to be so arranged however. Mr Dawson was delighted to see +Mrs Eastwood, and expressed his pleasure so frankly, that Miss Jean +thought it possible the lady might take courage, and make known to him +as plainly as she had done to her the cause of her visit. So, instead +of moving away with the help of her cane, as she had at first intended +to do, she seated herself again. Not that she thought that her presence +would be likely to prevent her speech, but she was curious to know how +the matter, so interesting to the lady, should be presented to a new +listener; and curious also to see how her brother might receive it. + +There were the usual inquiries and compliments as to health, and the +usual remarks about the weather and the appearance of the country, and +then Mrs Eastwood spoke of the benefit she had received from her long +stay, and her regret that the time of her departure was so near. Then +Mr Dawson inquired with more interest than the occasion demanded, +whether Captain Harefield was to leave also. + +"If he take my advice about it, he will certainly do so," said Mrs +Eastwood. "But that is doubtful. The interest of the season is just +beginning to him, and as he has had his leave extended, he may remain." + +"He is a keen sportsman, I hear," said Mr Dawson. + +"Oh, yes; and the shooting here is good, they say, and does not involve +very much fatigue. Yes, he will probably stay for a little; though I +think he had much better go, for various reasons." + +She spoke with a certain significance of tone and manner, and Mr Dawson +remained silent, expecting to hear more; and possibly he might have had +the pleasure of hearing of Captain Harefield's hopes and his sister's +opinions, had no interruption occurred. + +But at the moment a sudden outcry arose somewhere in the garden. They +could see nothing where they were sitting, but they heard the sound of +many voices--entreating, expostulating, scolding, and at last they heard +words. + +"Ye needna tell, May. Naebody will ken wha did it." + +"I wouldna tell Mr Dawson--for--oh! for ony thing." + +"An' naebody will ken that it was you that did it." + +"It wasna me, but it was my fault; and if Sandy winna tell, I must, and +just take the wyte (blame) mysel'." + +"Eh! Marion! Yon's him speaking to the leddy. I wouldna be you for +something." + +"Something untoward has happened, I doubt," said Miss Jean. "I hope no +ill has come to any of the apple-trees." + +Now Mr Dawson's apple-trees were the pride of his heart. It is not +easy to raise fruit trees of any kind so near to the sea; and as far as +apple-trees are concerned, the fruit is not of the best, when success +has crowned persevering effort. But on a few young trees, bearing for +the first time, there hung several apples beautiful to behold, and they +had been watched through all the season with interest by every one in +the house, but above all by Mr Dawson. So when Miss Jean said +"apple-trees," he rose at once to satisfy himself that they were safe. + +But alas! before he had fairly turned to go, all doubt was at an end. +There were many children at a little distance, and two or three were +drawing near, and in the hand of one, a girl in her teens, was a broken +branch, on which hung two of the half dozen apples from the best of all +the trees. Mr Dawson had watched them with too great interest not to +know just where the little branch belonged. He did not speak,--indeed +the little maiden did not give him time. + +"It was a' my wyte, Mr Dawson, and I'm very grieved," said she, holding +up the branch, and looking up into his face with eager, wistful eyes. + +Mr Dawson took it, but he looked not at it, but at the child, saying +nothing. + +"I beg your pardon. I'm very grieved," repeated she. + +Mrs Eastwood whispered to Miss Jean what a pretty picture the child +made, but Miss Jean was thinking of other things. + +"It was Sandy," continued the little pleader. "He was taking a' wee +David's sweetees, and I couldna bide that, ye ken, and I just--just +tried to hinder him; an' he ran awa', and me after him. And he ran in +beneath the tree, but he wouldna have gone, if I hadna been after him, +and so--" + +"She licket me, and she tried to rug my lugs," (pull my ears), said a +voice in the distance. + +The change in the girl's face was wonderful to see as she turned to the +speaker. A sudden colour rose to her cheeks, and her grey eyes flashed +scorn and anger. + +"If I only had been able!" said she, and then she turned to Mr Dawson +again. + +"I'm very grieved," repeated she. + +"It canna be helpit now, Maysie," said Miss Jean. "Never heed. Run +awa' with the lave o' the bairns." + +For Miss Jean knew that it was not the apples nor their destruction that +had brought that look to her brother's face. + +"Are ye angry with me, sir? And winna ye forgive me?" said Maysie, the +sweet wistfulness coming back to her eyes. "I'm very grieved." + +"It canna be helpit. Never heed," said Mr Dawson, repeating his +sister's words. "I dinna think I mind your name," added he, not meaning +to say it, but making a great effort to recover himself. + +"I'm Marion Calderwood," said she, a sudden brightness, followed by a +cloud as sudden, passing over her face. She lifted beseeching eyes to +his face, and then she turned to Miss Jean. + +"Run awa', lassie, with the lave o' the bairns," said Miss Jean. + +"Maybe I should go hame?" + +"Hoot, lassie! Never heed. Only run away with the lave." + +Quite unconscious that he owed an apology to Mrs Eastwood for his +abrupt departure, Mr Dawson turned and strode off in another direction. + +"They must be precious apples," said Mrs Eastwood, looking after him +with surprise not unmingled with disgust. + +"It's an old trouble," said Miss Jean sorrowfully. "He'll hear none o' +her fine words the night," she added to herself, conscious, amid her +trouble, of some satisfaction that it should be so. + +No, Mr Dawson was not likely to listen patiently to words of any kind +that night. The very first look from the child's eyes smote his heart +with a pang in which there was regret, as well as anger and pain. For a +sudden remembrance of eyes as sweet, and with the same look of wistful +appeal in them came back to him--the eyes of bonny Elsie Calderwood, who +had come between him and his son. + +Almost the last words which his son had spoken to him, the very last +such as a son should speak to his father, had been spoken while those +wistful eyes entreated him. It had been a moment of great bitterness, +and as he passed down the lane that led to the fields, and then to the +sea, eager to get beyond the sound of the gay voices ringing from garden +and wood, the old bitterness returned, and with it came the added misery +of the vain wish that he had yielded his own will that day--a longing +unspeakable for all that he had lost. + +His boy--the only son of his mother who had been so dear, had he lost +him forever? Would he never return? Could he be dead? Should he never +see his face or hear his voice again? + +He had a bitter hour or two, this man, whom even his sister, who knew +him best and loved him best, called hard in her secret thoughts. And +the bitterness did not pass with the hour, nor the pain. Silence +reigned in the house before he came home that night, and in the morning +something of the old gloom seemed to have fallen upon him. + +Captain Harefield did go home with his sister; at least he left +Blackford House with her, and that without returning after the night of +the children's party to say "Good-bye" to his friends at Saughleas. May +remarked upon this with a little indignation, and Mr Dawson said it was +not like the young man not to do what was polite and kind, and he also +wondered at the omission of the visit. Jean said nothing; at least she +said nothing to them. To her aunt she acknowledged that she had known +of his intended departure, and that she had also known when he bade her +good-bye that night, that she was not likely to see him again. But even +to her aunt she did not acknowledge that he would have stayed longer if +she had bidden him, or that even now a word from her would bring him +back again. + +Out of the unfortunate incident of the broken apple-tree, there rose a +little talk between "the two Jeans." Miss Jean had for a long time had +something on her mind to say to her niece, but it was the younger Jean +who spoke first. + +"Aunt, what is this they are saying about my father's anger at Marion +Calderwood?" + +"My dear, he wasna angry!" + +"Did you see it all, auntie? Because Marion went home greeting, the +other bairns say. Of course it was a pity about the tree, but it wasna +Marion who broke it, and it wasna like my father to show anger to a +guest, even to a bairn." + +"My dear, he showed no anger." + +"But, auntie, there must have been something; for I met Mrs Calderwood +in the High-street this morning, and she went red and then white, and +was stiff and distant, as she used to be when we first came home. She +had grown quite friendly of late, and to-day she would have passed me +without speaking. It must have been because of Marion." + +"It might have been, but I dinna think it. Mrs Calderwood is a proud +woman, Jean, my dear,--and--" + +"Well?" + +"Weel, ye have been consorting with fine folk lately, and maybe--" + +"Auntie Jean! Dinna say more, for that is not your real thought; and +that is a terrible thing to say of you." + +"My dear, it is my real thought, as far as it goes. I ha'e little doubt +that was present in Mrs Calderwood's mind when she met you in the +High-street--with other things." + +"We'll take the other things first then," said Jean, the angry colour +rising in her cheeks. "You must think your friend but a poor creature, +or she must think it of us." + +It was the first time in all the girl's life, that her eyes with an +angry light in them had rested fully on her aunt's face. Her aunt did +not resent it, or notice it, except by a gentle movement of her head +from side to side, and the shadow of a smile passed over her face. She +looked grave enough as she answered, however. + +"I am far from thinking her a poor creature, whatever she may think of +us. And, Jean, my dear, I think ye maun ken something of the other +things, though ye never heard them from me." + +Jean's look grew soft and sad, and she came and leaned on her aunt's +chair. + +"Do you mean about bonny Elsie, and--our Geordie? Was it because of +Elsie that Geordie went--and lost himself? Tell me about it." + +"I think ye maun ken all that I could tell you--or mostly all." + +"I only ken--I mean I used to think that they--cared for one another--oh +long ago, before my mother died. And since we came home, I have heard a +word dropped now and then, by different folk--Marion Petrie, and her +mother; and once Tibbie Cairnie said something about my father's cursed +pride, and his fine plans that would come to nothing. But it wasna till +afterwards that I knew that it was Geordie she was thinking about Auntie +Jean, I have had my thoughts, but I ken little. Was my father angry? +But he must have been sorry for George when poor Elsie died. And was it +because of Elsie that my brother went away?" + +It was not an easy story to tell, and Miss Jean put it in as few words +as possible, having her own reasons for telling it to Jean. She dwelt +less upon her father's anger at his son's folly, than upon the +heartbreak that his loss had brought him. But she made it clear that +"poor bonny Elsie" was the cause of their estrangement, and that it +would have been the same had Elsie lived and had George carried out his +determination to marry her against his father's will. + +"If the poor foolish lad had only waited and had patience in the mean +time, much sorrow might have been spared to all concerned. Your father +might have given in--though I dinna think it; or as they were little +more than bairns, they might have forgotten ane anither--though I dinna +think that either. But if George had won to man's estate, and had been +doing a man's work and getting a man's wages, he would have had a better +right to take his own way, and your father _might_ have given in then. +At least he must have been silent, and let the lad go his ain gait. I +whiles weary myself thinking how it might have been." + +Jean sat without a word, but with a face that changed many times from +white to red and from red to white as she listened; and when her aunt +paused, and took up the work which in her earnestness she had allowed to +fall on her lap, she sat silent still, quite unconscious of the uneasy +glances that fell on her from time to time. + +"It has made an old man of your father," added Miss Jean in a little. + +"Poor father! and poor Geordie! Ay, and poor Elsie! and nothing can +change it now." + +Jean rose from the stool on which she had been sitting at her aunt's +feet, and walked restlessly about the room. By and by, she came and +stood behind her aunt's chair, leaning upon it. + +"Aunt--there is something I would like to tell you. I wonder if I +ought?" + +"Ye maun judge, my dear." + +"If I were only sure." + +Both were silent for a time. + +"Would I be better able to give help or counsel to you or--to any one-- +if I were to hear what you could tell?" + +Jean shook her head. + +"Nothing can be done--at least not now," said she sadly. "Weel then, +dearie, dinna speak. Whiles troubles take shape and strength in the +utterance and grow persistent, that might have died out or come to +little in silence. If a time should come that you are sure that +speaking would do any good, tell me then." + +"It would do no good now. And I am not sure that there is any thing to +tell." + +There was a long silence between them. Jean was thinking of the "John +Seaton" sailing away with her brother to the northern seas. Miss Jean +was thinking of the "John Seaton" too, and of Willie Calderwood, with a +sad heart. + +"They were just a' bairns thegither I thought, but I little kenned. And +wae's me! for my bonny Jean, gin she has to go through all that--and +wae's me! for her father as well. No' that the pain and the trouble +need be feared for them, so that they are brought through--and no +unfilial bitterness left to sicken my bairn's heart forever more; but I +mustna speak, or let her speak. I think she hardly kens yet how it is +with her, but she would ken at the first word; silence is best." + +And silence it was. But by and by more was said about the story of +those two "for whom life was ended," as Jean said sadly. She was not +angry at her father's part in the matter, as her aunt had feared she +might be. It could not have been otherwise, looking at things as he +looked at them, she acknowledged, and she grieved for him all the more, +knowing that there must mingle much bitterness, perhaps remorse, with +his sorrow for his son. + +"If my mother had but lived!" she said sadly. "Ay, lassie! But He kens +best who took her hence where we'll a' soon follow. We make muckle ado +about our gains and our pains, our loves and our losses, forgetting that +`our days are as a shadow, and there is no abiding.'" + +"A shadow to look back upon, auntie, but a reality as we are going +through with them day by day." + +"Ay! that's true, my lassie, and a stern reality whiles. The comfort is +that it is a' ordered for us." + +Jean shook her head with a doubtful smile. + +"Only it is not till afterward that we get the good of that knowledge." + +"And coming afterward it comes ower late, ye think, lassie. But bide ye +still and see. And indeed no one need wait till afterwards to know the +blessedness o' just lying quiet in His hands. And ye needna wait a day +for that, my dear bairn." + +If Jean had spoken, the tears must have come; so she rose and kissed her +aunt silently, and then went away. + +CHAPTER EIGHT. + +WILLIE CALDERWOOD. + +The name of Willie Calderwood had never been spoken between the sisters +since the day when, standing on the high rocks above the Tangle Stanes, +they had watched the "John Seaton" making out to sea. Jean was silent +for one reason, and May for another; and there were reasons enough that +both could see why silence was best, to prevent either of them from +feeling such silence strange. + +Willie Calderwood had been their companion and their brother's chief +friend in the days when they all played together on the rocks and sands +of Portie--in the days before George Dawson had admitted into his heart +the thought, that the wealth he had won, and the estate he had made his +own, gave his children a right to look higher for their friends than +among their less prosperous neighbours. But his children were not of +the sort that forget easily, nor were the Calderwoods the sort of +friends to be easily forgotten. Willie had always been a leader among +them, a handsome, fearless, kindly lad, and he became a hero to them +all, when he went to sea and came home to tell of shipwreck first, and +then of strange adventures among strange people; of hunger and cold and +suffering, and escape at last. + +A hero! There were many such heroes in Portie who had suffered all +these things and more--old men and men old before their time who had +passed their lives in whaling ships on the northern seas; who had been +wounded or maimed in battles with northern bears and walruses, and with +northern frost and snow; and even they made much of the lad who had +begun his battles so early. So no wonder that he was a hero to his +chosen companions and friends. + +"They were jist a' bairns thegither," as Miss Jean had said; but it was +during that summer, the last of his mother's life, that young George +lost his heart to bonny Elsie, and it was during that summer too, that +the visionary glory that rested on the name of the returned sailor +carried captive the imagination of his sister Jean. She did not forget +him while she was away from Portie; but when she returned they did not +fall into their old friendly ways with one another. + +That would have been impossible even if the sad story of George and +Elsie had never been to tell; for Jean was a woman by this time, and she +was Miss Dawson of Saughleas, and he was but the second mate of a +whaling ship; a brave man and a good sailor, but not the equal of the +rich man's daughter as times were now. So they seldom met, and when +they did meet, it was not as it used to be in the old times between +them. He never sought her out when they met in the houses of their +mutual friends, and when the circumstances of the moment brought them +together, he was polite and deferential and not at his ease. Jean would +fain have been friendly and tried to show it, and not knowing then of +her father's anger, because of his son's love, she could not but wonder +at her ill success. + +"Maybe he is like Tibbie Cairnie, and thinks you are set up with London +pride," said May laughing. "If I were you, I would ask him." + +But Jean never asked him, and he was not long in Portie after they +returned. But when he came back again it was very much the same. He +was at home the greater part of the winter before he sailed with the +"John Seaton," and they met him often at other houses, though he never +went to Saughleas. There were times when they seemed to be felling back +into their old friendliness, and Jean, who was noted in their small +circle for the coolness with which she accepted or rejected the +compliments, or the graver attentions of some who seemed to seek her +favour, grew gentle and winning, and even playful or teasing, when any +movement in the room brought the young sailor to her side. + +"She is just the Jean of the old days," poor Willie said to himself, and +he could say nothing better than that. They fell back at such times +into the kindly speech of their childhood "minding" one another of this +or that happy day when they were "a' bairns thegither." They could say +little of Elsie who was dead, or of George who was lost, in a bright +room with others looking on, but the tears that stood in Jean's "bonny +een" told more than words could have done of her love and sorrow for +them both. If she had known all, she might have thought it wise to say +nothing; but her words and her wet eyes were as drops of sweet to the +lad in the midst of much bitterness. He did not always go home cheered +and comforted after the sweetness; but Jean did, telling herself that at +last they were friends as they used to be--till they met again, and then +the chances were, that her "friend" was as silent and deferential and as +little eager, apparently, to seek her company as ever; and she could +only comfort herself with the thought that the fault was not hers. + +So it went on strangely and sadly enough for a while, and then Jean +began to see that though he shunned rather than sought her, he seemed +friendly enough with her sister. He seemed to seek her out, and to have +much to say to her; and why he should be friendly with May and not with +her, she could not easily understand. + +"Unless--and even then?" said Jean to herself with a little sinking of +the heart. + +She did not follow out her thought at the moment, but it came back to +her afterwards, and on the high rocks as they watched the departing +ship, she thought she saw it all clearly, and that she was content. He +was her friend, and if he were May's lover, he would still be her +friend, and all the more because of that, and time would make all things +that might hinder their friendship now, clear to them both. + +But she did not speak to her sister about this. It was for May to speak +to her, she thought at first, and after a while it would not have been +easy to speak, and on the whole, silence was best. Then as she listened +to her aunt's story of their brother and Elsie, and of their father's +opposition and anger, she was not sure that silence was best. How much +of it May might know, she could not tell; but sooner or later she must +know it all, and if there was trouble before her, it would make it none +the easier to bear, but all the heavier, the longer the knowledge was +kept from her. But she shrank from speaking all the same. + +"I will tell her to-night," she said as she sat by her aunt's side. But +she did not, nor the next, and even on the third night she sat long in +the dark when the house was silent, listening to the wind among the +trees, and the dull sound of the sea, and the painful beating of her own +heavy heart, before she found courage to go into her sister's room. + +"If she is asleep, I will not wake her." + +But May was not asleep. She had been lingering over various little +things that she had found to do, and had only just put out her light +when her sister softly opened the door. She seemed to sleep, however, +as Jean leaned over to listen, but as she turned away, May laughed +softly. + +"Well, what is it? I dinna think I have done any thing so very foolish +to-day--not more than usual, I mean." + +For, in her elder sisterly care for her, Jean thought it wise to drop a +word of counsel now and then, and this was the hour she usually chose to +do it. She stooped down and kissed her as she turned, a circumstance +that did not very often occur between them. For though they loved one +another dearly, they were--after the manner of their kin and country-- +shy of any expression of love or even of sympathy in the way of +caresses. + +"Is there any thing wrong?" said May startled. "Did any one ever tell +you about--about our Geordie and Elsie Calderwood, May? Auntie Jean has +been speaking about them to me lately." + +It was not a very good beginning, but she did not know what better to +say. May raised herself up, and looked eagerly in her sister's face. + +"I have heard something. Do you mean that you only heard it the other +day?" + +"Tell me all you know," said Jean, leaning down on the bed beside her. +"And why did you not tell me before?" + +"I did not like--and I thought you must ken about it." + +"Ah! yes. It is sad enough. No wonder you didna like to speak about +it. But tell me now all you know." + +And May did so, and it was very nearly all there was to tell. She had +heard the story, not straight through from beginning to end, as Jean had +heard it from her aunt, but from words dropped now and then by one and +another of their friends. And Jean could not but wonder that, May +having heard so much, she herself should have heard so little. But May +knew little of the part her father had taken in the separation of the +lovers, how angry he had been, and how determined to put an end to what +he called the folly of his son. It was just this that May ought to +know, and Jean told it in as few words as possible. She wondered a +little at the way in which her sister seemed to take it all. + +"Poor Elsie! But she might have died even if she had not been sent to +the school. How little folk ken! They say in Portie that her mother +sent her away that she might learn things that would fit her to be the +wife of young Mr Dawson, and by and by the lady of Saughleas--and that +her pride got a fall. It is a sorrowful story, Jean." + +"And the saddest part of it to us is, that poor Geordie is lost and gone +from us. And even if he were to come home, it might be little better." + +"Is my father angry yet, Jean? Or is he sorry? Would he do the same if +it were all to do over again?" + +"Who can say! He has many thoughts about it, doubtless, and some of +them cannot but be bitter enough. But as to his doing differently--" +Jean shook her head. + +"But, Jean, I canna blame my father altogether. His heart was set on +his only son, and George was but a boy." + +"Yes, and Aunt Jean says if he had but waited with patience my father +might have yielded at last." + +"Or George might have changed. He had seen no one else, and though +Elsie was good, and bonny too, there was a great difference between her +and--and some that we have seen,--ladies educated and accomplished as +well as beautiful. And, Jean, I canna but be sorry for my father." + +"Sorry! That says little. My heart is like to break for him whiles-- +and it might have been so different!" said Jean sadly. + +"If he were living, we should have heard from him before this time." + +"Who can say? Oh! he is living! I canna think he is dead. Poor papa, +he must have a sore heart often." + +"Jean," said her sister after a long silence, "do you think he would do +it all over again? I mean--do you think he would be as hard on--you or +me?" + +"Do you mean--Willie?" asked Jean at last. "Well--Willie or another. +It is not easy for my father to change." + +"No, it is not. But, May, have patience. Things often come round in +strange ways when we least expect it. If George would only come again! +How long is it since the `John Seaton' sailed?" + +"A good while since." + +Jean could have told her sister the days and even the hours that had +passed since then, but she did not. When she asked the question, it was +her brother she was thinking of; but May, who could not know that, +believed that she was thinking of Willie Calderwood. + +"He may be captain next voyage," said May. "But I wish he could leave +the sea altogether. My father could open the way for that, if he +chose." + +"Leave the sea? Is it Willie you are speaking about? He would never do +it. May, you must not ask it of him. It would be putting him in a +false position altogether. He is a true sailor." + +"Oh! I shall not ask him. It would do little good. But I wonder at +you all the same. You have no ambition. He can never be more than just +a sea captain--and always away." + +"A sea captain!" repeated Jean. "A sailor!--And what would you have? +Would you put him behind the counter in a shop? or set him to casting up +figures or counting money in a bank? Would you even old Mr Petrie or +James or any of them with the like of him?" + +May laughed. "Oh! well, a sailor let him be. But ye needna flee at me +as though I had said something horrible. And we needna vex ourselves. +That will do no good." + +"It must be late," said Jean rising. "She takes it quietly enough, and +it is well she does. It would wear her out to be ay thinking and +fearing and longing for his coming home, as I long for poor George's. +She is ay light-hearted, dear child. God bless her," added Jean with a +sigh. + +The rest of the summer passed quietly away. The little Corbetts went +home strong and brown and with a wonderful knowledge of and delight in +their father's mother tongue, rejoicing over the invitation for another +visit the next summer, if all should be well. + +They were much missed in Saughleas, and so was Miss Jean, who, though +she enjoyed a visit to her brother and her nieces now and then, liked +best the quiet of her own house, and the silent secret doing of the work +which she had chosen among the sinful and suffering poor creatures of +which, especially in winter-time, Portie had its share. Her stay at +Saughleas had done her good. She left her crutch behind her there, and +she was able now to go with her staff in one hand and "help and comfort" +in the other, to those who in the back sheets and lanes of the town +needed her help most. At Saughleas they missed her greatly, for various +reasons, and chiefly for this, that at meal times, and at other times +also, Mr Dawson was ready to fall into his old habit of silence and +reserve, when left alone with his daughters. This silence was good +neither for them nor for himself. + +"And I am going to try and have it otherwise," said Jean to herself, as +she sat behind the urn, waiting for his coming the first morning they +were alone. + +He came in as usual with a bundle of papers in his hand, letters that +had been received last night, and that must be answered this morning as +soon as he reached the bank, and in the mean time he meant to look them +over while he drank his coffee. + +"I think," said his daughter looking straight into his face as he +adjusted his spectacles, so that he might not let her remark fall as +though it had been made to her sister, "I think Aunt Jean is the woman +the most to be envied among all the women I know." + +"Ay! Think ye that? And what new light ha'e ye gotten about her +to-day?" said her father, arrested by her look rather than her words. + +"No new light. Only I have been thinking about her last night and +to-day. She is the best woman I know, and the happiest; and I envy +her." + +"Ye have but to follow in her steps, and ye'll be as good as she is,--in +time," said her father dryly. "As to her happiness--I should say she +perhaps makes the most of the means of happiness given to her, but +otherwise I see little cause that you have to envy her. She is +reasonable, and doesna let her wishes and her fancies get the better of +her good sense, and so she is content." + +"And if I were reasonable, would I be content, I wonder? As to being as +good--that must come of higher teaching and peculiar discipline, and I +doubt I shall never be good in her way." + +"And what for no? Your aunt would be the first to tell you that you can +get the higher teaching for the asking. And as for discipline--the +chances are ye'll get your share as well as the rest of us." + +"But not just in the same way. A long, patient, laborious, +self-forgetting life hers has been--has it not? She is strong and she +has been successful; yet she is not hard. She is good, but she is not +down on wrong-doers in the way that some good folk are. If I had my +choice, I think I would choose to have just such a life as she has had-- +if it would make me like her." + +Mr Dawson looked at his daughter in some surprise. Jean was not +looking at him, but over his head far away to the sea, bright for the +moment, under a gleam of sunshine. + +"Would that be your choice? A life of labour, and then the life of a +solitary single woman! I think I see you!" said her father with +something like indignation in his tones. + +May laughed. Jean's eyes came back from the sea with a vague, wistful +look in them that startled her father. + +"I think, Jean, ye hardly ken what ye're speaking about." + +"Yes. About Aunt Jean. `A solitary single woman?' No. Not solitary. +That has such a sorrowful sound. Oh! she is not solitary in an unhappy +sense; even when she is quite alone in her own house by the sea." + +"What I mean is, that she has neither husband nor child. She is alone +in that sense. And if ye think that she hasna whiles felt--weel--as if +she had missed something in life--that's no' my thought." + +"Yes--and that is part of the discipline, I suppose. Missed something-- +yes. But then, having had these things she might have missed that which +makes her different from, and better than, any one else. I ken no one +like my Aunt Jean." + +"Weel--ye're no' far wrong there. And if ye had kenned her in her +youth, you would have said the same. There were none like her then more +than now. But she's growing unco frail-like now, poor body?" added Mr +Dawson with a sigh. + +And then there was more said. Mr Dawson went on to tell many stories +of his sister's youth, all going to prove that there were few like her +for sense and goodness even then. Most of these his daughters had heard +before, but they liked to listen all the same. And Mr Dawson forgot +his letters, and Jean forgot that it was only to keep his eyes away from +them, that she had begun to speak about her aunt, and she took courage +because of her success. + +CHAPTER NINE. + +AN INVITATION. + +She was not always so successful; still she was successful to a degree +that surprised herself, in withdrawing her father from the silent and +sombre musings which of late had become habitual to him. This was the +work which she set herself. Her time, while he was in the house, or +near it, was given to him. She disturbed him doubtless now and then +when he would have been better pleased to be left to himself; but upon +the whole he responded to her advances, and by and by showed in many +ways that he counted upon her interest in whatever he might be doing, +and on such help as she could give. + +In all matters connected with the management of the estate he took +especial pains to claim her attention and interest. She tramped with +him over the wet autumn fields in all weathers, and listened to his +plans for the improvement of the place in the way of dikes and ditches +and drains, and to plans that went further than these--plans which it +would take years to carry out well and wisely. Her interest was real +for the moment, and soon it became eager and intelligent as well. She +not only listened to him, but she discussed, and suggested, and even +differed from him in various matters, and held to her own opinions in a +way that certainly did not displease him. + +She tired of it all sometimes, however, and though she permitted no sign +of it to appear to her father, she could not always hide it from her +sister. + +"And what is the good of it all? You cannot surely be vain enough to +think that you are doing any good, or that papa cares to have you +tramping about in the wet and the wind." + +"Oh, I like it! And I may as well do it as any thing else. As to +papa--yes, I think he likes it. I am better than no one to speak to, +and--oh yes, I like it!" + +"It is all nonsense!" said May with a shrug. "As for papa, he might +enjoy it, if it were Peter Stark, or John Stott, or any one that could +understand him, or give him a sensible answer;--but you!--What is the +use of it?--and just look at your shoes and stockings!" + +Jean looked down, as she was bidden, at her feet, and her soiled +petticoats. + +"They _are_ wet," said she, "and dirty." + +"And tell me if you can, what is the good of it all?" + +"It has made me hungry, and it will make me sleep, perhaps. And the +best reason for it is, that I like it--as well as any thing." + +She went away to change her wet things, and came back in her pretty +house dress with a knot of gay ribbon at her throat, looking wonderfully +bright and bonny her father thought as he came in at the hall door, and +so he noticed all the more readily, perhaps, how white and changed she +looked afterwards. When he also had changed his wet things, and came in +to sit down, she was standing in the darkening room, looking out at the +window, leaning on the ledge as though she were tired, and she did not +turn round as he passed her to take his usual place at the fireside. + +"The days are drawing in fast," said he, by way of saying something. + +"Yes, it is already growing dark. I cannot see the sea." + +"Ye needna care. It is an angry sea to-night, and the wind is rising." + +"Yes, the moan of it is in among the trees already, and before morning +it will be a cry--a terrible sharp cry--that will not be shut out. An +ill night for those at sea." + +"By no means. The folk at sea are safe enough, so that they bide away +from the shore. There will be worse nights than this, and many of them, +before the winter be over." + +"The long, long winter! And think what it must be in Greenland seas, +with the ice and the dark, and the bitter cold." + +"Lassie, draw the curtains and come to the fire. What ails you at the +wind and the sea to-night, more than usual? Draw the curtains, and shut +out the night, and come and make the tea." + +And then when Jean did his bidding and turned from the window, he saw +that her face was white and her eyes strained and anxious. She came to +the fire and stooped down, warming her hands at the blaze. + +"One would think you were a sailor's wife, and that his ship was in +danger," said her father. + +"It is the book she has been reading," said her sister. "That American +book about the men who sailed in search of Sir John Franklin and his +crew. What pleasure there can be in poring over any thing so dismal, is +more than I can tell." + +"That is because you do not know. It gives one courage to know that +there have been men--that there are men--so patient and so brave. Their +leader was a hero," said Jean with shining eyes. + +"Well, we'll have our tea now," said Mr Dawson in a tone that made May +think he was ill-pleased at something, though he said nothing more. He +was wondering what could have come to the lassie so to change the +brightness of the face that had met him at the door. May knew that Jean +must be thinking of the "John Seaton," but she knew that her father +could have no such thought. Nothing was said by any of them for a +while, but by the time tea was over, they had fallen into their ordinary +mood again, and spoke of other things. But afterwards Jean was sorry +that she had not taken courage that night to tell him how she had heard +that her brother had sailed in the "John Seaton" so long ago. + +For her secret knowledge burdened her sorely. That George should have +been at home and then have gone away again without a word, it would be +like to break his father's heart to know. The hope of seeing him when +the "John Seaton" came home might be better than the uncertainty of the +present. But if his anger still burned against his father, he might not +come home, and such a disappointment would be worse to bear than even +the present uncertainty. + +She wearied herself thinking about it, but she did not know what to do. +She longed to tell her aunt. She had almost done so, but her aunt had +forbidden her, or so she had thought. And months must still pass before +the "John Seaton" could be in port again. + +Her thoughts were with her brother night and day, and she was +pre-occupied and grave, and grew white and anxious-eyed; and by and by +it added to her trouble, to know that her father was observing her. So +when he was in the house, all her thoughts were given to the effort to +be just as usual. She talked cheerfully and had visitors at the house; +and when they were alone she worked busily and steadily, falling back, +when her white seam failed her, on May's embroidery; and did her best to +grow enthusiastic with her sister over silks and wools of brilliant hue. + +She practised her music also, and took courage to sing even when her +father was in the house. It needed some courage, for their mother had +been one of the sweetest of singers, and their father had never heard +the voices of his daughters since the days when they used to stand at +their mother's side, and sing the songs she loved. + +No harm came of it. Though her father made no remarks, she knew that he +listened to her voice in the dark, and if it woke the old sense of pain +and loss, it stirred neither anger nor rebellion, as the gentleness of +his words and ways made her sure. + +And so the winter wore on with the usual breaks in the way of +hospitalities given and received till the days began to lengthen--and +then something happened. + +There came to the girls an invitation from a friend, to pass a month or +two with her in London. The friend had been Miss Browning, their +favourite teacher in their London school. Now she was Mrs Seldon, the +wife of a young city merchant, "as happy as the day is long," she wrote, +and she promised them a taste of many enjoyments, if they would come and +see her as mistress of her own pretty house--free now to come and go at +her own will and pleasure. Much she said to induce them to come, and +much was not needed, as far as May was concerned. + +Mr Dawson might have hesitated as to accepting an invitation for his +daughters into an unknown household, even though he had every confidence +in the good sense and discretion of the lady who invited them. But +strangely enough, it happened that Mr Seldon was the son of almost the +only man in London with whom he had ever had other than mere business +intercourse, and the young man himself was not altogether a stranger to +him. As men of business, father and son were worthy of respect, and +socially occupied an unexceptionable position, and Mr Dawson was more +than pleased that his daughters should see something of London, in +circumstances so favourable as a residence with such people would imply. +So his consent was given readily. + +Jean listened and said little through all the preliminary discussion of +the matter; but when it was settled that the invitation was to be at +once accepted, she quietly declined to leave home. + +She gave several good reasons why one should pay the visit rather than +them both, and several why it should be May that should pay it. She +gave several reasons also, why it would be wrong for both of them to +leave home at once. Their father would be left in the house alone. +Their aunt was by no means strong. Indeed if there were no other reason +she would never think of leaving her alone during the spring months, +which had during the last few years been so trying to her. Then there +had been something said about certain changes to be made in the early +spring in the grounds and gardens. These might certainly be put off +till another year, as her father suggested, but it would be a pity to do +so, and if they were to be made, Jean must be at home to superintend +them. + +"And indeed, papa, it was May who used to be Miss Browning's friend, +much more than I. Mrs Seldon would enjoy May's company better than +mine, and May would take ten times the pleasure that I should take. How +should I have any pleasure knowing that my sister was lonely and +disappointed at home. As to both going, it is out of the question. And +I can go next time." + +Of course Mr Dawson could not do otherwise than yield to such an array +of good reasons, especially as May was as eager to go as her sister was +to stay; but he had an uneasy feeling that Jean herself had needed none +of these good reasons to induce her to remain. It pleased him, of +course, that she should like home best, and he was glad not to be left +to the trial of a silent and forsaken house during a gloomy month or +two. But it did not please him that Jean should care so little for the +enjoyment that her sister anticipated with such delight. It was not +natural, and he wearied himself trying to imagine what it might be. + +"I will see what my sister says about it," thought he. + +But in the mean time he could only let her take her way; and he and May +set out together on their journey, for he would not permit his daughter +to travel alone. + +And then for a few days Jean had the house to herself, and during these +days, she became aware of one thing. She must turn her thoughts away +from the constant dwelling on poor lost Geordie, and his wanderings on +northern seas, or she would lose the power of thinking or caring for any +one or any thing in the world besides. + +It had nearly come to that already. If the wind blew, it was of him she +thought, and it was the same if the sun shone, or the rain fell. Night +and day her heart was heavy with fears for him. It was the shipping +news she read first in the papers, about storms and wrecks of whale +ships that had come home, and of some that might never come, till she +grew morbid and heartsick with her doubts and her fears. + +When she went to the town, or took her daily walk by the sea, she spoke +with the fishermen about the signs of wind and weather, and with certain +old sailors--long past sailing because of age and rheumatism--about the +voyages they had made, and about the dangers of the deep, and the +dreariness of Arctic seas when winter nights were long and the days "but +a blink." And of late, she had come to be aware that now and then as +they talked, there was a look of wondering curiosity in their dim old +eyes. They took her sixpences, and her "bits o' backey" with smiles and +nods of encouragement, and with assurances "that there was nothing like +keeping a stout heart and a cheerful, on the shore as well as on the +sea." + +"And they canna ken about Geordie," she said to herself wondering. + +No; they did not know about Geordie; but they saw the weary, wistful +looks ever turned to the sea, and they could not but know that they must +mean something, though neither kith nor kin of hers had sailed from the +harbour of Portie, as far as they knew, for many a day. And thinking +about their words and their looks, she told herself, that unless she +meant to fall into utter uselessness and folly, she must shake herself +free from this dull brooding over her fears. For the suspense must +continue for months yet--perhaps for many months, and she began to be +afraid for herself at the thought. + +"I wonder what the sailors' wives do, and their mothers and sisters all +these wintry months? Do they sit and think of the danger, and the +distance, and the long suspense? No, they must live and have patience, +and take the good of other things, and trust in God--as I must, if I +would not go wild. _They_ get through, and I must. + +"But then I must never speak about him, and my fears for him, and that +must make it worse to bear. Oh, if I had but told my father that first +night! How can I wait on for months like this?" and Jean suffered +herself to cry as she had never cried before. She might cry this once +since there was no one at home to notice the traces of tears. But all +the same she knew that she must make a braver stand against the trouble +that oppressed her, and even amid her tears she was saying that +to-morrow she would begin. + +And so when to-morrow came, instead of going toward the wild sea shore +above the town, she set out to go directly to her aunt. It was not an +agreeable day for a walk. It was not raining, but the mud was deep on +the road, and the fields which Jean liked best at such times, were in +places under water; and a wide ditch here and there was so full, that +she had doubts of being able to get across, since the footing on either +side could not but be insecure in the prevailing wetness. So she kept +the highway, warily picking her steps, and meeting the wind from the sea +with a sense of refreshment--and by and by with a conscious effect to +throw off the weight of care which had so long oppressed her. + +When she came to the corner at which she turned into the High-street, +she saw Marion Calderwood coming toward her with her music book under +her arm. A pretty sight she was to see, and a welcome as she sprang +forward, greeting her joyfully. But a shadow passed over the girl's +face when the first words were spoken. + +"Oh! yes. I am very glad to see you, and Miss Jean will be glad too. +But if ye hadna come in this morning, I was going out to see what had +become of you. Your aunt bade me ask my mother to let me go when my +lesson was over--and--I think she would have let me." + +"And she'll let you still. Run away now to your lesson, and you'll find +me at Aunt Jean's, and we'll go out together." + +Marion looked doubtful. "My mother would have let me go to oblige Miss +Jean, but--she does not approve of my leaving my other lessons, for one +thing--and besides--" + +"Run away. I'll ask your mother. She'll let you go home with me, if I +ask her." + +Marion was not very sure, nor was Jean. For Mrs Calderwood was a very +proud woman, and her pride took the form of reserve, and a determined +avoidance of any thing that looked like claiming consideration or +attention from those whom, from their circumstances, she might suspect +of wishing to hold themselves above her. + +And there were reasons of another kind, Jean well knew, why she should +look with little friendliness on any one in the house of Saughleas-- +reasons that must prevent all renewal of the intimacy that had been so +warm and pleasant during her mother's lifetime. Still she had almost +always been friendly in manner with Jean when they had chanced to meet, +but Jean had been but seldom in her house since she had come from +school, and she was glad of the excuse which her proposed invitation to +Marion gave her to go there. For it had come into her mind that she +might speak to Mrs Calderwood about the trouble which she found it not +easy to bear alone. + +CHAPTER TEN. + +MRS CALDERWOOD. + +Mrs Calderwood's house faced the sea a little nearer the pier head than +Miss Jean's, and Miss Dawson nodded and smiled to her aunt in the window +as she passed, hardly confessing to herself that she felt a little +anxious as to how she might be received. + +"But she'll not be likely to put on her stiff, silent manner in her own +house," said she, encouraging herself. + +Mrs Calderwood was not alone. Mrs Cairnie was with her, asking advice +and sympathy for "a beeled thoom," and Mrs Calderwood was in the act of +applying a warm poultice to relieve the pain. In the poor old woman's +eagerness to tell her troubles to a new listener, the awkwardness of the +first moment was got over. Nor was Mrs Cairnie in any hurry to leave +when the interesting subject was exhausted. + +"So ye didna gang up to Lunnon with your father, Miss Dawson? Ye're +wise to bide and let the great folk come to seek you. It's a thankless +job whiles gaen after them." + +This of course required no reply. + +"And are ye your leafu' lane at Saughleas? But I suppose ye're used +with it now--the big hoose and the few in it. It is changed times since +ye used to bide in the High-street. But being an eddicated leddy, ye'll +ha'e resources in yoursel', as the books say." + +No, Miss Dawson did not like being "her leafu' lane" in the big empty +house, and she turned to Mrs Calderwood with her request for Marion's +company. But Tibbie had not yet said her say. + +"Your leafu' lane! It's little ye ken what that means. Bide ye till +the time come when ye lie through the lang nichts o' a hale (whole) +winter, hearkening to the awfu' things that the winds and the waves are +crying in at your window and doon your lum (chimney), and some o' yours +far awa' on the sea--and syne ye'll ken. Oh! the weariness o't, and the +dreariness o't, and nae help frae Heaven aboon nor frae earth beneath, +but just to sit still and wait for their hame coming. And whiles they +come, and whiles they never come--and ane canna be sure even o' their +loss till years go by. Eh! woman' ye little ken, but speir ye at Mrs +Calderwood." + +She paused a moment in the surprise of seeing Jean's face grow pale as +she listened, but went on again before any one spoke. + +"I'm through wi't, for the last o' mine was lost lang syne. But she has +ane yet--as far as she kens. God be gude to him! Ye've had no word o' +the `John Seaton' as yet, mem?" + +"Not yet; it is not to be expected yet," said Mrs Calderwood quietly. +"Martha will give you a cup of tea. You will be the better of it, as +you were able to take little breakfast; and I hope your thumb is past +the worst now." + +Mrs Cairnie felt herself to be dismissed beyond even her power to +linger. + +"Many thanks to ye, mem, and ye ha'e nae occasion to be mair anxious +than ordinar' as yet. And ye can just encourage ane another--and I'se +awa' hame." + +"Poor bodie! she has had her share of trouble in her day, and some of it +she brought on herself, which makes it none the lighter, I dare say," +said Mrs Calderwood as she shut the door. + +"You are not growing anxious, Mrs Calderwood, are you?" said Jean. "It +is not time to be anxious yet?" + +"Not anxious--more than usual. Oh, no! Of course the wind and the +waves have something to say to me most nights. But I can only wait." + +"Yes, it is the waiting that is so terrible. And it must be for a good +while yet." + +"For months. We cannot say how many. We seldom see the ships home +within the year." + +"And the `John Seaton' sailed on the tenth of April. It is nearly three +months still till then. And to think of all who are waiting even here +in Portie--wives and mothers and sisters. It makes one's heart sick to +think about it." + +Then she sat silent, with her eyes turned toward the window, through +which was to be seen the dull grey sea, all unconscious of the uneasy +glances with which Mrs Calderwood was from time to time regarding her. + +"Mrs Calderwood," said she at last, "how will you ever bear it as the +time draws near? The waiting and the suspense, I mean?" + +"My dear, I have had worse troubles to bear." + +"Ah! yes; but those will make this all the worse to bear." + +"I can but trust in God and have patience. He is very merciful." + +"Very merciful. But then--He lets terrible things happen whiles." + +Mrs Calderwood rose and moved about the room. She was startled out of +her usual quiet by the girl's changing colour and the sad eagerness of +the eyes that looked out upon the sea. She was afraid of what might be +said if they went on. She wished to hear no sorrowful secret from the +girl's lips. She would hear none, she said to herself with a sudden +sharp pang of remembrance. George Dawson's daughter could have nothing +to say to which it would be right for her to listen. At last Jean left +the window and came and stood near the fire. + +"I came in to ask you if I might have Marion home with me for a day or +two. I am `my leafu' lane,' as Tibbie says. And I think she would like +to come with me." + +"There is little doubt of that," said Mrs Calderwood sitting down with +a sense of relief, for she thought the danger was over. + +"There is no danger of her falling behind in her lessons for a day or +two, and I can help her with her music. I will take good care of her, +and her company will be a great pleasure to me." + +There was no sufficient reason why the child should not have this +pleasure--at least there was none that could be spoken about. She had +no time to make clear to herself why she would have liked to refuse, she +could only say,-- + +"You are very kind. The child will be pleased to go," and Jean thanked +her, accepting it as consent. + +She was still standing with her muff in her hand as though she were +about to take her leave. But she did not go. She stood, not looking at +her friend, but past her, seeing nothing, with her eyes full of +eagerness and anxiety, and before Mrs Calderwood, moved by a sudden +fear, could find words to avert it, that which she feared had come upon +her. Jean came a step nearer. + +"Mrs Calderwood, may I tell you something? I have no one else, and you +will at least help me to be patient. You were my mother's friend, and +you have had much to bear, and will you help me?" + +But there was no friendly response in Mrs Calderwood's face. She +withdrew herself from the eager girl, with something like terror in her +eyes, actually moving away till she touched the wall of her narrow +parlour, holding up her hands entreatingly. + +"No. Do not tell me. I am not the right person to receive confidences +from--from any one. I am not sympathetic I do not care to hear secrets. +And--you have your aunt." + +Jean looked at her with surprise but with no anger in her eyes. + +"My aunt! I tried to tell her once, but she said unless I were quite +sure that she could help me, I should not speak. It would have grieved +her--and--" + +"She was quite right, I have no doubt," said Mrs Calderwood. "The +least said is soonest mended, as the old saying has it. Silence is +almost always best, even between friends." + +Mrs Calderwood had come forward again to the table, and her hands were +busy moving about various things upon it, hurriedly and heedlessly, as +though she hardly knew what she was doing; while Jean looked on saying +nothing for a little. + +"Is silence always best? It would be such a comfort to me to be able to +tell some one. I daze myself thinking about it. I am sorry now that I +did not tell my father at once, though at the time it did not seem the +wisest thing to do--or even possible. It was on the very day the ship +sailed--the tenth, ye ken. And--" + +"Whisht, lassie! I will not hear your secret," said Mrs Calderwood +with a cry which told of many things. "It is to your father that you +must tell it, if you have not the sense and courage to keep silence +forever. As for me, I will hear no secret from the lips of your +father's daughter. No good could come of it. Oh! must I go through +with all that again! And my poor, foolish Willie that I thought so wise +and strong!" + +She hardly seemed to know what she was saying for the moment. But she +made a great effort to restrain herself, and rose and came forward, +holding out her hand as if the visit were at an end. But she paused, +startled as she met Jean's look. + +A sudden momentary wave of colour crimsoned her face and even her +throat, and passing left her as white as death. Through it all she +never turned her eyes from the face of her friend. + +"Mrs Calderwood," said she in a voice that scarcely rose above a +whisper, "I think I must tell you now--that my brother George sailed in +the `John Seaton.'" + +Mrs Calderwood sat down on the sofa without a word. Of what horrible +thing had she been guilty? What words had she spoken? She could not +recall them, but the girl's changing colour showed that her thoughts had +been understood. In her sorrow and shame she could have knelt and +entreated forgiveness. But she well knew that _now_ at least, silence +was best. No words of hers could help the matter now. It cost her +positive pain to raise her eyes to the girl's face. The colour came and +went on it still, almost at every word; but Jean spoke quietly and +firmly, and never turned her eyes from the face of her friend. + +"You are right perhaps, and I ought to have spoken to my father at once; +but since I have waited so long, it may be as well to wait till the +`John Seaton' comes in--and I must have patience--like the rest of those +who wait." + +"Are you sure he went? My son said nothing to me about George--poor +dear Geordie?" said Mrs Calderwood, with a sudden rush of tears. + +Jean sat down on the other side of the table and leaned her head on her +hand. + +"Did he not? Still I think he must have gone--or what can have become +of him?" + +"Who told you he went? It is strange that you have never spoken of it +all this time. Why do you think that your brother sailed in the `John +Seaton'?" + +"Is it strange? Perhaps I was quite wrong. But I did not know till +afterwards. Robbie Saugster brought word that day to Saughleas, but I +had gone to the town. That night he came back again, but it was too +late. The ship had sailed, and we had been at the high rocks to see her +pass, May and I--never thinking whom she was carrying away." + +"And had Robbie seen him?" + +"No. I never asked him. I don't think he knew. It was in a note that +I got from--your son." + +"And what did he say?" asked Mrs Calderwood in a little. "He said I +was to come to the pier head before the ship sailed, and that perhaps I +might be able to persuade my brother--though he could not. But he came +too late. The ship had sailed." + +"Well, we can only wait now till she comes home again." + +"Yes, we can only wait. I am glad he went with--Willie, who will be +good to him. That is all my comfort." + +"Yes, Willie will stand his friend whatever happens." There was no more +said, for Marion came dancing in. "Yes, Mavis dear, your mother says +you may come home with me. I must go and see Aunt Jean first, and you +will find me there." + +"And, Miss Dawson, take a good rest, and we'll go round by the sea +shore. It is so long since I had a walk with you. See the sun is +coming out after all." + +"Well," said Jean nodding and smiling. Then she shook hands with Mrs +Calderwood, but they did not linger over their good-byes. Marion turned +a wistful look to her mother's face when they were alone. But her +mother would not meet it, but hastened her away. + +Jean turned towards the pier head, to let the wind from the sea blow her +hot cheeks cool, before she came into her aunt's sight, and as she went +she was saying to herself,-- + +"It was May she was thinking about I could not speak, because May has +never spoken to me. And after all--I dare say she is right. `The sense +and courage to keep silence.' No wonder that his mother should say +that, who can never forget her poor bonny Elsie." + +It was mid-day--the hour when the usual frequenters of the pier head +were home at their dinners, and Jean stood alone for some time looking +out to the sea, and thinking her own thoughts. They were troubled +thoughts enough. "The sense and courage to keep silence." Her +temptation was not to speech. It was sense and courage to speak that +she needed. + +Her aunt too had told her that silence was best--that foolish fancies, +that might have vanished otherwise, sometimes took shape and became +troubles when put into words. All at once it came into Jean's mind, +that it could not have been of her brother's loss, but of something +quite different that her aunt had been thinking when she said this. +Could it have been of May and Willie Calderwood? + +"She too must think that my father would never yield, and that it would +be just the same sad story over again. But still, I am not sure that +silence is best." + +By and by those who worked or loitered on the pier head, came dropping +back in twos and threes, and Jean knew that unless she would keep her +aunt's dinner waiting she must go. Miss Jean had said to herself that +the first word spoken would reveal to the girl her own sad secret. But +it had not done so--or she would not acknowledge it--even though the +remembrance of Mrs Calderwood's words and manner brought a sudden hot +colour to her face. + +"It was May she was thinking about," she repeated, as she went down the +street. + +She looked "bonny and bright--a sicht for sair e'en," Nannie, her aunt's +maid, said, when she came in. She did not stay very long. She had +intended to spend the day, but Marion Calderwood was going home with +her, and she would have to come another day, she told her aunt. + +Indeed Marion came in before dinner was over, and Jean was glad to have +a long walk and the young girl's gay companionship, rather than an +afternoon of quiet under her aunt's keen, though loving, eyes. + +CHAPTER ELEVEN. + +A VISITOR. + +Mr Dawson was longer away than he had intended to be when he left. A +visit was made to the Corbetts on the way, and from thence came a letter +telling Jean to prepare to receive another visitor when her father +should return. Hugh, the Corbett who came next after Emily, a schoolboy +of fourteen, had been so unfortunate as to hurt his knee in some of his +holiday wanderings during the previous summer, and had been a prisoner +in the house for months, and Mr Dawson proposed to bring him to Portie +for a change. + +Jean was promised no pleasure from the visit. The lad was ill, and "ill +to do with," irritable and impatient of his long confinement in the +house. There was little enough space in the Corbett house for those who +were well, and it would do the lad good to see something else besides +the four walls of the rather dim parlour where he had been a prisoner so +long. He must be a prisoner even at Saughleas for a time, poor lad; but +when the spring came so that he could get out, and get the good of the +sea air, he would doubtless be better; and in the mean time, said her +father, Jean must make the best of him. + +The next letter was from London, telling of their safe arrival, and kind +reception, but neither that nor the next, told the day on which Mr +Dawson might be expected home. Indeed it told nothing in a very +satisfactory manner; but Jean gathered that they found themselves in +very favourable circumstances for seeing many of the wonderful sights of +London, and the only thing they seemed to regret was, that Jean was not +there to enjoy it all with them. A good many names of people and places +were mentioned, but no very clear idea was conveyed with regard to them +all, and Jean was advised to wait patiently for her father's return to +hear more; and this she was content to do. + +Her father came home the better for his trip, Jean saw at the first +glimpse she got of his face. Of course the first minutes were given to +care of the lame boy, who was tired and shy, but when he had got his +tea, and was happily disposed of for the night, Jean sat down to hear +what her father had to tell. Not that she expected to hear much at any +one time. His news would come out by little and little on unexpected +occasions, as was his way with news, but he answered her questions about +her sister, and her friends, and gave his opinion of them and their +manner of life readily enough. He had evidently enjoyed his stay among +them, and acknowledged that he had known nothing of London before this +visit. + +Jean listened, pleased and interested; but all the time she was waiting +to hear a certain name which had occurred more than once in the brief +letters of her sister, and which had also been mentioned once at least +by her father. + +"And you went to the British Museum?" said she at last. + +"Yes. I had been there before, but this was different. It is one thing +to wander about, looking at things which you don't understand, till eyes +and mind and body grow weary,--and never a clear idea of any thing +gotten, to keep and carry away to look at afterwards--and it is quite +another thing to go about in the company of one who, by two or three +words, can put life and spirit into all there is to see. Mr Manners +was with us that day." + +And it seemed that Mr Manners had been with them other days, and on one +occasion when her father had mentioned his name several times, Jean +asked,-- + +"And who is Mr Manners? You have not told me who he is." + +"He is a man with a clear head o' his ain, who will make his mark yet, +or I'm much mistaken. No, he was not staying with the Seldons, though +he was there often. He has rooms near the university in which he is a +professor. I thought much of him." + +"What is he like? Is he old or young?" asked Jean. + +"Oh! he is not young. Not that he is to call old either. He is tall +and thin rather, and stoops a little, and he wears glasses whiles, but +not when he is reading." + +Jean laughed. + +"Stoops and wears glasses!" + +She was laughing at herself. She had been conscious of a little +discomfort, at the frequent mention of this man's name. A new interest +and influence had come into her sister's life in which she had no part, +and it saddened her though she acknowledged that her sadness was +unreasonable. But she was a little anxious as well as sad, because, +having so long watched over her sister, she feared that in the new +circumstances in which she found herself, her care might be needed and +missed--which was also unreasonable, since she might have gone with her +had she cared to do so, and since her sister had both sense and judgment +to care for herself. + +And for the special danger which was in Jean's thoughts--though she +would not allow that she feared it--surely May was safe from that. The +child liked attention and admiration, and got them wherever she went; +but her heart was not in her own keeping, as Jean believed, and so she +was safe, and would come back to them as she went; and Jean acknowledged +her own folly in being either anxious or sad. But all the same she +laughed and was, pleased, that the new friend she had found should be +"not young, though not just to call old," as her father had said, and +that he should stoop a little and wear glasses. So she determined to +put all unpleasant possibilities out of her thoughts, and the fact that +the professor's name no longer found frequent place in her sister's +letters, made it all the easier for her to do so. + +Besides, she had more to occupy herself as the winter passed away, and +less time to brood and vex herself; and as it was not in her nature when +she was well to vex herself without sufficient occasion, her occupations +helped her to a better kind of cheerfulness than that which of late she +had sometimes assumed for her father's sake. + +Young Corbett was her best help toward a more reasonable frame of mind +with regard to all things. The journey had been too much for him, or he +had in some way injured his knee again, for he suffered much pain in it +for a time, and his young hostess was kept constantly busy, ministering +to both mind and body. Dr Maitland, the chief Portie practitioner, +took a different view of the lad's case from that which the doctor at +home had taken, and he was subjected to different treatment which told +to his benefit after a time. But just at first he suffered a good deal, +and Jean "had her ain adoes wi' him," as Phemie, her maid, declared. + +He was not an ill-tempered boy, though Mr Dawson had received that +impression from what he had seen and heard in his own home. He +suffered, and he was irritable, and impatient of necessary restraint. +But he made an effort towards patience and submission to circumstances +in the presence of strangers which he possibly would not have made at +home, and the change and the quiet of the house helped his patience on +to cheerfulness before very long. + +"How my father and mother should have ventured to inflict such a +nuisance upon you amazes me; and how you should consent to it amazes me +more still," said he to Jean when he had been two days in the house, and +when he was beginning to feel himself not so strange and forlorn as he +had felt at first. + +"But I did not consent I was not consulted," said Jean laughing. + +"No," said the boy gravely. "And you could hardly refuse to have me +when I was laid down at your door. But that only makes it all the more +surprising that you should--take so much trouble with me." + +"But then it was to my father's door you came, and he brought you +himself. Don't be foolish. If I were lame and ill and needed your +help, would not you be willing to give it to me?" + +"But that would be quite different. And I could not help you, besides." + +"Well, never mind. I am glad papa brought you here. I am going, by and +by, to send you home strong and well, and fit to do a man's work in the +world. And in the mean time--though I acknowledge that you are whiles a +wee fractious and ill to do with--I like you. I'm glad my father +brought you here, and we'll be friends always," and Jean held out her +hand. + +The tears started in the lad's eyes. + +"It is very good of you," said he with a gasp. + +After that, life went better with him. When after a little he could be +taken every day and laid on the sofa in the parlour, he began to feel +the good of the change. He had plenty to amuse him. He liked reading, +well enough, as boys like it, but he was not a book worm; and Jean might +have found him heavy on her hands during the first weeks after he came +down-stairs, if he had had only books to fall back upon. But to her +surprise and his own, an unfailing source of interest and pleasure +presented itself to him. + +Scarcely a vessel for the least ten years had come into the harbour of +Portie without bringing some curious or beautiful thing to one member or +another of the Dawson family, until the house was filled with them. A +wonderful collection they made,--corals, shells, minerals, stuffed +birds, beetles, and butterflies; and a scarcely less wonderful +collection of objects of art and skill. A great trouble this +accumulation became to housemaids, and even to the young mistress of the +house, who could not always trust the dusting and keeping them in order +to unaccustomed hands. There were many valuable and beautiful things +among them, and almost all of them had some pleasant association with +the giver, which made it not easy to part with them even to persons who +would have valued them, or to put them out of sight. So there were a +great many of them scattered up and down in the house. + +In these the boy found constant interest and delight, and when he had +gone over all that were within his reach, he was quite ready to begin +again. And then Jean bethought herself of the quantities of things +which in past years had been bestowed in out-of-the-way corners of the +house, to make room for new treasures, and with some trouble to herself, +but with some pleasure also, these were sought out, and brought to the +lad, as he could not go to them. + +Of course the result was an untidy room, and after a while, confusion so +utter as not to be endured patiently. This lasted for a few days, and +then a chance word from the lad, suggested the idea of proper cases +being made in which all these things might be bestowed, and so arranged +as that they might be more carefully preserved, and made useful as well +as pleasant to look at. + +"There are few things in our town museum at home so rare or so beautiful +as several of these. I have been through ours scores of times. I like +it." + +Rather to Jean's surprise and much to her delight, her father took up +the idea as a good one, and entered into the discussion of the different +kinds of cases required, with interest. The cabinet-maker was sent for, +and by the help of Hugh's description of the arrangements made for such +things in the museum of his native town, they succeeded in settling all +things in a satisfactory manner. The long hall extending from one side +of the house to the other was the place to receive them. Therefore the +cases must be handsome as furniture as well as convenient for the +reception of the articles to be arranged in them; and in a shorter time +than would have at first seemed possible, John Helvie finished the work +in a way which pleased himself and his employers. + +In the mean time May was written to for books about shells and minerals, +and all such things; and Hugh, and even Jean, grew enthusiastic over +them. And so the last months of winter passed more quickly than the +first had done. May's visit was prolonged beyond the six weeks which +had been at first stipulated for, and the third month was nearly at an +end before any thing was said about her return. She was well and happy, +and her friend was happy in her company. She was not especially needed +at home, and neither her father nor her sister cared to shorten her +holiday, as she called it. But if Jean had known what was to be the end +of it all, the chances are that she would have been speedily recalled. + +As Hugh grew better and the weather became milder, a new means of +pleasure and health was presented to him by Mr Dawson in the shape of a +small Shetland pony. He was one trained to gentleness and past his +youth, so that there was no risk in riding, when the doctor's permission +had been obtained. It could hardly be called riding for some time. It +was slowly creeping along, with some one at his side, to make sure that +no stumble should harm the still painful knee; but it was a source of +much enjoyment to the lad who had been a prisoner so long. + +Jean was most frequently his companion, and at such times their +favourite course was along the sands when the tide was out, or by the +path which led over the rocks. They lingered often on their way, to +talk to the old sailors who remembered the lad's father and grandfather, +and who had much to tell about his grandfather's goodness, and his +father's wild exploits as a lad. They talked with the fishwives also in +the town, and made friends with the bairns, who, as the days grew +milder, came in flocks to their favourite playground, the sands above +the town. All this was good for the lad, who caught a little healthy +colour from the fresh sea breezes, and day by day, Mr Dawson thought, +grew more like his companion and chief friend in the days when they were +both young. + +But it was not so good for Jean. For their talk with the old sailors, +and the fishwives, and indeed their talk together, was mostly of the sea +and its dangers, the treasures which it hid, and the far lands that lay +beyond it. She told him tales of the sea, and repeated songs and +ballads made about sea kings and naval heroes of all times, and sang +them in the gloaming, with their wild refrains, which look like nonsense +written down, but which sung, as Jean could sing them, deepened the +pathos of the sad and sometimes terrible tales which were told; and the +lad was never weary of listening. + +And all this was not good for Jean. It stirred up again the old fears +and doubts and questionings as to whether she had done right to keep +silence about her brother, and whether she ought even now to speak. The +wistful, far-away look which her father could not bear to see, came back +to her eyes, now and then; and on stormy nights, when the moan of the +wind was in the trees, and the sound of the sea came up like a sigh, the +old restlessness, which in her father's presence she could only quiet by +constant and determined devotion to work of some kind, came upon her. +She could not read at such times or even listen. Her "white seam," on +which her father used to remark, was her best resource. He remarked on +it still, and not always pleasantly, and Jean began to be aware that his +eyes now followed her movements as they had done in the first part of +the winter, and that even when he occupied himself with a book, or with +his papers, he listened to the talk into which she and Hugh sometimes +fell. She did her best to be cheerful, and with the lad's help it was +easier than it had once been; and she comforted and strengthened herself +with the thought that the year was nearly over, and that it could not +now be long before the "John Seaton" came home. + +CHAPTER TWELVE. + +NORTHERN SEAS. + +"Do ye ken what ye are doing, Jean? Ye're doing your best to mak' a +sailor o' the lad; and ye'll do him an ill turn and get him into trouble +if that happens. His father has other plans for him." + +Her father had come in to find Jean singing songs in the gloaming. It +could hardly be said that she was singing to Hugh. She would very +likely have been singing at that hour, if she had been quite alone; but +she would not have been singing,-- + + "The Queen has built a navy of ships, + And she has sent them to the sea," + +in a voice that rang clear and full in the darkness, and she would not +have followed it with the ballad of "Sir Patrick Spens," which Mr +Dawson was just in time to hear. He was not sure about all this singing +of sea songs; but he said nothing at the time, and sat down to listen. + +He had heard the ballad scores of times, and sung it too; but he felt +himself "creep" and "thrill," as Jean--her voice now rising strong and +clear, now falling into mournful tones like a wail--went through the +whole seven and twenty verses. She said it rather than sung it, giving +the refrain, not at every verse, but only now and then; the pathos +deepening in her tones as she went on towards the end, when-- + + "The lift was black, and the wind blew loud, + And gurly grew the sea." + +and there were "tears in her voice" as she ended-- + + "And lang, lang may the ladies sit + Wi' their fans into their hands, + Before they see Sir Patrick Spens + Come sailing to the strand! + + "And lang, lang may the maidens sit + Wi' the gowd (gold) kames in their hair, + Awaiting for their ain true loves, + For them they'll see nae mair--" + +and then the refrain--which cannot be written down--repeated once and +again, each time more softly, till it seemed to die away and be lost in +the moan of the wind among the trees. No one spoke for a minute or two. + +"I think you might give us something mair cheerfu' than that, Jean, my +lassie," said her father, inclined to resent his own emotion and the +cause of it. "And in the gloaming too!" + +"The gloaming is just the time for such ballads, papa. But I didna ken +ye were come in. Shall I ring for lights now?" said Jean rising. + +"There's nae haste. It's hardly dark yet." + +Jean crossed the room to the window that looked out to the sea, and +leaning on it, as she had a fashion of doing, softly sang the refrain of +her song again. + +Her father could not see her face, but he knew well the look that was on +it at the moment,--a look which always pained him, and which sometimes +made him angry; and the chances are he would have spoken sharply to her, +if Hugh had not said after a little while, "But sailors don't go to sea +now to bring home king's daughters, or even to fight battles with their +foes. They go for wages, as the navvies do on railways, and the factory +people in the towns. It is just the common work of the world with them +as it is with others--buying and selling--fetching and carrying. There +is nothing heroic in that." + +"Of course--just the common work of the world. But I would not think +less, but more, of the courage and endurance needed to do it, because of +that," said Jean gravely, turning round to look at him. "It is just +like the navvies, as you say, that they may live and bring up their +families; and I think it is grand to leave their homes, and face danger, +just because it is their duty, and with no thought beyond." + +"They get used to the danger, and it is nothing to them, I suppose. And +it must be fine to be going here and there, and seeing strange +countries, and all sorts of people. I should like that I would like to +have gone with Sir Humphrey Gilbert, or Sir Walter Raleigh in the old +times. That must have been grand." + +"Yes," repeated Jean, as she came forward and sat down by the fire. +"That must have been grand--the sailing away over unknown seas to +unknown lands. They had hope, but they could have had no knowledge of +what was before them." + +"What did they care for danger or hardship, or even death! They were +opening the way to a new world." + +"Yes. If they could only have had a glimpse of all that was to follow! +I dare say they did too--some of them." + +"Yes; Walter Raleigh looked forward to great things. It was worth a +man's while to live as those men lived. It was not just for wages that +they sailed the sea." + +Mr Dawson laughed. + +"That is the way you look at it, is it? And how many--even among their +leaders--thought about much except the gold they were to find, and the +wealth and glory they were to win! It was as much work for wages then +as now. It is a larger world than it was in those days, but the folk in +it ha'e changed less than ye think; in that respect at least." + +There was a good deal more talk of the same sort, Jean putting in a word +now and then, and what she said, for the most part, went to show, that +in doing just the common work of the world, the buying and selling, the +fetching and carrying, of which she thought Hugh had spoken a little +scornfully, there were as many chances for the doing of deeds of courage +and patience, as there could have been in the old times which he +regretted. There were such deeds done daily, and many of them, and the +men who did them were heroes, though their names and their deeds might +never be known beyond the town in which they had been born. + +She told of some things done by Portie men, and her father told of more, +having caught the spirit of the theme from Jean's thrilling tones and +shining eyes, and from one thing they went on to another, till at last +Jean said,-- + +"I was reading a book not long since--" And when she had got thus far +Hugh surprised Mr Dawson by suddenly rising from the sofa on which he +had been lying all this time, and still more by hopping on one foot, +without the help of crutch or cane, to the fireside and then laying +himself down on the hearth-rug. + +"My lad, I doubt the wisdom of that proceeding," said he gravely. + +"Oh! there is no harm done. Miss Dawson is going to tell us about the +book she has been reading lately, and I like to see her face when she is +telling a story." + +Mr Dawson laughed. He liked that himself. In her desire to withdraw +her father from the silent indulgence of his own thoughts, into which he +was inclined to fall, when left alone with her sister and herself, Jean, +when other subjects of conversation failed them, had sometimes fallen +back on the books she had been reading, and talked about them. She +could give clearly and cleverly enough the outlines of a theory, or the +chief points in an argument. She could tell a story graphically, using +now and then effectively the gift of mimicry of which her aunt had been +afraid. Mr Dawson's constant occupation had left him little time for +general reading during the past, and had made the habit not easy to +adopt now that he might have found leisure for it. But he enjoyed much +having the "cream" of a book presented in this pleasant way by his +daughter. So he also drew forward his chair, prepared to listen to what +she might have to say, understanding quite well how the boy might like +to see her face as she talked. + +"Well," said Jean, "we need not have the lights, for I can knit quite as +well in the dark. It is a sad book, rather. But I like no book that I +have read for a long time, so well as this. It is about men who were +willing, glad even, to take their lives in their hands, and sail away to +northern seas, in hope of finding some trace of Sir John Franklin and +his men. + +"It was not for wages that they went, Hugh, my lad; at least it was not +with most of them. It was with the hope--and it was only a hope, and +not a certainty--of saving the lives of men who were strangers to them, +who were not even their own countrymen. And they went, knowing that +years might pass before they could see their homes again, and that some +among them never might come home. + +"It is a sad story, because they did not find the men, nor any trace of +them. But it was worth all they suffered, and all that was sacrificed, +just to show to the world that was looking on, so noble an example of +courage and strength and patience as theirs. But I am beginning at the +wrong end of the story." + +Jean had read with intense interest the history so clearly and modestly +written by the leader of the band, and she told it now with a power and +pathos that made her father wonder. Of course there was much in the +book on which she could not touch. She kept to the personal narrative, +telling of the hope that had taken them from their homes, and that +sustained them through the night of the Arctic winter, as they lay ice +bound in the shelter of a mountain of ice on a desolate shore, when +sickness came to most of their number, and death to more than one. + +She told of long journeys made in the dimness of returning day, of the +glad recognition of known landmarks, of the long, vain search for the +lost men--of how hope fell back to patience, and patience to doubt and +dread, as they waited for the sun and the summer winds to break the +chains that bound their good ship in that world of ice, and set them +free. + +And then, when their doubt and dread became certainty, as the long +Arctic day began to decline, and the choice lay between another winter +in the ice-bound ship, and an endeavour to find their way over the +frozen wastes that lay between them and the open sea, beyond which lay +their homes, some of their number chose to go; but their leader would +not forsake the ship, and a few of his men would not forsake him. And +beside those brave souls who held their duty dearer than their thoughts +of home, there were some who were sick, and some who were helpless +through the bitter cold and the hardships they had borne, who had no +choice but to stay and take what poor chance there might be of getting +home with the ship, should the sun and the warm winds of a summer yet +far before them set them free at last. + +"And now," said Jean her voice falling low, "the time to test their +courage had come." + +She had told the story hitherto--in many more words than are written +here--with eager gestures, and with eyes that challenged admiration for +her heroes. But now her work fell on her lap, and her face was shaded +from the firelight, and though she spoke rapidly still and eagerly, she +spoke very softly, as she went on to tell how with a higher courage than +had been needed yet, their leader looked the future in the face--seeing +in it for himself, and for those for whom, as their commander, he was in +a sense responsible, suffering from cold and hunger, from solitude and +darkness, and from the wearing sickness of mind and body that these are +sure to bring. + +"`With God's help we may win through,' said this brave and patient +spirit. + +"And there were none who could turn cowardly under such a leadership as +his," said Jean, with a sound that was like a sob, her father thought. +"And so they all fell to doing with a will what might be done to protect +themselves from the bitter cold, and to provide against some evils that +were possible, and against others that were certain to come upon them. +And surely they had God's help, as their leader had said; and those +pain-worn men, in the darkness of that long night, saw in him what is +not often seen--a glad and full obedience to our Lord's command, for the +chief to become the servant of all. There was no duty of servant or +nurse too mean for him to do. Not once or twice, but daily and hourly, +as there was need, during all that time of waiting, when he only called +himself well, because he was not utterly broken down and helpless, as +almost all the others were. + +"Patience, courage, cheerfulness, they saw in him, and they saw nothing +else. For the souls and spirits of these men were in his hands, as well +as their bodies, and if his courage and cheerfulness had failed in their +sight, alas! for them. + +"But they did not fail. And even in his solitary hours--in the night +when he watched that they might sleep--and in his long, and toilsome, +and often vain wanderings over the frozen land and sea in search of the +food that began to fail before the end came--surely he was not left to +even a momentary sense of desertion and discouragement, to a brave man +an experience more terrible than death! + +"That was known only to God and him, for strength came equal to his day, +as far as they could see who leaned on him and trusted him through all. +He did not fail them. + +"And when, after months had gone by, the band who had left them, and +turned as they believed their laces homeward, came back to the ship +broken and discouraged with all they had passed through, he gave them a +brother's welcome, and gladly shared with them the little that was left +of food and fire and comfort, and doubled his cares and labours for +their sakes. + +"As time went on, death came to some, and the rest waited, hardly hoping +to escape his call. But the greater number won through at last. They +had to leave their good ship ice bound still, and then they took their +way, through many toilsome days, over that wide desolation of ice and +snow, going slowly and painfully because of the sick and the maimed +among them, till at last they came to the open sea. Then trusting +themselves to their boats, broken and patched, and scarcely seaworthy by +this time, they sailed on for many days, making southward as the great +fields of floating ice opened to let them through,--and still oh, after +the sea was clear, till they came to land where Christian people +received them kindly, and here they rested for a while. + +"And one day they sailed out on the sea to meet a great ship that came +sailing up from the south, and over this ship the flag of their country +was flying; and as they drew near, one looked down on their little boat +and said, `Is this Doctor Kane?' And then, of course, their troubles +were over, and soon they were safe at home." + +No one spoke for a little while. Phemie brought in the lights, and then +Jean laid down her knitting, and came to the table to make the tea. +After that Mr Dawson went to his own room, and Hugh lay musing or +dreaming on the rug till it was time for him to go to bed. It was when +Jean went to say good-night to her father before she went to bed that he +spoke to her. + +"You will be making a sailor of the lad--with all that foolish singing +and talk about heroes and sea kings. What on earth has set you off on +that tack? The sea! the sea! and nothing but the sea! His father would +be ill-pleased, I can tell you; for Hugh is a clever lad, and he has +other views for him." + +Jean had nothing to say for herself, and took her father's rebuke humbly +and in silence. She had not thought for a moment of influencing the lad +towards the life of a sailor; and when she had taken a minute to +consider the matter, she was quite sure that no harm had been done, and +so she assured her father. + +"I would send the lad home, rather than run the risk," said he with some +vexation. + +"Yes, it would be better," said Jean. "But there is no risk. Hugh is +older than his years, and he has taken his bent already, or I am much +mistaken. Whether it will be according to his father's will, I cannot +say; but there is no danger of his turning his thoughts to the sea. He +might like to visit strange countries, if the way were open to him; and +with opportunity he might become a great naturalist, for his knowledge +of all natural objects and his delight in them is wonderful." + +To this Mr Dawson had nothing to say. And indeed it was not about Hugh +that he was at that moment troubling himself; but his trouble was not to +be spoken about to Jean, and with rather a gruff good-night he let her +go. But he could not put his trouble out of his thoughts. It had been +there before, though he had almost forgotten it for a while. + +"The sea! the sea! and ay the sea!" repeated he discontentedly. "What +can have come to the lassie? She has no one on the sea to vex her heart +about, unless indeed--she may fancy--that her brother is there," and the +shadow that always came with thoughts of his son, fell darkly on his +face. "Or--unless--but that can hardly be. There is no one, and she +has sense. And yet--her brother--" + +He rose, sick with the intolerable pain that a vivid remembrance of his +loss always awakened, and there came to him suddenly a thought of Elsie +Calderwood and her brother, the handsome mate of the "John Seaton," now +almost a year at sea. He sank into his chair again, as if some one had +struck him a blow. + +"That would be terrible!" said he, putting the thought from him with an +angry pang. + +The remembrance of Captain Harefield's admiration, and the indifference +with which his daughter had received it came back to him. Could there +have been any thing besides the good sense for which her aunt gave her +credit to account for her indifference? Could it be possible that young +Calderwood could be in her thoughts? + +He wearied himself thinking about it, long after the fire had gone out +on the hearth, and he believed that he had convinced himself that his +sudden fear was unreasonable and foolish. It could not be true. + +"But true or not, I must keep my patience. It might have ended +differently with--the other,--if I had taken a different way with him. +I see that now. I might have led him, though I could not drive him; and +I fancy that would be true of his sister as well." + +He went to his room with a heavy heart, but it grew lighter in the +morning. He had been letting his fancy and his fears run away with his +judgment, he thought, when he came into the breakfast-room, to find Jean +and the lame boy interested and merry over a last year's birds' nest +which Jean in her early walk had found in the wood. It was birds and +birds' nests that made the subject of conversation this morning, and Mr +Dawson might well express his wonder that a lad, born and brought up in +a great town, should have so much to say about them. Jean suggested the +idea of his having played truant whiles, to advance his knowledge in +this direction, and the lad only answered with a shrug which was half a +confession. His holidays, at least, had all been spent in the fields +and woods even in the winter-time. + +"And if I could have my own way, all my days should be spent--in the +woods and fields," said he gravely, as if it were rather a sore subject +with him. + +Mr Dawson left the two considering the matter as though nothing of +greater interest than birds and birds' nests existed for either of them. + +"A far safer subject than the dangers of the sea," said he as he went +his way. + +CHAPTER THIRTEEN. + +A DISCOVERY. + +In the beginning of April May came home--"bonnier than ever," as Jean +told her father, as she met him at the door. He laughed when he heard +her say it, but he agreed with her, and told her so when a day or two +had passed. + +He could hardly make it clear to himself, nor could Jean, in what she +was different from her former self. It was because she was growing to +be more like her mother as she grew older, he said. And Jean by and by +came to the conclusion that something had happened to her sister while +she was away--something to make her hopeful and happy, and at the same +time graver and more thoughtful; yet she was very merry and sweet, and +it was oh! so pleasant to have her home again. They made holidays of +these first days of her home coming, and Jean was able to forget, or put +aside, her sad and anxious thoughts for a while. + +But there came a day when she well knew they would not be forgotten or +put aside. + +"May," said she one morning, "let us go down to the Tangle Stanes +to-day. This is the tenth, ye ken." + +"Well, let us go. It is a bonny day. But what about the tenth. I +don't know what you mean." + +"Have you forgotten? The `John Seaton' sailed on the tenth," said Jean +gravely. + +May's colour changed a little. So did Jean's. But while May reddened, +Jean grew pale. + +"Have they heard bad news? Surely it is time that they were coming home +again," said May. + +"They might have been home before this time. But the voyage is often +longer. I don't think there is any anxiety as yet." + +"Well--we can go down to the Tangle Stanes. And will Hugh come too? I +see the pony is brought round." + +But they could not go at once, for Jean heard her father's voice calling +her, and went to his room. As she did not return immediately, May and +the lad set off together. + +"Jean will come to the Tangle Stanes. I will wait for her there. And +you can go on by yourself, Hugh, and meet us there afterwards." And a +message to this effect was left for Miss Dawson. + +Jean found her father sitting with an open letter in his hand. He made +a movement as though he meant to give it to her, but withdrew it again +saying,-- + +"I fancy it was only meant for my eye. I have a surprise for you, Jean. +Mr Manners, the university professor I told you about, writes, +offering a visit. He does not say when, but soon--as soon as may be." + +"Mr Manners! I did not know that you had asked him, papa." + +"Oh, yes! I asked him in a general way, as I did others--if he should +ever be in this part of the country. But he is coming for a particular +reason, it seems." + +"Papa! Not for May?" said Jean sitting down suddenly. + +"Well--it looks like it, though how you should have guessed it is queer +enough. It never came into my mind, often as I saw them together. Is +it from any thing your sister has said?" + +"May has said nothing to me--nothing." + +"I acknowledge that I am surprised. I should not have supposed that he +was at all the man to be taken with a girl like May. If it had been you +now--" + +"Are you pleased, papa? Will you let him come? And would you give him +May?" + +"May must decide that for herself. All that he asks now is my leave to +come and speak for himself. He does not wish any thing to be said to +her till he says it himself." + +"And will you let him come?" asked Jean gravely. + +"Well, I think he has a right to be heard. Yes, I think we must let him +come." + +"Is Mr Manners a rich man, papa?" + +"A rich man? I should say not. Indeed he tells me as much as that. He +has a professional income, enough to live comfortably upon. He is a +scholar and a gentleman, and money is a secondary consideration." + +"Yes--if every thing else is right," said Jean a little surprised. She +had not supposed that in any case, money would be a secondary +consideration with her father. + +"But he is a stranger, and--an Englishman." + +Mr Dawson laughed. + +"An Englishman! That can hardly be put as an objection, I should think. +He is a stranger--in a sense--but he is a man well-known in his own +circle, and beyond it--a man much respected, they tell me." + +Jean knew by her father's manner that he was as much pleased as he was +surprised. + +"She is very young," said she in a little. + +"She is old enough to know her own mind, I suppose, and there need be no +haste, if it is to be. I think I must let him come." + +"And I am not to speak to her?" + +"Oh! as to that, I suppose he only meant that he wished to tell his own +story. Still as there is no time set for his coming, it may be as well +to say nothing for a day or two." + +"Very well," and Jean rose and went away. + +"She doesna seem to be over weel pleased at this, but she'll come round. +I'm glad that it should be her sister rather than her that I maun part +with. I could ill spare my Jean," said Mr Dawson to himself, as his +eye followed her as she moved slowly down the walk. "Though I dare say +her turn will come," he added with a sigh. + +It was not that Jean was ill-pleased, but she was disturbed at the +thought of trouble that might be before them. + +"My father will never listen to a word about Willie Calderwood. And +unless May is very firm--" + +And she could not but have serious doubts of May's firmness in +withstanding the will of her father. + +"But at least he will not force her to many any one else. I could help +her to stand out against such a thing as that. And I will too," said +Jean. + +But a greater surprise than her father had given her at home, awaited +her at the Tangle Stanes. May sat on the lower ridge of rock where she +had sheltered herself that day, while Jean watched for the "John +Seaton." This was a very different day from that. There was no wind +to-day and the sun shone and the air was soft and warm. The sea was +calm and blue as the sky--with only here and there a touch of white +where the tiny wavelets broke on the half hidden rocks beyond the Tangle +Stanes. Jean stood still, and looked out upon it, pondering many +things, then her eye fell on her sister. + +She was singing softly to herself, as she plucked at the dried stalks of +last summer's weeds that still clung to the sheltered side of the rock, +or gathered the broken bits of stone, and threw them down into the sea. +She was looking neither sad nor anxious, she was smiling, at her own +thoughts, Jean fancied, as she stood still a minute or two looking down +upon her. Then May turned and saw. + +"Such a bonny day?" said she. + +"Yes--a bonny day indeed. Where is Hugh?" + +"He's not far away. I told him that we would wait for him here. Will +you come down, or shall I come up to you?" + +"I'll come to you. Some one might join us if we were to stay up in +sight, and I have something to say to you. Or rather I have a question +to ask you about some one." + +"Well, come then. Is it about anyone in--London?" asked May smiling, +while a little colour rose to her cheek. + +"No," said Jean gravely. "I am going to ask you about Willie +Calderwood. And indeed I think you might have spoken more plainly to me +long ago." + +May laughed. + +"I have often wondered that you have never spoken plainly to me." + +"Have you? Well, being your elder sister, perhaps I ought to have done +so. I did not like to speak, since you did not." + +"Just so. And I did not like to speak to you for the same reason." + +"Well, we will speak now. May," said she softly, laying her hand on her +sister's shoulder, "tell me just how it is between Willie and you." + +"I don't understand you, Jean. There is nothing in the world between +Willie and me." + +"May, have you--changed your mind? Don't you care for him any longer?" + +"I don't know what you mean. As to caring for him--of course I care for +him--in a way. But, Jean, it is not me that Willie Calderwood cares +for. He has said nothing to me that he might not have said to--almost +any one in Portie." + +"May, have you forgotten a year ago?--how you came here a year ago, +because he asked you? Of course he could not speak, because of my +father. Do you mean that he doesna care for you--more than for any one +else." + +"He has kept it to himself, if he does. Oh! yes, I know--my father. +But if he had had any thing to say, he would have said it, or I would +have guessed it. I don't know why you should have taken the like of +that into your head." + +"I saw him seeking you out wherever we met. He said more to you at such +times than to all the rest of us put together. He followed you always. +Every one saw it as well as I. And then the day he went away--" + +"Oh, Jean, what nonsense! I came that day to please you. You made me +come. You must mind that well enough. As for his asking me, it was +more than half in jest. I am sure he did not expect me to come. And he +never could have seen us, on such a day." + +"And do you mean that if he were to come home to Portie and not find you +here, it would be all the same to him?" + +"Oh! he'll find me here when he comes, and I shall be glad to see him +safe and well. But he has no right to expect a warmer welcome from me +than from--any other friend, and he doesna expect it." + +Jean looked at her in amazement. + +"Have I been dreaming all the year?" said she. + +"It would seem so. I have just as much right to ask you about Willie +Calderwood, as you have to ask me." + +Jean shook her head. + +"He has very seldom spoken to me since--the old days." + +"But that might be because of my father, ye ken," said May laughing. +And then she added gravely, "We may be glad that there is nothing +between him and either of us, Jean. It would only have been another +heartbreak. I have fancied whiles, that _you_ were thinking about him-- +but I am very, _very_ glad for your sake that--" + +"Of course I have been thinking about him--about him and you. I ought +to be glad that I have been only dreaming, as you say, because of my +father. But--poor Willie!--I doubt he has been dreaming too." + +"No, Jean, not about me. And even if it had been as you thought, I +would never have listened to him, and indeed he never would have spoken +after all that's come and gone." + +"It would not have been the same to my father, as George and Elsie." + +"But coming after--it would have been all that over again, and worse. +And Willie Calderwood is as proud and hard about some things, as my +father." + +"And that might have kept him from speaking," said Jean. + +"And so it ought, even if he had had any thing to say, which he had not. +You need not shake your head as though you didna believe me." + +"I must believe you--since you say so--for yourself. But you may be +mistaken about him, though he never spoke." + +"Never spoke!" repeated May, mimicking her sister's voice and her grave +manner. "And do you think I would have needed words to let me know if +he had cared for me--in that way? You are wise about some things, Jean, +but you are not just so wise as you might be about others. Wait a +while." + +May laughed and reddened, and then turned and climbed to the top of the +rock to see if Hugh were in sight. Jean followed her slowly. + +"I ought to be glad. I am glad. There is a great weight lifted from my +heart. May is safe from the trouble that threatened, and so is my +father. As for Willie Calderwood--well it is better for him too, that +May doesna care, even if--And he'll get over it." + +When Hugh came back they all took their way to Miss Jean's house by the +sea. But as Hugh was not yet equal to the feat of dismounting without +more help than he was willing to accept from the young ladies, May and +he soon turned their faces homeward again, and Jean, who had something +to do in the town, was left behind. She sat a while with her aunt, but +she was quite silent, and her face was turned toward the sea. Miss Jean +was silent also, giving her a glance now and then, feeling sure that she +had something more than usual on her mind which perhaps she might need a +little help to tell. + +"Well," said she after a little, "have you any news? I think I see +something in your e'en. Come awa' frae the window and say what ye ha'e +to say." + +Jean rose and came forward to the fire. + +"Has my father been in? He will tell you himself, when there is really +any thing to tell. He is sure to be in some time to-day." + +"And it is nothing to vex you, dear? Are you glad about it?" + +"It ought not to vex me. It is only what was sure to happen. And +though I am not glad yet--I dare say I shall be glad in time." + +"Is it about your sister?" + +"Yes--and I think papa is glad. But he will tell you himself." + +"And there is nothing else?" + +Jean sat looking at her aunt for a minute or two. + +"Yes, there is something else that ought to lighten my heart. It has +lightened it, I think. I'm not just sure." + +"And that is about May too?" + +"Yes--about May." + +She said no more and her aunt did not question her. By and by Miss Jean +said,-- + +"It's a bonny day--and fine for the season. It was a different day last +year when the `John Seaton' sailed." + +"Yes, I mind it well." + +Jean did not look like herself, but absent and dazed like, as though her +mind were full of other things. Miss Jean said nothing for a while, and +Jean rose as if she were going away; but stood for a while looking out +of the window. + +"My dear," said her aunt, "I have thought that you have been troubled +like about various matters, this while back, and about your sister among +the rest. But I think ye ha'e nae occasion." + +"Yes, I have been anxious." + +"Because of Willie Calderwood? But, my dear, I canna think that there's +any occasion." + +"I seem to have been mistaken as far as she is concerned. She says so." + +"And as for him--I never asked him and he never told me--but I'm no +feared that he'll be the worse in the end for any such trouble. And, +Jean, my lassie, we ha'e great reason for thankfulness that so it is. +It would only have been anither heartbreak." + +"Yes. That is what May said." + +"Not but what they both would have outlived it--and had many a happy day +after it. But I am glad we havena to go through all that, for all our +sakes, and more especially for the sake of your father. For he is +growing an old man now, and another blow like that would have been ill +on him, whichever way it had ended." + +"But, aunt,--ye mustna be angry at me for saying it,--but I canna think +that my father was altogether wise or right in the way he took with +George and Elsie." + +"My dear, who is ever altogether wise and right in all they do, even to +those they love best? And, my dear, ye are nae your father's judge. +And do ye think that he sees now that all he did was wisest and best? +and yet he might do the very same again. And even if he shouldna, it +would be a misery and a lifelong pain to him all the same. My dear, I'm +mair than thankful and we'll say nae mair about it." + +And no more was said. But as Jean went slowly homeward, she had many +thoughts of all she had heard that day. Glad! Of course she could not +but be glad that all which must have brought disappointment and pain +upon so many, had only been a dream of hers. How could she have been so +mistaken! How much better it would have been if she had spoken plainly +to her sister a year ago! Would May have answered as decidedly then? + +Yes. Jean did not doubt that she would have done so. She did not doubt +her sister's sincerity when she declared that she had never cared for +Willie Calderwood "in that way." + +"Wise about some things, but not so wise about others," said Jean with a +smile, recalling her sister's words. + +And might she not have been mistaken about Willie Calderwood as well as +about May? May declared it, her aunt seemed to imply it. But surely +Mrs Calderwood had been thinking about May that day! Jean's cheeks +grew hot as she recalled her words and looks. + +"Oh! I am thankful that I never named my sister's name to her. And if +it was May she was thinking about, she will soon see that she was +mistaken too, and that she needna have feared. And if it wasna May she +was thinking about, she needna be feared?" + +Jean walked more rapidly, and held her head higher as the thought passed +through her mind. She believed herself to be very angry as all the +scene came vividly back to her--angry with Mrs Calderwood. But for all +that she went home with a lightened heart and with a face at once +brighter and more peaceful than her father had seen for a while. + +CHAPTER FOURTEEN. + +MR MANNERS. + +It would not have been easy for Jean to set about any very elaborate +preparations for the reception of the expected guest, without attracting +the notice of her sister, who was to know nothing of his coming +beforehand. Happily no special preparation was needed in her +well-regulated household, for within a shorter time than seemed possible +after her father's letter of invitation had been sent, he made his +appearance at Saughleas. + +He had reached the town at night, and presented himself at the bank in +the morning before Mr Dawson had reached it. They missed each other as +he took his way to Saughleas, and Jean was the only one there to receive +him. The day was mild and dry, and May and young Corbett had set off +immediately after breakfast, on an expedition to the Castle. + +Jean was in the garden, intent on hastening the completion of certain +changes that had been commenced in the arrangement of flower beds and +shrubbery, indeed putting her own hands to the work of clipping and +transplanting under proper direction and authority. She saw the +stranger the moment he opened the gate, and stood still in her place +behind a sheltering fir-tree, regarding him as he came slowly round the +drive. + +She saw a pleasant face, with something of the pallor of the student +upon it--not handsome, but a good, true face, she thought as he came +nearer. He was tall, as her father had said, and he stooped a little; +but it was not a round-shouldered stoop, rather a slight inclining +forward as he walked, such as short-sighted people are apt to fall into +unawares. Certainly he was "not to call old." + +A scholar and a gentleman, her father had said. He was all that, or his +looks belied him, Jean told herself as he came slowly forward. + +He stood for a moment looking up into the sky through the lovely +mingling of faint colours made by the swelling buds and opening leaves +in the tops of the great beeches, and Jean's impulse was to come forward +at once and give him welcome. But she looked at her gloves, and at her +thick shoes soiled with the garden mould, and at her linsey gown too +short to hide them, and she thought of her sister, and "these fastidious +English folk," and the "credit of the family," and so went swiftly round +the house, and in at the back door, and up to her own room. + +She did not linger over her toilette, however. By the time Phemie came +to announce the stranger's arrival, the stately young mistress of the +house was ready in her pretty house dress of some dim purple stuff to go +down and receive him. She went with more shyness than stateliness, +however, being conscious of the object of his coming, and entered so +quietly, that he did not move from the window out of which he was +gazing, till she had come near him. He turned quickly at the sound of +her voice. + +"Is it--Mr Manners?" said she, offering her hand. "You expected me +then?" + +"Yes. Papa told _me_ you were coming." + +"And you are Jean? And you will be my friend?" Jean's eyes met his +frankly and very gravely for a moment, and then she said softly,-- + +"Yes. I think I may promise to be your friend." + +If she could put any trust in the face as an index of character, she +might surely promise that, she thought. She waited a moment, expecting +that he would ask for her sister. He did not, but stood looking at her +in a silence that must have become embarrassing if it had continued +long. So she offered breakfast, which he declined. Then she expressed +her regret that he should have missed her father, but she would send at +once to tell him of his arrival. + +This was not necessary, however. Mr Dawson having heard of Mr +Manners' arrival at the bank, returned home immediately; but they were +already in the dining-room, before May and young Corbett appeared. They +went in the back way and passed through Beckie's kitchen. + +"Eh! Miss May! What can ha'e keepit you? Miss Dawson has been muckle +putten aboot. Your papa's come hame and a strange gentleman wi' him. +Na, it's naebody ye need to heed. Was't Peters they ca'ed him, Phemie? +It's luncheon and nae dinner--so you can just go ben as ye are. Ye +couldna look better or bonnier though ye were to change your gown and +tak' an hour to do it. And Miss Dawson was sair putten aboot." + +So with no warning as to whom she was to see, flushed and laughing, and +submitting to be made a crutch by the recovering and adventurous Hugh, +May entered the dining-room. + +"It was hardly fair upon her," her father thought, and Jean turned pale +with vexation that it so should have happened. But she need not have +been afraid. After the first startled glance, and rush of colour, May +met her friend with a gentle dignity which left nothing to be desired in +her sister's opinion. Mr Manners was to all appearance less +self-possessed than she was, and his greetings were brief and grave. + +All were for some time in a state of restrained excitement that made +conversation not easy, till Hugh came to the rescue by referring to Mr +Dawson the decision of some point which had fallen under discussion +during the morning's ride, on which Miss May and he had disagreed. It +had reference to a circle of stones in the neighbourhood, said to be of +Druidical origin, and Hugh stated the difference of opinion clearly and +fairly enough. Mr Dawson could give no light on the subject, however, +and smiled at the idea of attaching any importance to the question. + +"And besides," said May gently, but with an air of wishing to put an end +to the matter, "I told you I did not hold any opinion with regard to +them." + +But Hugh, in his persistent way, refused to let it so end; and Jean, +glad of any thing rather than silence, added her word, hoping that they +might some time during the summer go to see the "Stanes." + +"But, Miss May," continued Hugh, "though you said you did not know +yourself, you gave authority for your opinion--at least as far as +similar circles elsewhere are concerned. And was it not?--Yes, it was +Mr Manners that you said had told you--" + +Jean laughed. She could not help it. May grew red as a rose. Then Mr +Manners took up the word, and there was no more uncomfortable silence +after that; and Hugh heard more concerning this new subject of interest +than he would be likely to hear again for many a day. + +Before they rose from the table, Mr Dawson was called away by some one +who wished to see him on business, and Hugh, with Jean for his crutch +this time, betook herself to his room to rest and be out of the way. +May went to the parlour with Mr Manners, intending only to show him the +way and then go to her own room to change her habit for her house dress; +but when Jean came back again, May was in the room still, and the door +was shut. + +Jean stood looking at it for a moment, with the strangest mingling of +emotions--joy for her sister, sorrow for herself--a feeling as if the +old familiar life were come to an end, and a new life beginning; nay, as +if the very foundations of things were being removed. + +"We can never be the same again--never," she said, with a sharp touch of +pain at her heart. "I have lost my bonny May." + +It was foolish to be grieved, it was worse than foolish to be angry, at +the thought of change; but she knew that if she were to look closely +into her heart, she would find both grief and anger there. + +"I canna help it, but I needna yield to it," she said; and then she +turned resolutely toward the kitchen, where Beckie was awaiting +necessary directions with regard to dinner. + +She lingered over her arrangements, and by and by put her own hands to +some of them, for she found it impossible to settle quietly to any +thing, though she told herself that her restlessness was foolish and not +to be excused. It took her out of the house at last, and down the walk +past the well and through the wood, where she had many times gone during +the last few months to the most sweet and peaceful spot in all the +world, she thought--where her mother and her little brother and sisters +lay; and here, after a while, her father found her. He was not free +from restlessness either, it seemed. Jean rose as he drew near. + +"Where is your sister? Should you have left her?" asked he doubtfully. + +Jean shook her head and laughed. + +"They shut the door upon me." + +"Ay! He's in earnest, yon lad. You like him, Jean? Though it's soon +to ask." + +"Not too soon. I liked him the first glance I got of him. He has a +good, true face. Yes; I like him." + +"It doesna take you long to make up your mind," said her father +laughing. But he was evidently pleased. "You dinna like his errand? +Well that was hardly to be expected. But if it hadna been him, it would +have been another, and we should have lost her all the same. And it +might have been worse." + +"Yes, it might have been worse." + +Jean was thinking what her father's feelings would have been had May's +troth been plighted to Willie Calderwood. But her father was thinking +that it would have been worse for him to-day had it been for Jean that +the stranger had asked. + +"It will be your turn next," said he with a sad attempt at jesting. + +But Jean answered gravely,-- + +"No. I think not I'm content as I am." + +Her father laughed, a short, uncertain laugh. + +"Ay! that will do till the right man comes, and then--we'll see." + +"But he may never come. He never came to Auntie Jean." + +"Did he no'? Weel, it came to that in the end." + +Mr Dawson looked up and met the question in Jean's eyes, but he did not +answer it, and her lips were silent. She did not need an answer. +Though she had heard nothing, she seemed to know how it had been with +her aunt. Disappointment had come to her in her youth. Whether death +had brought it, or change, or misunderstanding, or something harder to +bear than these, she knew not; but however it had come, it had doubtless +been a part of the discipline that had wrought toward the mingled +strength and sweetness of her aunt's character, so beautiful in Jean's +eyes. She forgot her father in thinking about it. + +And for the same reason her father forget her. There were none like his +sister in his esteem. None, of all the women he had seen grow old, had +lived a life so useful, or were so beloved and respected in their old +age as she. Her life--except for a year or two--had never been solitary +in a painful sense, he thought. It had been, and was still, full of +interest--bound up with the lives and enjoyment of others, as much as +the life of any married woman of them all. + +"And if she were to die to-night, there are more in Portie that would +miss and mourn her than for many mothers of families, and that is not +more than all would acknowledge who ken what she is and what she has +done in the town." + +But for his daughter? No, it was not a life like her aunt's that he +desired for her. His eye came back to her as the thought passed through +his mind. She was gazing straight before her, in among the trees, but +it was not the brown buds nor the opening leaves that she saw, he knew +well. + +What could it be that brought that far-away look to her eyes. Was she +looking backwards or forwards? Where were her thoughts wandering? Her +look need not have vexed him. It was a little sad, but she smiled as +though her thoughts were not altogether painful. He could not but be +uneasy as he watched her. He loved her so dearly, she counted for so +much in his life, that he longed for her confidence in all things, and +he knew that there was something behind that smile which he could not +see. + +"Weel?" said he as she turned and met his look. + +"I should go back to the house, you are thinking? Yes, I am going. +But, papa--it will not be very soon? May's going away, I mean." + +"That is all before us. I can say nothing now. I doubt all that will +be taken out of our hands, my lassie. He is in earnest, yon lad." + +"But, papa--it is surely our right to say when it is to be? And May is +so young--not nineteen yet." + +"Just her mother's age, when--" + +He rose as if to go, but sat down again and said quietly, "A few months +sooner or later will make little difference, and we could hardly expect +that he would hear of making it a matter of years. Nor would I wish +it." + +"But it will not be--just at once?" said Jean. She had almost said "not +till the `John Seaton' comes home." + +"Well, not just at once. There is time enough to decide that." + +Mr Dawson looked doubtfully at his daughter. The look he had wondered +at had left her face. She had grown pale and her eyes had the strained +and anxious look that had more than once pained him during the winter. +The question over which she had wearied herself then was up again. + +"Shall I speak to him about Geordie? Shall I tell him how he went +away?" But he did not know her thoughts, and fancied she was grieving +about her sister. + +"My dear, it is hard on you for the moment. But it is not like losing +your sister altogether." + +"Papa! It is not May I am thinking about. It is--Geordie. Oh, papa, +papa!" + +"My dear," said her father after a pause, "it will do no good to think +of one who thinks so little of us. Think of him! We maun ay do that, +whether we will or no'. But I whiles think he maun be dead. He could +not surely have forgotten us so utterly." + +His last words were almost a cry, and he turned his face away. + +"Papa!" said Jean with a gasp, and in another moment she would have told +him all. But before she could add a word he was gone--not back by the +path to the house, but through the wood the other way, slowly and +heavily with his head bowed down. Jean looked after him with a sick +heart. + +"It is my mother he is thinking of, as well as his son. Oh! I wish I +hadna spoken?" + +She sat down in a misery of doubt and longing, not sure whether she were +glad or sorry that he had given her no chance to say more. How little +and light her own anxieties looked in the presence of her father's +sorrow! The silence and self-restraint, which day after day kept all +token of suffering out of sight, made it all the more painful and +pitiful to see when it would have its way! Miss Jean, his sister, had +seen him more than once moved from his silent acceptance of pain and +loss, but his daughter had never seen this, and she was greatly +startled, and sat sick at heart with the thought that there was no help +for his trouble. + +For even if she were to tell him now that her brother had gone to sea in +the "John Seaton," there would hardly be comfort in that; for it was +more than time that the ship were in port, and though no one openly +acknowledged that there was cause for anxiety, in secret many feared +that all might not be well with her. No, she must not tell him. The +new suspense would be more than he could bear, Jean thought; and she +must wait, and bear her burden a little longer alone. + +The tears that she could not keep back, did not lighten her heart as a +girl's tears are supposed to do, and though she checked them, with the +thought that she must not let their traces be seen in the house, they +came in a flood when she found her sister's arms clasped about her neck +and her face hidden on her breast. But she struggled against her +emotion for her sister's sake, and kissed and congratulated her, and +then comforted her as their mother might have done. And May smiled +again in a little while--indeed what cause had she to cry at all, she +asked herself, for surely there never was a happier girl than she. + +And they both looked bright enough when they came down to dinner, and so +did their father. Jean wondered and asked herself whether the sight of +his moved face and the sound of his breaking voice, had not come to her +in a dream. + +He only came in at the last moment, and if he guessed from May's shy +looks that something had happened to her, he took no notice, and every +thing went on as usual, though a little effort was needed against the +silence which fell on them now and then. + +Of course after dinner, the girls went to the parlour and young Corbett +went with them; and when, by and by, their father and Mr Manners came +in to get some tea, Jean knew that May's fate was decided, as far as her +father's consent to her marriage could decide it. + +Pretty May blushed and dimpled and cried a little when her father came +and kissed her and "clappet" her softly on her shoulder, and in rather +an uncertain voice bade "God bless her." + +Then Mr Manners brought her to Jean. "Will you give me your sister?" +said he gravely. "Since she seems to have given herself to you, I may +as well," said Jean kissing her sister and keeping back the tears that +were wonderfully ready to-night. + +"And remember your first word was a promise to stand my friend." + +"Only I don't think you seem to stand in need of a friend just now," +said Jean laughing. + +"Ah! but I may need one before all is done. And you have promised." + +CHAPTER FIFTEEN. + +MR DAWSON'S WILL. + +It would doubtless have been agreeable to Mr Dawson had Mr Manners +been a richer man than he seemed to be, but he did not allow even to +Miss Jean, that this want of money was a serious drawback to the +satisfaction he felt in consenting to his daughter's marriage. + +"He is a man whom I like much, and money is a secondary consideration," +said he. + +"That's true," said Miss Jean. + +"Not that he is without means, and he has a good professional income. +They will do very well. It is true I havena kenned him long, as ye say; +and I dare say ye think I have been in haste with my consent. But just +wait a wee. He'll ha'e your good word. For ye ken a man when ye see +him." + +"If they truly love one another--that is the chief thing." + +Mr Dawson laughed. + +"They do that." + +"And what does Jean say?" + +"She'll tell you herself. There has been little time to say any thing. +He is to be brought over to see you to-day. I wished to send for you, +but Jean said it was more becoming that he should come to you. Jean has +her ain notions about most things." + +"Ay, she has that." + +"And ye'll come hame with them to Saughleas? There are two or three +things that I would like to have a word with you about. And ye'll be +sure to come." + +But Miss Jean did not promise. She liked best to be at Saughleas when +there were no strangers there, she said. Mr Dawson was ready to resent +her calling Mr Manners a stranger, so she said nothing. The matter +could be decided afterwards. + +Probably Jean was only thinking of what was due to her aunt, when she +insisted on taking their new friend to make her acquaintance in her own +house. But it was a wise thing to do for other reasons than Miss Jean's +"dignity," which her niece might very well have left to take care of +itself. + +The house was like herself,--quiet, simple, unpretending, but with a +marked character of its own; and no one could fail to be impressed with +his first glimpse of Miss Jean, sitting in her quaint parlour, with its +shelves of brown old books, its great work-basket, and its window +looking to the sea. She was an old woman now, and not very strong; but +the inward calm which earthly trouble had no power to disturb, had kept +disfiguring wrinkles from her face, and the soft wavy hair that showed +under her full-bordered cap was still more brown than grey. + +Some who had known Miss Jean all her life declared that she was far more +beautiful at sixty than she had ever been in her youth. And naturally +enough. For a life of glad service to a loving Master, a helpful, +hopeful, self-forgetful doing of good as opportunity is given, for His +sake, tell on the countenance as on the character; and the grave +cheerfulness, the trustful peace that rested on the old woman's face +were beautiful to those who had eyes to see. + +It was not May, but Miss Dawson, who came with the visitor that morning. + +"Auntie Jean, I have brought Mr Manners to see you," said she coming in +unannounced. + +Miss Jean received them kindly, but with a certain gravity. + +"Yes, your father has been here. He told me who was coming," said she, +and her eyes sought Jean's gravely and earnestly. Jean nodded and +smiled, carrying her aunt's look to the face of Mr Manners. + +"Yes, auntie, that is the way of it." Then Miss Jean gave him her hand +again. "The Lord keep and guide you both. And the Lord deal with you +as ye shall deal with the bairn that is willing to leave her father's +house to go with you." + +"Amen!" said Mr Manners, and he stooped and touched with his lips the +soft wrinkled hand that had been offered him. + +They had not very much to say to one another for a while. It was Jean +who kept up the talk for a little, remarking upon the "bonny day," and +the flowers that were coming out earlier than usual, and on the sea, +which was seen at its best to-day, she said, a sparkling blue that faded +to pale green and grey in the distance. + +"You have a wide view of it here," said Mr Manners who was leaning +against the ledge looking out. + +There was nothing to be seen from Miss Jean's usual seat, but the sea +and one rocky cape in the northern distance. "It is company to me," +said she. "It is ay changing." + +"But it is dreary whiles, aunt, very dreary, when the wind blows loud, +and the winter is here." Miss Jean smiled. + +"I think winter makes less difference to my outlook than it does to +yours, Jean, my dear. It's ay the sea, and ay the same, yet ay changing +ilka day o' the year, be it summer or winter. It is like a friend's +face to me now after all that's come and gone." + +It was not easy getting below the surface of things, because their +thoughts were of the kind not easily spoken. Miss Jean said least, but +she looked and listened and was moved by the soft flowing English speech +of their new friend, in a way that filled her with amazement, "after all +these years," she said to herself. + +By and by May came in, leaving Hugh Corbett in the pony carriage at the +door. She hesitated a moment, shy, but smiling, on the threshold, and +then Mr Manners led her forward to be kissed and congratulated and made +much of by her aunt. + +"Ye'll try and be a good wife--as your mother was," said Miss Jean +softly, and she gave a tearful, appealing glance toward him who had won +the child's heart. + +"I love her dearly," said he gently. "And I will care for her first +always." + +"I believe ye," said Miss Jean. + +What with his good, true face, his kindly ways and winning-speech, he +had won her good word, as easily as he had won Jean's "who liked him at +the first glance," as she had told her father. + +Mr Manners' visit was necessarily brief, but when he went away, he +carried with him the good-will, and more than the good-will, of them +all. Even young Corbett, who had at first resented the break made in +the pleasant life they had been living of late by his monopolising Miss +May's time and attention, agreed with the rest at last. They became +mutually interested over shells and seaweeds, beetles and birds' nests, +and they were very friendly before Mr Manners went away. + +Before his departure Mr Manners put Jean's friendship to the test. + +"If you are on my side, I shall be able to bring about that on which I +have set my heart, and I must remind you of your promise." + +Jean laughed. + +"It seems that you are like to get that on which you have set your heart +without the help of any one." + +"Ah! but how would it have been if you had set yourself against me? Or +if you were to do so even now?" + +"It is too late for that now, and I don't think you are much afraid." + +"Jean," said he gravely, "I want my May for my very own on the first day +of August." Jean was not so startled as she might have been. "I did +not think you would be willing to wait very long. But the first of +August! That is not much more than three months. It will look like +haste." + +There were, it seemed, many good reasons for that which looked like +haste. The chief one was this: Mr Manners looked forward to two full +months of leisure after that time, which could not happen again for +another year. He had set his heart on carrying his bonny May to +Switzerland for the whole two months. + +"Think what that would be in comparison to a winter marriage, and then +straight to a dull house in a London street!" + +"Will she find it dull, do you think?" asked Jean smiling. "Ah! that +may be very possible, even though I know she will go willingly. Miss +Dawson, I feel as if I were guilty of wrong-doing in thinking to take my +darling from a home like this, to such a one as I can give her, even +though I believe she loves me." + +But Jean smiled still. "You need not fear." + +"Thanks. I will not. But in those two months, think how we should +learn to know each other, as we could not in my busy days in London! +And she would learn to trust me. And it might be if you were to be on +my side. As to preparations--dresses and things--" + +"It is not that. All that is quite secondary. I mean I could see to +all that after," said Jean to his surprise. "It is something quite +different that I was thinking about." + +It was the return of the "John Seaton" with her brother George on board +of which she was thinking, and she was wondering whether it would be +right to let her sister go, if he should not be home before that time. +But she could not speak to Mr Manners of this. Indeed she could speak +of nothing for the moment. For May came into the room, and her lover +intimated triumphantly that her sister agreed with him as to the +important matter of the time. + +"And you know you were to leave the decision to her." + +"I agree with you that preparations need not stand in the way. As to +other things, I cannot decide. It was something quite different that I +was thinking of." + +But she did not say what it was, even to her sister, and from that time +it was understood that the marriage was to take place on the first of +August, and that, if possible, Mr Manners was to pay one more visit +before that time. + +In the quiet that followed his departure, the anxiety which in her +interest in her sister's happiness she had for the time put aside, came +back again to Jean. She strove to hide it from her father, and devoted +herself to May and her preparations, with an earnestness which left her +little time for painful thought. There was less to do in the way of +actual preparation than might have been supposed--at least less than +could be done by their own hands. The "white seam" that had employed +Jean's fingers through so many summer afternoons and winter evenings, +came into use now. + +"I meant them for you, quite as much as for myself, and I shall have +plenty of time to make a new supply before I need them," said she when +May hesitated to appropriate so much of her exquisite work. + +There was plenty to do, and Jean left herself no time for brooding over +her fears. She kept away from the shore and the old sailors now, and +from the garrulous fishwives of the town. She would not listen even to +the eager reasoning of the hopeful folk who strove to prove that as yet +there was no cause to fear for the ship; and she did keep all tokens of +anxiety out of her face as far as her father saw; which perhaps was +because he was occupied more than usual at this time with anxieties of +his own. But when Mr Manners had been gone a month and more, and they +were beginning to look for his return, something happened which would +have made it impossible for her to hide her trouble much longer. + +Mr Dawson had never yet taken any important step in business matters, +or in any matter, without first talking it over with his sister. He did +not always take her advice, and she never urged her advice upon him +beyond a certain point; but whether her advice was accepted or rejected, +there was no difference in their relations to each other because of +that. He claimed her sympathy when the next call for it came, none the +less readily because he had refused to be guided by her judgment, nor +was she the less ready to hear and sympathise. + + "The breaks, + Which humour interposed, too often makes," + +never came between these two, and her judgment guided him, and her +conscience restrained him, oftener than either of them knew. + +Long ago he had spoken to her about some change that he wished to make +in his will, and some words of hers spoken at the time, hindered him +from obeying his own impulse in the matter. He knew that it was not +wise to delay the right settlement of his affairs, and now the +arrangements necessary in regard to his daughter's marriage portion +brought the matter up again, and made some decision inevitable. + +That his son was dead, or worse than dead, he could not but believe, now +that another year had gone bringing no word from him. In his silent +broodings, he had in a sense got accustomed to the misery of the +thought. He was dead, or, if he lived, he was lost to him forever. +Even if he were living, his long silence proved to his father that he +never meant to come home while his father lived. + +He might come afterwards; and then his coming might bring trouble upon +his sisters, unless all things were settled beyond the power of change. +And so it must be settled. But, oh! the misery of it! + +To think that his only son might come when he was dead, and stand where +they had stood together at his mother's grave, and have only hard +thoughts of his father! How could it ever have come to such a pass +between them! The memory of those first days of their estrangement, +seemed to him now like a strange and terrible dream. Had he been hard +on his son? He was but a lad,--he repeated many a time,--he was but a +lad, and he had loved him so dearly. + +Nothing could be changed now. In the silence of the night, often amid +the business of the day, his heart grew soft towards his son, and he +repented of his anger and his hardness toward him. But nothing could be +changed now, and the future of his daughters must be made safe against +possible trouble when he should be no more. + +He had nothing that was new to say to his sister, except that the year +that had gone by bringing no word of him, made it less likely that they +would ever hear from him again; and she could only listen sadly and +acknowledge that it was even so. + +But though there was not much that was new to be said, they were rarely +left alone together that their talk did not turn on this matter. Mr +Dawson's mind was so full of all that must be gone into and arranged in +view of what he had to do, that he was sure to speak of it, and to dwell +upon it, more sometimes than was wise. And so it happened that Jean, +coming in from a solitary walk in the gloaming to the parlour, where +there was no light, was startled by hearing her father say,-- + +"I think that will be a just division. I will make it up to her aster, +but it is Jean who must have the land. I will not divide, and I will +not burden the land." + +Jean heard the words without fully taking in their meaning, till her +aunt said in her grave, firm voice,-- + +"And if he ever should come home, you may trust to my Jean to deal +kindly and justly with her brother." + +"Papa," said Jean coming forward, "I heard what you were saying." + +Mr Dawson did not answer for a moment, then he said, "It might have +been as well if ye hadna heard. But a while sooner or later can make +less difference than it would if ye werna a woman o' sense." + +"Papa! Have you forgotten--Geordie?" Her father answered nothing. Her +aunt put out her hand and touched hers, and Jean knew that the touch +meant that silence was best. But she could not keep silence. + +"Papa, you think that he is dead, but he is not. He will come home +again. And how could we look him in the face if we were to wrong him +when he is away! As for me, I will never take what is his by right-- +never. You must give the land to whom you will, but not to me." Still +her father did not utter a word. "Whisht, lassie," said her aunt; "ye +dinna ken what ye are saying. Dinna grieve your father, Jean." + +But Jean was "beside herself," her aunt thought. + +"Papa, was it not for George that you bought the land? Have you had +much pleasure in it since he went away? But, papa, he will come again. +He is sure to come home--soon." + +Jean's voice faltered a little. That night her father had come home +anxious and burdened with fears for the safety of the "John Seaton." +There had been some of the sailors' wives inquiring for news, and there +was no news to give them though it was more than time; and though Mr +Dawson had spoken cheerfully to the women, the few words he spoke, and +the grave face he wore at his own tea-table, had made it plain to Jean +that his fears were stronger than his hopes. + +He looked up at Jean when she said so eagerly that her brother was sure +to come home, as though he expected her to say more. But how could Jean +say more, knowing what she knew? It was too late now to tell that her +brother had sailed in the "John Seaton." She could only look at him +with pitiful, wet eyes, and repeat over and over again,-- + +"Papa, he will come home. He is sure to come. We must always hope. +And when he comes, he must not know that you ever thought of putting-- +another in his place. It must not be me. Even if I could give it all +back to him, it would not be the same. He could never believe you had +forgiven him if you were to do as you said. And, oh! Auntie Jean, he +is sure to come home. We can only wait and hope?" + +"Only wait and hope and pray. He will come if it is God's will. And if +he shouldna, God's will is best." + +There was nothing more to be said. But did the old man sitting there +with his face hidden in his hands assent to his sister's words? Had +God's will been best? If he could have had his will, all should have +been very differently ordered, as far as the past of his son was +concerned. As for the future--did he wish for his return? Could the +misery of their long estrangement ever be forgotten or outlived? + +The bright-faced, happy, loving lad never could return--never. What was +his son like now? What could he hope from him, or for him, after what +he knew of him? + +Oh, yes! he loved him, pitied him, longed for him; but if it were God's +will that he should come home again, would God's will be best? God +Himself could not blot out the past, and make them to each other all +that they had been before this trouble came between them. He groaned +aloud in his misery, and then he remembered that he was not alone. He +rose up as if to go, but sat down again, putting great constraint upon +himself. + +"We'll say nae mair about it now, lassie," said he hoarsely. + +"No, papa, only this, Wait a little while. George will surely come +home--or--we shall hear that he is dead. I think he will come home-- +soon." + +"Will our Geordie, our frank, true-hearted, noble lad ever come home to +us again, think you? Could God Himself give him back to us as he was?" + +"Whisht! George, man," said his sister gravely. "Think what ye're +saying! All things are possible with God." + +"Ay! to him that believes, but that is beyond belief--to me," said the +old man with a sob. + +"Papa," said Jean touching his bowed head with her hand, "He will come +home--soon." + +"And whether he come or no', we have just to live our lives and make the +best of them," said Mr Dawson rising; and he went away with no word of +good-night. + +Jean lent her young strength to the weakness and weariness of her aunt +as they went up the stairs together, but there were no more words spoken +between them. They kissed one another in silence, and each knew that +the other could not lighten the burden of care and pain that had fallen +on both. + +Though they had waited so long and so anxiously for the return of the +"John Seaton," it took the Dawsons by surprise at last. But from the +moment that the white sails broke the line of the far horizon, the ship +was watched by an ever-increasing crowd gathering on the pier, and on +the high rocks above the town. + +Glasses were passed from hand to hand, while some looked doubtful and +grave, and others joyfully declared that it was the long-expected +vessel. In an anguish of hope and fear fathers and mothers, wives and +sisters, waited. Some wept and prayed, and wandered up and down, others +sat in still excitement counting the moments till the suspense should +end. + +It was Sunday afternoon and so none of the Dawsons were in the town. +Even Miss Jean was at Saughleas. In the excitement of the moment none +thought of sending word to the owner of the ship. Not one of all the +anxious mothers and wives who were waiting but had more at stake than +he. + +"But when we are sure, and when I've seen our Tam, I'll be off to +Saughleas to tell the twa Miss Jeans," said Robbie Saugster to his +sister Maggie, who was waiting and hoping like the rest. + +"Ay. They'll be glad--or sorry," said Maggie with a sob. + +"The twa Miss Jeans, said he!" repeated Mrs Cairnie, who was wandering +up and down, anxious and intent as all the rest, though there was no one +belonging to her on the ship, or on any ship that sailed. "The twa Miss +Jeans! And what is it to them? Ay, I ken fine the auld man is chief +owner, and weel he likes his siller. But the twa Miss Jeans! what is it +to them? Except that they may ha'e had their ain thochts for a' the +puir bodies that ha'e grown feared this while," added the old woman +relenting. + +"They ha'e had many an anxious thought, and many a kind word and deed +for them--I ken weel," said another woman whose eyes were on the ship. + +"An' sae do I," said another who was sitting on a stone with her baby in +her arms, because her trembling limbs would not support her. "What +would I ha'e done but for auld Miss Jean since my man sailed." + +"Ay; and they say auld Miss Jean has been through it all." + +"And whether or no', she kens how to weep wi' those who weep." + +"But she'll `rejoice with them that do rejoice' this time, for as sure +as I ha'e e'en to see, yon's the `John Seaton'!" + +"And I'se awa' to the pier head," said Robbie. "Are you coming, +Maggie?" + +Maggie took two steps after him, then she turned. + +"Come, Mrs Barnet. It'll soon be over now. I'll carry wee Jamie." +And the crowd moved with them. + +It was the "John Seaton." All saw that by this time. There was but a +thin kirk that night, for none could force themselves away from the +shore, and some who set out for the kirk, turned aside with the rest to +meet and welcome those who were coming home. But the kirk was empty and +the crowd increased before the "John Seaton" touched the pier. + +The first who reached the deck was Robbie Saugster, and the first man he +saw was Willie Calderwood, tall and brown and strong, a hero in the +boy's eyes. + +"Our Tam?" said he with a gasp. + +"Tam's a' richt. Tell your mother I'll be round to see her." + +There was no time for more. The folk pressed forward, and all noticed +that the mate's face was graver that it ought to have been. There was +something wrong. + +"Is Mrs Horne here? Or my mother?" asked the mate. "Is that you, +Robbie Saugster? Run to my mother's house and say I bade her go to Mrs +Horne's, and bide till I come there." + +Robbie was off like a shot. "Is it ill news?" + +"If it's ill news, the laddie should speak in and tell auld Miss Jean." + +"Miss Jean is unco frail." + +"Miss Jean is ower at Saughleas." + +"And is it Captain Horne? And when did it happen?" + +"Puir woman! Her turn has come at last!" Many voices took up the "ill +news," telling it gravely till it went through the throng. Even those +who had got their own safe home again, spoke their welcome gravely, +thinking of her who had to hear heavy tidings. + +CHAPTER SIXTEEN. + +THE "JOHN SEATON." + +Mrs Calderwood stood waiting outside Mrs Horne's door, when her son +came there. + +"Is it you, mother?" + +"Is it you, Willie? Thank God?" + +"Amen. Mother, I bring heavy news to this house." + +"Ah! poor soul! I dared not go in till I knew the worst. Is it long +since it happened?" + +"Three months and more. He was long ill, and glad to go." + +"And must I tell her? Oh, if Miss Jean were here!" + +"I will tell her, but I wanted you here. Does she ken that the ship is +in?" + +"She must ken, I think. But it is no' like her to go out among the +throng. She's just waiting. God help her, poor woman!" + +"Ay, mother, _ye_ ken." + +"But, Willie--I must say one word. George Dawson? He sailed with you?" + +"Yes, mother, but--" + +A voice from within bade them enter, and there was time for no more. We +shall not enter with them. The first tears of a childless widow +suddenly bereaved, must not be looked upon by eyes indifferent. There +was much to be told--much that must have made her thankful even in her +bitter sorrow. But it was a painful hour to the returned sailor, and +there were tears on his cheeks when at last he came out to clasp his +joyful only sister at the door. + +But he could not linger long. He had more to do before he returned to +the ship. + +"I must go to Saughleas," said he, as they paused at the corner where +his sister must turn towards home. + +"To Saughleas? Oh! Willie let me go with you," she cried clinging to +him. "Mother will maybe bide with Mrs Horne a' nicht. Oh, Willie, let +me go! I'll keep out o' sicht, and naebody will ken. If ye maun go, +let me go with you." + +"I maun go. I promised Geordie." + +"Geordie? Have ye seen him? Did he sail in the `John Seaton'? And has +he come home?" + +"Ye dinna mean that ye never heard that he sailed with us?" + +"I never heard. Did Miss Dawson ken? It must have been that that made +her e'en grow like my mother's when she looked out over the sea." + +They were on their way to Saughleas by this time. They had much to say +to one another. Or rather Marion had much to say, and her brother had +much to hear. A few words were enough to tell all that he needed to +tell until his mother should hear him also. + +But Marion had to give him the news of a year and more,--the ups and +downs, the comings and goings of all their friends and acquaintance; the +sickness of one, the health of another; the births and deaths; the +marriages past and in prospect. With the last the name of May Dawson +was mentioned, and being herself intensely interested in the matter, +Marion went into particulars. + +"He is an Englishman; but they all like him. I like his lace. Yes, I +saw him once, and Jean made me sing a song to him--`The bonny House o' +Airlie.' And auld Miss Jean likes him, she told my mother. He is no' a +rich man, and folk wonder at Mr Dawson being so well pleased. But what +seems strange to me is, that May should be married before her sister. +And I whiles think, that maybe if he had seen Jean first--but love goes +where it is sent, they say," added Marion gravely. + +"And her sister's turn will come next," said Willie. + +"Oh! as to that--" said Marion, and then she was silent, adding after a +little, "and _he_ was an Englishman too. May is nice, ye ken, but +there's no' another in all Scotland like Jean." + +They were approaching Saughleas by this time. They went slowly round +the drive to the open hall door. The summer gloaming was not at its +darkest yet, and there were no lights visible. As they stood for a +moment at the door, they heard enough to make them aware that a +messenger had preceded them. + +"It's Robbie Saugster, Miss Dawson. He says he has news for you--or for +Mr Dawson, I canna say which. Will you come but the house and see him? +or will I send him ben to you?" + +But Jean did not need to answer. Robbie had followed his message. + +"Miss Dawson, it's the `John Seaton.' She's won safe hame. But there's +ill news. It's the Captain. But I saw Willie Calderwood, and he +said--" + +It was hard on Robbie that after all his trouble, the telling of the +news should fall to another. A heavy hand was laid on his shoulder, and +a voice said,-- + +"That'll do, Robbie, lad. I'll say my ain say." + +And then Jean stood face to face with Willie Calderwood. For one +wonderful moment they clasped hands and gazed into each other's eyes. +Not a word, not even the name, of George was spoken. And then came a +joyful cry from May,-- + +"It is Willie Calderwood. Oh, Willie! Willie! Papa, the `John Seaton' +has come." + +Then there was a minute or two of confusion in the hall, hand shaking +and congratulations, and then Mr Dawson ordered lights, and they went +into the parlour where auld Miss Jean was sitting, for she had not moved +with the rest. She drew down the young man's handsome head and kissed +him. + +"Oh, your happy mother!" said she softly. + +But the mate of the "John Seaton" did not sit down. He stood erect +beside Miss Jean's chair, with his eyes cast down upon the floor. He +must go back to the ship at once. He would report himself at Mr +Dawson's office to-morrow; he had come to-night because of a promise-- + +"Did I hear something about ill news?" said Mr Dawson. "Jean, what was +it the laddie said about Captain Horne." + +"Yes," said the sailor, "it is bad news. It is three months and more +since we lost him; a heavy loss. A better sailor never sailed--nor a +better man." + +There was silence for a minute. + +"His wife! Puir body!" said Miss Jean. + +"My mother is with her," said the sailor. "They were wishing for you, +Miss Jean, to tell her. I almost think she kenned what was coming." + +The young man seemed to forget where he was for the moment. + +There were more questions asked, and more particulars given, and all the +while the mate stood beside Miss Jean's chair, making his answers clear +and brief, and suffering no sympathetic friendliness to soften voice or +manner, except when he spoke to Miss Jean. + +"And are there any more sorrowful hearts in Portie the nicht?" asked she +gravely. "Did a' the lave win hame?" + +"Saugster, the second mate, did not, nor two others. But nobody need +grieve for Saugster. There was never less occasion. He'll be home all +right, I hope soon." + +And then he told how they had met in with an American fishing vessel +partially disabled from encountering a heavy storm, and far out of her +course. She had lost four of her men, one of them the mate, from the +capsizing of a boat. The captain was down with fever, and the ship was +at the mercy of the winds and waves as there was no one on board who had +the knowledge or skill to sail her. + +"We might have taken the rest of the men on board, but it would not have +been right to abandon their ship, and as Tam Saugster and--two others +were willing to go, there was nothing to be said. I dare say they are +safe in Portland harbour by this time." + +Mr Dawson asked some questions as to the cargo and value of the vessel +taken in charge, and the mate answered them briefly, and then he said, +"And now I must go. I came to-night, because of a promise I made--" + +Jean had been sitting all this time in the shadow of her lather's +high-backed chair, a little out of sight. She rose now and stood gazing +at the mate with dilated eyes and a face on which not a trace of colour +lingered. He did not look at her, but at her father, who had risen +also, ready to give his hand at parting. + +"It is a letter," said the sailor. "I must give it into your own hand, +as I promised George." + +"George!" repeated Mr Dawson suddenly falling back into his chair +again, with a face as white as Jean's. + +"Yes. He sailed with us. You surely must have heard of that." + +"I heard nothing of it." + +"Well, that is queer?" + +He hesitated and remained silent, as he might not have done if he had +seen the agony of the father's face. Jean had stretched out her hand +and touched him. She was trying to say something, but her lips uttered +no sound. + +"My son! my son! Oh, dinna tell me that he didna come home?" + +It was an exceeding bitter cry. + +"He didna come home--" + +"Oh, Willie, tell him?" cried an eager voice, and his sister sprang +forward and a hand was laid on the old man's arm. "He hasna come home, +but he's safe and well and he is coming home. And he is--good now. He +was ay good, but now he is sorry, and he's coming home. And--Oh, sir, I +beg your pardon--" added Marion, coming to herself, and she would have +darted away again, but Jean held her fast. + +Willie's heart softened as he met the old man's look. + +"George was one of the two that went with Saugster. There is no better +sailor than Tam, as ye ken; but he's open to the temptation o' strong +drink. If there is any one that can keep Tam straight, it's George. I +dare say they are in port by this time." + +"Willie," said Miss Jean, "tell us how it happened that he sailed with +you. Surely you should have told us before you let him go?" + +"I did my best, Miss Jean. He came on board that last morning with some +of the men who had been making a night of it on shore, but I did not +know it till we were nearly ready to set sail. I did my best to +persuade him to stay at home. I sent three different messages to his +father, but he couldna be found; and I wrote a line to--" + +Mr Dawson groaned. + +"I had heard that he had been seen in the town, in company with Niel +Cochrane of the How. I went there to seek him, and the ship had sailed +before I came back again." + +"It was to be," said the sailor. "And though I was sorry at the time, I +was glad afterwards, and ye'll be glad too, sir. It has done him no +ill, but good. He has gathered himself up again. He is a man now--a +man among a thousand. And ye havena read your letter." + +A curious change had come over the young man's manner, though there was +no one calm enough to notice it but Mr Manners. He had for the greater +part of the time not been looking at Mr Dawson, but over his head, or +at any one else rather than the master of the house when he spoke. But +now he sat down near him, his voice softening wonderfully, and his face +looking like the one that was leaning on Miss Dawson's shoulder on the +other side of the old man's chair. + +It was a very handsome face, but for that Mr Manners would have cared +little. It was a noble face, strong and true; a face to trust, "a face +to love," said he to himself. He had heard of Willie Calderwood before, +as he had by this time heard of the most of May's friends, and he had +gathered more from the story than May had meant to tell. And now he +noticed that the handsome face had hardly turned towards Jean, and that +Jean had not spoken since he came into the room. + +Mr Dawson opened his letter with fingers that trembled. There was only +a line or two, and when he had read it, he laid it on the table, and +laid his face down upon it without a word; and when he lifted it again +there were tears upon it. + +"Oh, Willie, man! if ye had brought him home! There is nothing of mine +but ye might have had for the asking, if ye had but brought him home!" + +The young man rose and walked up and down the room once or twice, and +then sat down again, saying gently,-- + +"I had no right to prevent his going. He was in his lather's ship of +his own will, and though he submitted to command through all the voyage, +that was of his own will too. And I am no' sure that I would have kept +him, even if I could have done it. It was to save life that he went. +Danger? Well, it turned out that there was really less danger than was +supposed when he offered to go. I went on board with him and we +overhauled the ship and did what was needed to make all safe. As to its +being his duty--he had no doubts o' that. It was to save life." + +"Dinna go yet, Willie, man," said Mr Dawson, putting out his hand as +the mate rose. "We are a' friends here. This is Hugh Corbett, his +father was your father's friend. And this is Mr Manners who has come +seeking our May. It is no secret now, my lassie." + +The two shook hands heartily--each "kenning a man when he saw him." And +then the sailor offered his hand to May. And if Jean had had any doubts +remaining as to the nature of the mutual interest of these two they were +set at rest now. May blushed, but met his look frankly, and for the +first time since he came Willie smiled brightly--a smile that "minded" +Jean of the days before trouble of any kind had fallen upon them. + +The rest of the story might have kept till another day, as Willie said, +but he yielded to entreaty and sat down again. He had nothing to tell +of George's story before he found him on board ship. He had come home +meaning to see his father, but had fallen into bad hands, and, +discouraged and ashamed, had changed his mind, not caring whether he +lived or died. If he had not been allowed to go in the "John Seaton," +there were other vessels leaving Portie in which he could have sailed. + +"I could only have kept him at home by using force, or by betraying him, +as he called it. I thought he was better at sea with a friend than on +shore with those who did him no good--for home he would not go. So I +risked the captain's anger and said nothing. But I never supposed but +you would hear about his sailing, as there must have been more than one +who knew it." + +No one made any reply to this. Captain Horne, a good and just, but +stern man, was sorely displeased when he found that his owner's son had +sailed secretly with them; and he showed his displeasure by ignoring his +presence on board after the very first, and leaving him to suffer all +the hardships of the lot he had chosen. George accepted the situation, +asked no favours, and shirked no duty, but lived in the forecastle, and +fared as the rest fared there. + +After a time he grew strong and cheerful and did his part for the +general entertainment, chatting and chaffing--singing songs and spinning +yarns, and winning the good-will of every man and boy on board. Nor did +he lose his time altogether, as far as self-improvement was concerned. +He read every book on board, and at leisure times gave himself to the +reading of mathematics and the study of navigation with his friend, and +had done it to some purpose, his friend declared. + +They reached the Arctic seas in good time, and had there met with more +than the usual success, so that they had good hope of getting home to +Portie before the year was over. But after that heavy storms had +overtaken them, and they had driven before the wind many days and nights +without a glimpse of sun or star, and so had drifted far out of their +course. They had taken shelter at last in an unknown bay and had lain +ice bound for many months. + +Here sore sickness fell on Captain Horne, against which--being a man +strong and brave and patient--he struggled long, only to yield at last, +and take to his berth helpless, and for a time, hopeless. A good man, a +true Christian--("ane o' your kind, Miss Jean," said the sailor),--he +had yet fallen into utter despondency, out of which, strangely enough, +the foolish lad who had wandered so far from home, and from the right +way, had helped him. + +When he came to this part of the story, the mate rose and took two or +three turns up and down the room again; then he came and stood beside +Miss Jean's chair, saying softly,-- + +"Sometime, Miss Jean, when Geordie comes home, ye must ask him about it. +I could never tell you all he was to the sick man in those days. No +son ever served a father more faithfully. No mother ever nursed, cared +for, and comforted a sick child with more entire forgetfulness of self. +Whiles he read to him out of the Bible, and out of other books, and +whiles he talked to him and told him things that he had heard--from his +mother, I dare say, and from you, Miss Jean, and whiles--once at least +in my hearing--he prayed with him, because in the darkness that had +fallen on him the old man couldna pray for himself I mind that night +well." + +There was a long pause after this, and then he went on; "Geordie will +tell you all about it better than I could do. A good while before the +end, light came back to the captain--and, oh! the brightness of it! and +the peace that fell on him! The good book says `It is more blessed to +give than to receive,' and that was the way with Geordie. For as much +good as came to our captain through him, there came more to himself; and +it came to him first. + +"You are one of those, Miss Jean, who believe in a change of nature,-- +coming from darkness to light--from `the power of Satan onto God.' +Well, I would have said that Geordie needed that change less than most +folk, but it was like that with him. Even I, who saw few faults in him +before, could see the difference afterward. But it canna be spoken +about, and it is more than time that I were away." + +However he sat down again for a moment on the other side of the table +where he had been sitting before, and went on to tell, how after a few +bright days, the captain died, and they buried him in the sea. + +At last they got away from the ice, and were beginning to count the +days, before they might hope to see the harbour of Portie, when they +fell in with the ship in distress, and this ended in Tam Saugster being +sent to take her to her port, and in George going also, to help Tam to +withstand his foe. For the "John Seaton" was a temperance ship, and Tam +had tasted nothing stronger than tea or coffee since he lost sight of +Portie harbour. + +"He had sailed with us, just to give himself another chance, he said, +and, poor lad, he had gone far the wrong gait--and he was another man; a +fine fellow truly, when he was out of the way of temptation. And whiles +I have thought it was for Tam's sake, more even than for the sake of the +Yankee ship and its crew, that George was so fain to go. It cost him +much no' to come home with us, for he had come to a clearer sight of-- +two or three things,--he told me. But I think he made a sort of +thank-offering of himself for the time, and even if I could have +hindered him, I could hardly have found it in my heart to do it. And he +is sure to come soon." + +"He is in safe keeping," said Miss Jean. + +"Yes, he is that, and we may hear from him any day." There was not much +more said. Mr Manners had some questions, and so had Miss Jean, and +May asked if her brother had changed much as to looks; and Mr Dawson +looked from one to the other as each spoke, but he did not say another +word, nor did Jean till Willie rose to go. "Now, Marion, it is late and +we must make haste." Then Jean said softly--it was the first word she +had uttered since he came into the house-- + +"No, Marion. It is too late to go. Willie will tell your mother that +you are going to bide with me to-night." + +Of course that was the wisest thing for the girl to do, as Mrs +Calderwood might remain all night with poor Mrs Horne, and it was +necessary that her brother should go back to the ship. And so the mate +went away alone. + +CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. + +HOME COMING. + +That night Mr Dawson and Miss Jean sat long together, when the others +had gone away, and for the most part they sat in silence. Mr Dawson +had some thoughts which he would not have liked to tell his sister,-- +thoughts which he knew she would call wrong and thankless--which he +would gladly have put away. + +The good things of this life, the glad surprises, the unhoped for +reprieves from sorrow, rarely come without some drawback of regret or +pain. That he should have got tidings of his son; that he should be +coming home, and glad to come; that he should be well and worthy, a man +to honour and to trust,--how utterly beyond his hopes had this been +yesterday! + +His son was coming home; but, alas! he could never have his +light-hearted, bonny laddie back again. George was a man now, "knowing +good and evil." It could never be again between them as it had been +before their trouble came. + +"Ane o' your kind, Miss Jean," the mate had said; "a changed man." + +Mr Dawson's thoughts went back to the time of his sister's trouble, +when she had become "a changed woman." All the anger and vexation, that +had then seemed natural and right, because of her new ways, had passed +out of his heart, a score of years and more. It was as though it had +never been. He glanced up at her placid face, and said to himself, as +he had said before many times, "A woman among a thousand." But he +remembered the old pain, though it was gone, and he shrank from the +thought that he might have to suffer again through his son. + +"He is a man now, and must go his ain way," he said to himself, moving +uneasily on his chair and sighing. "We canna begin again where we left +off. Ungrateful? Yes, I dare say it would be so called; but, oh! +Geordie, my lad! I doubt your way and mine must lie asunder now." + +Miss Jean too had some thoughts which she would not have cared to tell, +but they were not about George; for him she was altogether joyful. If +Willie Calderwood's words about him were true, and he were indeed "a +changed man," nothing else mattered much in Miss Jean's esteem. The +"good," for which he had God's promise as security would be wrought out +in him whether by health or sickness, by joy or sorrow, by possession or +loss, and through him might be brought help and healing, higher hopes, +and better lives to many. The Master who had chosen him would use him +for His own work, and that implied all that was to be desired for any +one to Miss Jean. + +But in the midst of her joy for him, she could not forget Jean's +silence, and Willie Calderwood's averted eyes. And though she told +herself that possible pain and disappointment could work good to her +niece as well as to her nephew, she could not but shrink beforehand from +the suffering that might be before her. But it was not a trouble to be +spoken about. + +Neither had spoken for a long time, when the door opened and Jean came +in. She was wrapped in her dressing-gown, over which her long hair +hung, and her face looked pale and troubled. + +"Are you here still, Auntie Jean? No, don't go, papa," said she as he +rose. "I have something to tell you." + +"It maun be late. I thought you had been in your bed this hour and +more," said her father. + +"Yes, papa, I was in bed, but I couldna sleep." + +"For joy, I suppose?" said he smiling. + +"Yes, for joy and--because--papa, I knew that my brother had sailed in +the John Seaton." + +"You knew! And never spoke?" + +"Would it have been better if I had spoken? Would you have suffered +less? But I did not know it till after the ship had sailed, and I +thought it would break your heart to know that he could have been here +and gone away again, without a word. I tried to tell you afterwards, +and you, Auntie Jean, as well. I longed to tell you. I could hardly +bear the doubt and fear of the last few weeks. But I thought if it was +so terrible to me, what would it be to you!" + +Mr Dawson did not answer for a moment. He was thinking of the stormy +nights of last winter, and the dread in her eyes as they looked out over +the angry sea. + +"No wonder that you were anxious often, and afraid." + +"Ought I to have told you? But you are not angry now, papa?" + +"There is no good being angry--and you did it for the best." + +And then Jean told them about the note that Robbie Saugster had brought +too late to let her see her brother before the ship sailed. Miss Jean +said it had doubtless been wisely and kindly ordered, that the lad would +come home and be a better son, and a better man for the discipline of +the time. And then when they went upstairs together, she added a few +joyful words to Jean, about the change that had come to her brother, and +about the peace that would henceforth be between his father and him. +But she would not let her linger beside her for any more talk. + +"Ye need your rest, my dear, and we'll baith ha'e quieter hearts, and be +better able to measure the greatness of the mercy that has come to us. +And other things will take a mair natural look as well." + +Though Mr Manners had only one more day at Saughleas at this time, he +accepted Mr Dawson's invitation to walk with him to Portie in the +morning. Mr Dawson wished to show him the "John Seaton," and Mr +Manners wished to see again the fine young fellow, who might, if he +chose, henceforth have the command of the ship. Mr Dawson had +something to say to him on the way. + +"You will get a scanter portion with your wife than you would have +gotten if--we had heard no news." + +"Oh! My wife! My bonny May," said Mr Manners with smiling eyes. "But +then I shall have a brother--I who never had one--and I shall have a +right to my share of the family joy." + +Mr Dawson did not speak for a moment. + +"There will be something at once," and he named a sum, "and there will +be something more at my death." + +Then he went on to mention certain arrangements that were to be made, +and Mr Manners, of course, seemed to listen with interest; but when he +ceased speaking, he said gravely,-- + +"I have only one fear, lest the joyful expectation of having her brother +home again, may make May wish to delay her marriage." + +"As to that--if he come at once he will be here long before the first. +And if he should delay--no, I do not think that that ought to be allowed +to interfere with your plans." + +"Thank you," said Mr Manners. "Oh, he will be sure to be here in +time." + +"Wha kens?" said Mr Dawson. "It seems beyond belief that I should ever +have my son back again. I never can in one sense. He is a man now, and +changed. I wouldna seem unthankful; but, oh, man! if ye had ever seen +my George, ye would ken what I mean." + +He was greatly moved. If he had tried to say more, daylight as it was, +and on the open road, his voice must have failed him. They walked on in +silence for a while--for what could Mr Manners say?--and before they +reached the High-street, he was himself again. + +There were many eyes upon him as they went down the street, for by this +time it was known through all the town that George had sailed in the +"John Seaton." But "the old man took it quietly enough," some said, and +others, who saw him in the way of business through the day, said the +same. The sailors in the "John Seaton," when later he and Mr Manners +went down to the pier, saw nothing unusual in his rough, but kindly, +greetings. There was not one of them but would have liked to say a +kindly and admiring word of "Geordie"; for "Geordie" he had been to them +all, through the long year; and doubtless it would have pleased the +father to hear it. But he heard nothing of it there. + +It did not surprise these men to see that he took it quietly. Their own +fathers and mothers took quietly the comings and goings of their sons. +But it would have surprised them to know that the old man kept silence +because he was not sure whether his voice would serve him if he should +try to speak. He turned back again for a minute when Mr Manners and +the mate came on deck, when all had been said that was necessary on that +occasion, and it would have surprised them to know that it was to shut +himself into the little cabin where George had so long served and +comforted the dying captain, and that he there knelt down and thanked +God for His goodness to his son. + +He seemed to take it quietly as far as people generally saw during the +next ten days; but Jean put away all remorseful thoughts as to the +silence she had kept during the last long year. + +"He never could have borne the long suspense," she said to herself, as +she watched him through the days and heard his restless movements +through nights of sleepless waiting. He never spoke of his son, or his +anxiety with regard to him; but Jean took pains to speak of her brother +to others in his hearing; and sometimes she spoke to himself, and he +listened, but he never made reply. + +"He will grow morbid and ill if this continues long," she said one day +to her aunt. + +"It will not continue long," said Miss Jean. + +"No, he will come soon, if he is coming." + +"Oh, he is coming! ye needna doubt that. He is no seeking his ain way +now. He'll come back to his father's house." + +And so he did, and he found his father watching for him. He did not go +all the way to Portie, but stopped, as his father knew he would, at a +little station two or three miles on the other side of Saughleas, and +walked home. It was late and all was quiet in the house. Summer rain +was softly falling, but Mr Dawson stood at the gate as he had stood for +many nights; and George heard his voice before he saw him. + +It might have been said--if there had been any one there to see--that +Mr Dawson "took it quietly" even then. There were not many words +spoken between them, and they were simple words, spoken quietly enough. +How it happened neither of them could have told,--whether the father +followed the son, or the son the father,--but instead of turning to the +terrace, where the drawing-room window stood open to let them in, they +turned down the walk, past the well into the wood; and whatever was said +of confession or forgiveness was said by the grave of the lad's mother, +in the stillness of the summer midnight, in the hearing of God alone. + +No one but Jean knew that night that George had come home, and Jean did +not go to her brother till she had heard her father shut himself into +his room. Mr Dawson himself brought food to his son, and wine, and +watched him as he partook of it. But when he would have poured out the +wine, he staid his hand. + +"I promised Tam Saugster--we promised one another--not to touch or taste +before he comes home to Portie." + +"It is for his sake then?" + +"And for my own," said George gravely. + +His father was silent. Strangely mingled feelings moved him. + +"Is he so weak that he cannot refrain? Is he so strong that he can +resist?" + +Even in the midst of his joy in having his son back again, "clothed and +in his right mind," he was more inclined to resent the implied weakness, +than to rejoice in the assured strength. But he uttered no word of his +thoughts then or ever, though George did not release himself from his +vow even when Tam Saugster came home to Portie "a changed man" also. + +When the house was quiet again, and the lights were out, Jean stole +softly to her brother's room, for one embrace, one kiss, a single word +of welcome. But she would not linger. + +"We couldna stop, if we were once to begin, Geordie; and you are tired, +and my father would be ill-pleased. I only wanted to be sure that you +were really home again. And I'm no' sure yet," she added laughing and +touching with caressing fingers the soft brown beard, that she could +just see, for a faint gleam of dawn was breaking over the sea. They +looked at each other with shy pleasure, these two. Jean blushed and +smiled under her brother's admiring eyes, but she would not linger. + +"My father will hear us, and he will not be pleased," said she going +softly away. + +But was it not a joyful morning? + +"May, are you ready? Come down quickly. I have something that I want +you to see." + +"May, I think it is I who have something to see," said George, as his +younger sister came in. One might search the countryside and find no +other such brother and sisters as these three. The father looked at +them with proud but sorrowful eyes, for their mother was not there to +see them. + +George was changed, even more than his sisters. He had gone away a lad, +and he had come back a man. There was more than the soft brown beard to +show that. He had grown taller even, his father thought, he had +certainly grown broader and stronger. The colour that used to be as +clear red and white as his sisters' was gone. His face was brown and +his eye was bright and steady, and his smile--when it came--was the same +sunny smile that his father had so longed for during the sorrowful days +of his absence. But it did not come so often as it used to come, and at +other times, his face was touched with a gravity new to them all. + +But there was no gloom on it, and no trace of any thing that those who +loved him would have grieved to see. It was a stronger face now than it +had been in the old days, but it was none less a pleasant face, and in a +little while they forgot that it had changed. It was George's face. +That was enough. + +"It is a _man's_ face. And he'll show himself a man yet, and do a man's +share in the work of the world," said the proud and happy father. And +in his heart he acknowledged his son's right to take his own way and +live his own life, even though the way might lie apart from his, and +though the life he chose might not be just the life that his father +would have chosen for him. + +"Your aunt should have been here, Jean. You should have sent for her," +said Mr Dawson in a little. + +"I will go and see her," said George. "I will walk in with you to the +town, by and by." + +"But we must have her here, all the same, for a day or two. Ye'll send +for her afterward, Jean." + +But they did not go in the morning as they meant to do. They lingered +long over the breakfast-table, and then in the garden and in the wood, +and the father and son went down the burn and through the green parks +beyond, never thinking how the time was passing, till Jean came to tell +them that dinner was waiting. + +After dinner they went to the town. But they did not go down the +High-street. They were both shy at the thought of all the eyes that +would be upon them there. + +"And it should be your aunt first," said Mr Dawson. + +So they went down a lane that led straight to the sea and then turned to +Miss Jean's house. + +"You'll go in by yourself and I'll step on and come back in a while," +said his father. + +He had not stepped far before a hand touched his arm, and a pair of +shining eyes met his. + +"Oh, Mr Dawson! Is it George come home? And isna your heart like to +break for joy?" + +There were tears as well as smiles on the beautiful face that looked up +into his with joyful sympathy and with entire confidence that sympathy +would be welcome. For an instant Mr Dawson met her look with strangely +contending emotions. Then a strange thing happened. He took the bonny +moved face between his two hands, and stooping down, kissed it "cheek +and chin" without a word. + +He would not have believed the thing possible a minute before, he could +hardly believe if a minute afterwards, as he turned back again towards +his sister's house. Mrs Cairnie coming slowly down the street saw it-- +and then she doubted, telling herself, that "her e'en were surely nae +marrows," or that the last "drappie" she had taken at "The Kail Stock" +had been ower muckle for her, and the first person to whom she told the +story thought the same. + +Bonny Marion's mother and brother saw it from the window of their own +house: he with amazement, she with dismay. + +"It maun be that Geordie has come home, and that the joy of it has +softened his heart," said Willie. + +"Ay. He has gotten his son back again?" said Mrs Calderwood. And +Willie knew that his mother was thinking of her child who would never +return. + +Marion came dancing in with the glad news. She told it soberly after a +glance at her mother's face. And then they all sat waiting, knowing +that George and his father would pass that way. + +But George did not pass. Both men stood still before their door, and +George's hand was laid for an instant on his father's shoulder. They +knew what he was saying though they did not hear him speak, and then Mr +Dawson went on "looking grave, but no' angry," Marion whispered, and +George came into the house. + +Mrs Calderwood received him as she had received her son, kissing him +and thanking God for his safe home coming at last. Their meeting could +not be all gladness, remembering how they had parted. George was very +white and silent. Even Marion's bright face and joyful welcome could +not win a smile. Willie and he had much to say to each other, but all +that must wait till another time. George could stay but a moment, for +his father was waiting for him at the pier. + +That night Mrs Calderwood and her son sat together in the gathering +gloaming, and after a long silence Willie said, "Would it break your +heart altogether, mother, to think of leaving Portie?" + +"Hearts are no' so easily broken as I used to think. I could leave it, +if it were the wisest thing to do. I could leave even Scotland itself, +for that matter." + +"Yes, it would end in leaving Scotland--if any change were to be made. +But as far as you are concerned, you needna be in haste for a time." + +"A while sooner or later would make little difference," said his mother. + +Nothing more was said; but from that night, Mrs Calderwood knew that it +might come to leaving Portie with them, and she set herself calmly to +look the possibility in the face. + +George came home about the middle of July, and the preparations for +May's marriage were nearly completed by that time. Jean had determined +that it was to be a very pretty wedding, and so it was; and having said +this, little more need be said about it. It was like all other pretty +weddings--that is to say like pretty weddings in the north. The guests +were many, and merrier than wedding guests usually are in other regions. + +Mr and Mrs Seldon came from London to be there, and other friends came +from other places. George was "best man," and there were many +bridesmaids. Marion Calderwood was one of them, and Willie was an +invited guest. But at the last moment Willie failed them, and the only +reason given, was the unsatisfactory one of "business before pleasure." +On the very morning of the marriage he left home "for London, or +Liverpool, or somewhere,--before I was up," said Marion, who came early +to put on her pretty bridesmaid's dress in Jean's room; and George, when +May questioned him, said with absolute truth, that not a word had passed +between him and Willie as to the reason of his going away. + +Mr Manners might have cast some light on the matter, though he also +could have said that no word had been spoken with regard to it. Intent +on making the acquaintance of George, they had set out the night before +the wedding for a long walk along the shore, and meeting young +Calderwood, he turned at their invitation and went with them. + +Probably Mr Manners learned more about both of them in listening to +their conversation with each other than he would have had he had one of +them to himself. As it was he enjoyed it much. They went far and +before they returned the gloaming had fallen. + +Standing for a moment at the point where the High-street of Portie turns +off from the road which leads in one direction along the shore, and in +the other out towards Saughleas, they heard a voice, familiar enough to +George and Willie, coming through an open cottage window. + +"Weel, weel! I maun be gaen. Ilka ane kens her ain trouble. And them +that ha'e nane, whiles think they ha'e, and that's as ill to thole till +real trouble comes, and then they ken the difference. But I maun awa' +hame." + +Mrs Cairnie lingered, however, at the open door. + +"Eh, woman! wha's yon comin' up the High-street? Wha would ha'e thought +it? The Dawsons are on the top o' the wave enow! Do ye no' see, woman? +Yon's young Miss Jean's Englishman." + +Mr Manners had not followed all the speech, but he understood the last +part of it, and never doubted that it referred to himself, "though she +has mistaken the lady's name," said he, turning laughing eyes on young +Calderwood. + +But Willie did not meet his look. He was looking down the High-street, +and George was looking at Willie whose face had grown white through all +its healthy brown. Mr Dawson was coming slowly up the street, and by +his side there walked a young man large, and fair, and handsome; a +gentleman evidently whom neither of them had ever seen before. A groom +driving a dog-cart followed slowly after. + +"It must be Captain Harefield. May has spoken of him," said Mr +Manners. + +It was Captain Harefield. Mr Dawson introduced him as they came up, +and from his father's manner George knew that he was pleased at the +meeting. + +"I have been trying to persuade Captain Harefield to come to the +marriage to-morrow," said he. "It is short notice, I know, but not too +short, if you will come out to Saughleas to-night and see the bride." + +Captain Harefield murmured something about an engagement, but he looked +as though he would willingly be persuaded to break it. Mr Manners +first, and then George added a word, and he yielded, and he and Mr +Dawson drove off in the dog-cart at once. + +"Ye'll come with us, Willie?" said George laying his hand on his +shoulder, in boyish fashion. The friends looked at one another, and +both changed colour a little. + +"No' the nicht, I think, Geordie." + +Then they shook hands and the mate went rapidly down the street, and the +others were more than half way to Saughleas before George uttered a +word. + +That night Willie Calderwood startled his mother by saying suddenly +after a long time of silence,-- + +"I am off to-morrow morning for Liverpool, mother. I have a letter that +I meant to show to George, but I couldna, and you must tell him. I have +a chance to be second officer on one of the great ocean steamships. +What do you think of that, mother? I think I'll take it." + +"Then you've given up all thoughts of the `John Seaton'?" + +"Yes. This is a far better post--as you must see, mother, with a chance +of promotion. I mean to command one of these fine ships yet." + +"But must you go so soon? You are expected to go to the marriage +to-morrow." + +"Yes. And I would have liked to see the last o' May Dawson. But +`business before pleasure,' ye ken, mother; and nobody will miss me, I +dare say. And Marion will say all that is needful to the bride." + +Willie spoke cheerily--too cheerily, his mother thought, to be quite +natural. "No thought of Jean Dawson shall ever come between my mother +and me," Willie was thinking. "Even if she cared for me, it could never +be; and I must get away from the sight of her, or I shall do something +foolish, and give my mother all the old pain over again." Then after a +long time of silence, he said, "If you were to live in Liverpool, or +near it, mother, I could see you oftener than if I had to come to +Portie." + +"Yes, I have been thinking of that." + +"Marion wouldna like it?" + +"No, I dare say not. But it might be well for her to have a change." + +"Well, then, that is settled. But there need be no haste, mother." + +"A month or two sooner or later would make little difference." + +And then they were silent again. Mrs Calderwood was thinking, "I am +sorrier for her than I am for him. He is a man, with a man's work to +do, and he will forget her. But as for Jean--she's no' the kind of +woman to forget." + +So Willie kissed his sister in her morning sleep, and was away long +before she opened her eyes on May's marriage day. If any one but his +sister missed him amid the gay doings of the day, no one said so. The +eyes and thoughts of all were on the bride and her attendant maidens, +and it was a sight worth seeing. + +May behaved as a bride should, who of her own free will is leaving her +father's house to go to the house of her husband. Jean stood by her and +her quietness kept the bride quiet also. But even Jean's colour changed +many times as they stood with all the kindly admiring eyes upon them. + +And when the ceremony was over, and the breakfast, and the +speech-making, and the few painful moments of lingering that followed, +and the happy bridegroom had at last gone away with his bonny bride, +then nobody saw Jean till a long hour and more was over. + +CHAPTER EIGHTEEN. + +ANOTHER PROPOSAL. + +Captain Harefield was at the wedding an honoured guest, as all could +see, and for a very good reason, it was said. Through the Blackford +groom, it had come to be known in Portie that a change had fallen on the +fortunes of Captain Harefield. + +Through the sad and sudden death of a distant cousin, he had become heir +to a large estate in one of the southern English counties, and though he +might have a while to wait for the full enjoyment of his inheritance, +and for the tide that was to come with it, there was in the mean time a +happy change in his circumstances as far as money was concerned. He had +not come to Blackford House this time, to escape duns. And his sister +had not come to take care of him. + +The chances were that he had an object in view in coming, and on the +wedding day more than one of those who saw the looks he cast at the +bride and her maidens, had felt satisfied as to what that object might +be. Mr Dawson was one of these. + +There were several guests still in the house, when a week had passed. +Mr Dawson and his sister were sitting one afternoon on the terrace, +when Captain Harefield rode up, and in a little he had joined Miss +Dawson in the garden. The father watched them as they came and went +among the trees. + +"Jean has the ba' at her foot this time, I'm thinking," said he. "Weel, +weel! It it pleases her, it will please me." + +"She'll never please ye in that way. Dinna think it." + +"I'm no' so sure that it would please me--no' so sure as I was this time +last year. But I think she might be satisfied." + +"She'll need a stronger hand to guide her." + +"She has strength and sense to guide _him_, and that might do as well." + +"It wouldna be for her happiness were she to be persuaded to such a +marriage," said Miss Jean gravely. + +"Persuaded! No, that is not likely. But, Jean, I like the lad, though +he is no' a Solomon, I confess, and he has a high place in the world--or +he will ha'e ane--and Jean would do him credit." + +"High place or no', he is no' her equal in any important sense. If she +cared for him, she might guide him and put up with him, as many another +woman has to do. As to persuading her--no one could do that; but if she +thought your heart was set on it, she might persuade herself to her ain +unhappiness." + +"I'se never persuade her. And I would ha'e ill sparin' her. But it +would be a fine position, and she would keep it we'll." + +"Ay, if she could take it with a good conscience. But that she canna +do," said Miss Jean. + +When the bustle attending the wedding was over and all the guests were +gone, a new life began at Saughleas. As far as George was concerned, it +was not just the life his father would have chosen for him. But George +was a man now, and every day that passed proved to his father that he +was a man that might safely be trusted to guide himself. It would have +pleased his father that he should at once have taken his place as the +young laird of Saughleas. There were many signs among the other +proprietors of the neighbourhood, that he would have been welcomed to +the houses of people who had held hitherto only business intercourse +with his father. + +There was no need for George to return to the counting-house again. Mr +Dawson acknowledged himself to be a richer man than was generally +supposed, and George, as the heir of Saughleas, might "take a long +tether," as far as the spending of money was concerned. + +And he need not lead an idle life. All the congenial occupations of a +country gentleman were open to him, to say nothing of the amusements +which only men of comparative leisure could enjoy. Or he might farm his +own land. Whether he could make such farming profitable to himself +might be doubtful, but he might do good in the countryside, and he would +thus have an opportunity of bringing himself into contact with people +whose acquaintance was to be desired,--the lairds and gentlemen farmers +of the north. + +It was to his sister oftener than to his son that all this was said; and +listening to him, Miss Jean could not but wonder what had become of the +sense and judgment that had guided him through all his life till now. + +"When you are dead and gone, and George has a son of his ain, he'll get +willingly in the countryside what you are so anxious for him to take +now. It would bring neither the honour nor the pleasure that you are +dreaming about for him, if he were to turn his back upon--the shop--for +that was the foundation o' your fortune, though you are a banker and a +ship-owner now. Let George win his ain way, as his father did before +him; it will be mair to his credit, and mair to his happiness, than any +such change as ye would fain see in his way of life. And he'll be far +safer." + +"A body would think to hear ye, Jean, that I was like to be ashamed o' +the shop, and the makin' o' my ain way in the world; I'm so far from +that, that I seek no other credit or honour in the countryside than what +I have won as a man of business. But it might be different with my +son." + +"Weel, honour and consideration seldom come the sooner for the seeking. +They'll come to George in good time, if he shall deserve them. It's +little honour he would be like to get from men o' sense if he were +content to sit down with what you ha'e won for him, putting himself in +the place that ye ha'e honestly and honourably won for yourself. That +would be for the honour o' neither you nor him, though ye may think it." + +"It was for him I won it. There would be neither pleasure nor profit +for me, at my time o' life, in seekin' any change. But I acknowledge it +would be a pleasure to me to see my son taking his right place in the +countryside. It is no' as if he werena fit for it. Just look at him! +Who is there to compare with him? And he has as good blood in his veins +as the most o' them, when a' is said." + +"He'll get his right place in time, never fear. And he'll get it all +the readier that he's no' in haste about it." + +In the mean time George was in his father's office, setting himself to +the mastering of all details and succeeding therein, in a way that +astonished his father. It was that part of the business that had to do +with shipping interests which he liked best, and which chiefly claimed +his attention at this time. His father acknowledged that he had a clear +head, and a power of application that would stand him in stead either as +merchant or landed proprietor. And the pleasure he had in his son's +companionship, and in his sympathy with his work, went far to keep him +silent as to any change in his present course. + +As for George, he was for the most part silent also, because he was +unwilling by opposition to his father's wishes to put in jeopardy the +new and pleasant relations existing between them. But to his sister and +his aunt he spoke plainly enough. + +If any of them were to have special consideration from their neighbours, +it must be because of his father's life, and what he had accomplished in +it. As for his assuming the position of the young laird of Saughleas +while his father continued the laborious life of a man of business, that +would be only contemptible. If he were to take his own way in life, he +must win the right to do so, and he made no secret of the possibility +that, as the years went on, his way of life might in some respects be +different from his father's. + +He pleased his father in one way. He took great interest in all that +concerned the management of the estate. He was fond of the place as his +home. They agreed in most things which concerned its prosperity and +prospects, and if George was less eager than his father in his desire to +add to its extent, he did not vex him by showing this too plainly. They +differed in opinion about this, and about other things often. But Mr +Dawson put great restraint upon himself at such times, striving to +remember that George had a right as a man to hold his own opinions and +to act upon them though they differed from his. George, on his part, +felt no temptation to fail in the perfect respect he owed to his father, +in his words and in his ways. And so, in course of time, things bade +fair to adjust themselves to the satisfaction of both. + +As was to be supposed, Jean and her aunt looked on with deep interest, +while the father and son were thus happily though warily renewing their +acquaintance, but they said little about it, even to each other. During +the first month after May went away there was much going on at +Saughleas. Emily Corbett, who had come for the wedding, stayed a while, +and Hugh stayed also, though he was strong and well and able for any +thing now. There were young people coming to the house for their +sakes,--Marion Calderwood, who was Emily's chief friend, and the young +Petries, and others; and there were expeditions here and there, and +garden parties at various houses; and Jean's time and thoughts were much +occupied. + +Captain Harefield made one of such parties now and then, but not so +frequently as had been the case last summer. He was a person of more +importance at Blackford House now than he had been then, and though his +sister was not there to take care of him, there were others there ready +and willing to do the work in which it must be confessed she had failed. +He was so good-natured, and so unaccustomed to exert his own will +against any one who assumed the right to guide him, that he was easily +taken possession of. It was agreeable also to be made much of, to be +consulted and included in all arrangements for business or pleasure, so +that he did not find his stay at Blackford House "a bore," as he had +done last summer, and he was less inclined to stray away into other +parts to look for pleasure. + +The less frequently that he came to Saughleas, the more kindly and +frankly he was received by Jean, who liked him very well since he seemed +to have put foolish thoughts out of his head. But he came often enough +to put foolish thoughts into the heads of other people. The young +people who came to the house, watched with interest the Captain's shy +devotion, and Jean's friendly indifference, not quite sure the last was +altogether real. Mrs Seldon, during the weeks of her stay, never +doubted as to his object in coming, and sensible of the importance +attached to having a place in county society and a title in prospect, +she doubted as little as to the result of his devotion, and Mr Dawson, +with a mingling of feelings which he could not easily have analysed, +repeated to himself that "Jean had the ball at her foot, whatever way it +might end." But Miss Jean held fast to her first opinion, that Jean was +safe from any temptation to yield to him, and so was another who had not +had Miss Jean's experience. + +"Oh! Miss Jean, I am the most unfortunate little creature in all +Portie, I think. I'm ay doing or saying something that I shouldna." + +"My dear, ye are worse than unfortunate if that be true. What have ye +been at now?" + +"It was quite true, what I said, only I wish Mr Dawson hadna heard us. +We were speaking about--about Miss Dawson--" + +Marion hesitated. She was not quite sure how Miss Jean herself would +like to hear that the young folk had been discussing her niece and her +affairs so freely. + +"It was only that he heard us. I'm ay vexing Mr Dawson, I think." + +"Are you?" said Miss Jean, smiling. + +"Ay, am I. Don't you mind the apple-tree that was broken, and don't you +mind?" several other circumstances that it vexed the girl to remember. +But Jean herself coming in, the vexation of the moment could not be +discussed and Marion was not sorry. + +It had happened thus. She had come early to Saughleas with the young +Petries intending to set out at once on an expedition that had been +planned to the Castle, but something had delayed several of their party, +and the younger folk were whiling away the time of waiting, chatting and +laughing as they sat on the grass. By and by the well-known dog-cart +passed. + +"Haloo! There is your Englishman, Marion," said Hugh Corbett. "I +wonder he didn't come in. He'll be back again to go with us, unless we +make haste to get away." + +"Well, and why should not he come with us? The more the merrier," said +his sister. + +"And he's no' _my_ Englishman," said Marion with dignity; "and for that +matter ye are only an Englishman yoursel'." + +"Only an Englishman! Just hear her!" said Hugh. + +"And ye're not even an Englishman. You are neither one thing nor the +other," said Grace Petrie laughing. "If ye were to bide a while in +Portie, ye might maybe pass for a Scotchman, however." + +"Oh, indeed! Might I? That's encouraging." + +This was a favourite subject of discussion between these young people, +and much banter passed with regard to the nationality of the Corbetts. + +"But he is no' Marion's Englishman anyway," said Jack Petrie in a +little. "He only falls back on Marion when Miss Dawson's company is no' +to be had." + +"And it's only because Marion saves him the trouble of saying a word. +She is such a chatterbox," said Hugh. "And he'll have to fall back on +her altogether soon, I'm thinking." + +"I'm sure that's no' what our Milly thinks," said Jack. "She says that +Miss Dawson--" + +"Your Milly! She judges other folk by hersel'! Miss Dawson wouldna +look at him," said Marion Calderwood. + +"But she does look at him, whiles," said Grace. + +"But that's because she's no' ay thinkin' about--about the like o' that +Him indeed! He might as well go and ask for one of the young princesses +at once." + +They all laughed and exclaimed. + +"Well, she would be no more above him in one way than Miss Dawson is in +another. A baronet? What o' that? Any body might be a baronet, I +suppose," said Marion. + +"But nothing short of a lord will do for Jean Dawson, ye think. I doubt +she'll bide a whilie," said Jack scornfully. + +"And she can afford to bide a whilie. Miss Dawson is sufficient for +herself," said Marion loftily. "But I don't expect you to understand +me, Jack; and I don't think it is nice for us to be speaking that way +about Miss Dawson." + +"I agree with you," said Emily. + +"So do I," said Hugh. "But I have one question to ask, and only one. +Who of all the gentlemen you have ever seen would you think good enough +or great enough for Miss Dawson." + +"Oh! as to good enough, that is not what Marion means," said Grace. + +"No. Nor great enough," said Emily. "Well--just suitable--worthy of +her, in every way? In mind, body, and estate. Come, let us hear." + +"Yes, come, let us hear." + +"In mind, body, and estate," repeated Emily laughing. "I think enough +has been said already," and Marion rose to go away. "But if ye will +have it--I never saw any body in every respect worthy of Miss Dawson-- +except, perhaps--But yet--" Marion hesitated, and then added,-- + +"I dinna believe there is another in all Scotland like Miss Dawson." + +"I agree--nor in England either," said Hugh. "But I rise to ask a +question--" + +He had risen, but it was evidently with the design of intercepting +Marion, who was moving over the grass intent on getting away. + +"I leave it to the company if we have not a right to hear what is to be +said; and, what is more, you are not going away till you tell us." + +He did not touch her, but he looked quite ready to do it. + +"Nonsense, Hugh! You are not to vex Marion," said his sister; but she +drew near with the rest to listen. + +"`Not one in all Scotland,' she said," repeated Grace laughing. + +"Let us stick to the point," said Hugh. + +Marion reddened and fidgeted, and measured the distance with her eye +with the evident intention of running away, and all this Hugh noted-- +nodding and smiling. + +"Ye canna gar Marion speak, if she's no willin'. I've seen her tried," +said another Petrie. + +"Why shouldna I speak?" said Marion, realising the impossibility of +getting away. "Except that--it's no' a thing to speak about--here. +What I mean is this. But yet if she were to give her whole heart to any +one--he would be the right one--even if--but she would never care for +one who was not worthy. Now let me go." + +"Yes--certainly. Well?" + +Marion had made up her mind to say no more. But when Grace Petrie, +tossing her head and laughing, said that she could guess who the +exception might be, she changed her mind again. + +"Well!" said Hugh, drawing still near as she receded. "`Except, +perhaps,' whom?" + +"I except no one that ever I saw, for there is no one that ever I saw +who, in all things--in mind, body, and estate, as you say--I would think +fit for Miss Dawson. But what I was going to say was--except, perhaps-- +George--only he is her brother, ye ken." + +"George!" echoed, many voices. + +"And what's George more than another?" asked Jack scornfully. "She'll +be saying next, that there's naebody like _him_ in all Scotland." + +And then Marion, glancing up at the window beneath which they had been +sitting, met the wondering look of Mr Dawson. + +"He must have heard every word," said Grace in a whisper. + +Marion turned and fled to seek comfort with Miss Jean. + +They went away to the Castle, and Miss Dawson went with them; Captain +Harefield came to the house soon after they set out, but he did not +follow them, though Mr Dawson suggested that he might easily overtake +them before they reached the place. It was Mr Dawson himself he had +come to see; and when they all came back, and the young folk had had +their tea and were gone home together in the moonlight, her father had +something to say to Jean. + +"It's a comfort that you can just leave it to Jean herself," said his +sister, when he told his news to her. Of what her own opinion might be +she said nothing, nor was she curious to hear what Mr Dawson might +think now about the chance that his daughter had of becoming the wife of +Captain Harefield. "It is a thing that she must decide for herself; and +indeed she will let no one else decide it." + +There was a measure of comfort in that view of the matter. For though +Mr Dawson was ambitious for his daughter, Captain Harefield as a man +with expectations was by no means so interesting to him personally as he +had been last year when he had none. He knew by Jean's face at the +first word spoken, that her aunt was right. + +"I gave him his answer last year," said she. + +"But it's no' an unheard of thing that a woman should change her mind," +said her father dryly. + +"I have had no reason to change my mind, but many reasons against it. +Fancy my leaving you and George and the happy life we are just +beginning, to go away with a stranger to folk that would look down on +me, and think he had thrown himself away?" + +"I could make it worth their while to think otherwise." But Jean shook +her head. "Last year you might, when he had nothing." + +"As for his friends--ye need ha'e little to do with them. I dare say +none o' them can ha'e a higher sense o' their ain importance than his +sister, Mrs Eastwood, and I think ye could hold your own with her." + +"If it were worth my while. But, papa--he is nothing in the world to +me." + +"He is not a clever man, I ken that. But I like him. He is sweet +tempered, and he is a gentleman, and he cares for you. And I think, +with you to stand by him, he might be a good man and a useful." + +"But, papa--the weariness of it, even if I cared for him." + +"But that might come in time." + +"No, papa. I am not--going with him. He will find some one who will +care for him, and who will fill the high position that he can give her +better than I could do." + +In his heart the father did not believe that, but he only said,-- + +"Very likely. You must please yourself I only wish you to ken your ain +mind, and understand what you are refusing. He will be Sir Percy +Harefield, and there may come a time when you will regret your refusal." + +"I don't think it, papa." + +"As for not wishing to leave your brother and me--George will marry +sometime, and then you will be but second with him, though he may be +first with you." + +"Of course he will marry, papa. And I will be `Auntie Jean' to his +bairns. And I'll ay have you, papa." + +"But, Jean, I want you to understand. When George marries it is my +intention to give up Saughleas to him. His wife will be mistress here +then." + +He watched her face as he said this. She was not looking at him, but +out at the window, standing in the full light. She turned to him with a +smile like sunshine on her face. + +"Then I could live with Auntie Jean when you didna need me any more. +`The twa Miss Jean Dawsons!' Wouldna ye like that, Auntie Jean? But, +papa," she added gravely, "it wouldna please George to hear you speak of +giving up Saughleas to him." + +"He need not hear it till the right time comes. There need be no haste. +His choice will be the wiser the longer he waits, let us hope." + +"And you are not vexed with me, papa?" + +"So that you are sure o' yourself. That is the main thing. You might +take longer time to think about it." + +"No, no. A longer time would make no difference. It would not be fair +to Captain Harefield--and I am quite sure of myself." + +Miss Jean, as her manner was, had kept silence during the whole +interview. + +"Her time will come, I dare say, but she is fancy-free at present," said +her father as Jean left the room. + +"She has done wisely this time," said her aunt. "And it is well that +she should wait till her time come." + +"That is well over," said Jean to herself. "And I can wait--yes, though +it be all my life--if so it must be." + +For Jean had found herself out long before this time--before the "John +Seaton" had come home even. She knew that she "cared for" Willie +Calderwood as she could care for no other man. And since that night +when they had clasped hands and looked into each other's eyes she had +not been ashamed of her love. For there had been more than the gladness +of home coming in Willie's eyes, his hand-clasp had told of more than +friendship. + +True he had guarded eyes and hands and voice since then, and he might +keep silence still for years--there was cause enough, Jean acknowledged, +remembering "bonny Elsie." But he "cared for her," and she could wait. +"Patiently? Yes, hopefully, joyfully," she had told herself often, and +now she said it again as she sang softly to herself as she went about +the house. + +But that night her brother came home with a sadder face than usual, for +he had heard sad news, he said. Willie Calderwood had declined the +command of the "John Seaton." He was about to sail as second officer in +one of the great ocean steamships. Indeed he had already sailed, for +his note to George was written at the last moment, he said; and he must +cross the wide Atlantic twice before she should see him again. + +"It is not so bad as a year's voyage to the north," she told herself. +"Portie is his home while his mother is here and Marion." + +But he had spoken no word to her before he went, as he might have done, +if he had been going away to the dangers of the Arctic seas. That was +the pain to her. But she comforted herself. Though she knew his pride +was strong, she thought that his love would prove stronger still, and he +would speak when the right time came. + +But when Willie had crossed the sea twice, and twice again, still he did +not come to Portie. He went instead to London, and there he fell in +with an aunt of his father's who, in years long past, had been the wife +of a London merchant, but who was a childless widow now. She had been +left with a large house and a small income more than thirty years ago, +when she was young and courageous, and she had put aside all the +traditions of the class into which marriage had brought her, and had +fallen back on the belief in which she had been brought up in her home +in the north, that honest work honourably followed was a blessing to be +thankful for, rather than a burden to be borne. + +So her head and her hands and her house were all put to use, and she had +lived a busy and a happy life since then. But she was growing old now, +and her heart longed for her own land and kindred, so when she saw +Willie, and heard of his mother who was a widow, and his young sister +Marion, she begged them to come to her for a while. + +It is doubtful whether Mrs Calderwood would have had the courage to +accept the invitation, if the thought of leaving Portie had not been +already familiar to her; and it is equally doubtful whether she would +have had the courage to go away, if this invitation had not come. It +was for a visit that they were going, she said, but her house was given +up, the few things which she valued and could not take with her, were +safely put away in an empty room in Miss Jean's house. And no one knew +when she might be expected in Portie again. + +Jean had not often seen Mrs Calderwood since the day she had gone to +ask Marion to visit her at the time her sister May was in London, but +she saw her now in her aunt's house, where the last few days of the +mother and daughter were passed, and though they both strove against it, +there was a shadow of embarrassment between them. + +"We'll maybe see May in London, and we'll be sure to see you when you +come to visit her there," Marion said, including both George and Jean in +her words. + +"London is a large place, and Mrs Manners has her own friends," said +Mrs Calderwood. + +"We shall find you out, never fear, and we winna forget you even if you +should live in London all your life." + +Marion laughed and then looked grave. + +"But that can never happen," said she. + +If Jean was grave and silent for a while at this time, no one noticed it +but her aunt, and she did not remark upon it. Indeed she was grave and +a little sad herself for she greatly missed both mother and daughter, +who had been her dear friends and daily visitors for many a year, and +she confessed to a strange feeling of loneliness in her house by the +sea. + +Jean came often to see her and so did George, but she seldom spoke about +the Calderwoods to either of them. Now and then a letter came from +Marion to Jean or to her aunt, but after the very first these letters +said nothing about coming home to Portie again. + +And Jean waited. Not unhappily. Far from that, for her life was a busy +one. She had much to do and much to enjoy in her father's house and +beyond it. She strove to forget herself, and to remember others, and +made no one anxious or curious because of her grave looks and her +sadness. + +She just waited, telling herself that if so it must be, she would do as +her aunt had done, and wait on till the end. + +CHAPTER NINETEEN. + +GEORGE. + +They had three years and more without a break of the happy life to which +Jean had looked forward when her brother came home. The days seemed all +alike in the quiet routine into which they fell; but no one wished for a +change. + +If Mr Dawson had misgivings as to how his son, after his long +wanderings round the world, would settle down into the man of business, +intent chiefly on the work which the day brought to his hand, they were +all put aside after a time. George fell into his place with an ease +which indicated a natural aptitude for the kind of work expected from +him; and during a slight but tedious illness, which kept his father a +few weeks at home, George filled his place in the counting-house with a +success which proved that in all but experience, he was fitted, and +might be trusted to hold it to as good purpose as ever his father had +done. He had the same clear head, and the same directness of purpose in +his dealings with other men; and he had, what his father even in his +youngest days had never had, the natural kindliness of heart and temper +that won good-will without an effort. + +Mr Dawson had always been respected as an honest man,--a man of his +word; but when their fellow townsmen discussed the father and son in +their new relations, as they were not slow to do, it was said of George, +that he was "a true gentleman"; and by this it was meant, that the +temptations which his father, as a man of business had all his life +successfully resisted, the son would never see as temptations at all. +While those who came into business relations with him saw that he would +probably be as successful in the making of money as his father had been; +they also saw that he cared far less for it; and with better +opportunities for knowing, they would also have seen that he spent a +good deal of it in a manner, which, according to his father's judgment, +would bring but poor returns. The poor folk of Portie, the sailors' +widows and orphans, and the "puir auld wivies" of the town, knew about +it, though even they oftener saw Miss Jean's hand in the help that came +from him, than his own. + +"Ane o' Miss Jean's folk," they called him, and so he was, in that he +served the same Master, and loved the service. But he did not offend +nor grieve his father by openly casting in his lot with these people as +his aunt had done. There was not the same need. Miss Jean had found in +communion with the despised little flock in Stott's Lane, the help and +comfort which she had failed to find in the kirk of her fathers. But +times had changed since then. In the kirk of their fathers in Portie as +well as elsewhere there was found in George's day the personal +consecration, the fervour of love, the earnestness of service, which in +the old days had made the folk of Stott's Lane "a peculiar people." +George was content to remain with them, and his aunt had no desire that +he should do otherwise. + +And then he went quietly on his way, unconscious that the eyes of all +Portie were upon him; not just watching for his halting, yet with a +certain movement of expectation to see him fall into his old +light-hearted, careless ways again. He did not begin his new life among +them with any definite plan of work. He had no such faith in his own +strength or wisdom as to make him hopeful as to what he might do for any +one. But this work came to him, as in one way or another work will come +to all who wish to serve. + +It came to him out of the every-day work of his life, which brought him +into contact with ships and sailors, either setting sail, or coming home +after a voyage. He sent away those who were going with a friendly "God +speed," and met those who returned with a kindly greeting, and was frank +and sympathetic with all, because it was his nature to be so; and the +men liked him as every body who came near him had liked him all his +life. And his sympathy and their liking opened the way for the help +which he could give, and which some of these poor fellows needed badly +enough. + +By and by he found himself in the midst of work which had come to his +hands he scarcely could have told how;--certainly not from any impelling +sense of the duty which he owed to this class of his townsmen, and not +consciously from any thought of the service that he owed them for his +Master's sake. One needed his help, and another, and he gave it gladly, +taking pleasure in it, and before he knew it, his hands and his heart +were full. It was in one way humble work enough that he did--speaking a +word of caution to one, laying a restraining hand on another, guiding +another past an evident danger, helping another firmly to withstand the +temptation of strong drink, too often the sailor's strongest and wiliest +foe. + +All this led him at times into dark places, and queer companionships, +where was needed a strong arm as well as a cool head and a persuasive +tongue. For "poor Jack," just off a long voyage with money in his +pockets, was considered fair game in Portie as in other places; and even +in Portie, where dark deeds could not be easily hidden, dark deeds were +sometimes done. Though the influence of the respectable part of the +community could be brought to bear more readily and directly on the +doers of such deeds, than could be the case in larger places, yet direct +interference, either to prevent or to punish, was not always effectual. +"Poor Jack" himself was often as eager as his enemy to resent and resist +such interference, and those who ventured upon it, sometimes fared ill +between them. + +To these poor fellows George gave both time and interest, and not in +vain. In all his dealings with them they were made to feel that it was +not a sense of duty merely, that brought him near them. He understood +them, and liked them and their ways, and was their friend. They +believed in him, and did, to please him, what they would hardly have +been brought to do from higher motives. After a time they trusted him +entirely, as well they might. He loved them. There was nothing that he +would not do to help them--few things that he did not do for some of +them. In the many ways which genuine personal interest can devise, he +befriended them and theirs. In sickness he helped them by helping those +to whom they belonged--which was well, and he put his own hands on them, +which was better,--putting his strength to gentle uses: soothing, +restraining, comforting them, as he never could have done if he had not +loved them, and if they had not had confidence in his love. + +And because he loved them, they were not unwilling to listen to him when +he told them of a "greater love," the love of One who grudged not to +give His life for their sakes. He never told it in many words, and he +did not for a good while try to tell it to any but the sick and the +suffering, as he got a chance for a word with them one by one. But +later, when there were occasions, now and then, for sharp though kindly +words of rebuke where numbers had gathered, words of gentleness were +sure to follow about the love that could keep them in all straits from +yielding unworthily to wrong-doing. And if such occasions grew more +frequent as time went on, it was because of no plan or intention of his. + +Little of all this was known in Portie, except among the men themselves +and their families, and among the ill-doing folk who would fain have +made gain of their folly; but the result was visible enough in the +better lives of some and added comfort of many a home in the place. But +to no one did George's work do more good than to himself. It gave him +an interest in life which business, engaged in conscientiously for the +sake of pleasing his father and making up to him for the disappointment +which the last few years of his life had caused, could never have +supplied. It did more to establish him permanently in Portie, and to +make him content there, than did the partnership into which during the +second year he entered with his father. + +He grew more like his old self, his father said to Miss Jean, giving the +new partnership, and the increased interest and responsibility which it +implied the credit for it. In Miss Jean's eyes, he was as little like +the wilful lad who had given cause for many anxious thoughts in the old +days, as could well be, except that he had the same sunny temper and the +same winning ways, and was well-beloved as he had been in his most +foolish days. Now he was a man to be trusted as well as loved. He was +a graver man than he might ever have become without the discipline of +sorrow through which he had passed, and the remorseful memory of the +worse than wasted years that followed; but his "trouble," as the +suffering and sinning of those years were vaguely called, had not harmed +him. At least good had come out of it all. He was grave, but he was +not gloomy; and though he availed himself less than pleased his father +of the opportunities given for mingling in such society as Portie and +its neighbourhood afforded, he made home a different place to them all. + +These were happy days to Jean. Between her and her brother, as to all +that filled his life and made the future hopeful, there was perfect +confidence and sympathy. She helped him in his work among the sailors +and their wives and families, and among the fishers of the +neighbourhood, by doing many things that only a woman's tact and skill +and will could do, and she helped him even more by the eager sympathy +with which she listened and advised when she could not put her own hand +to the work. + +They were true friends as well as loving brother and sister, and as time +went on, their father began to fear that they might grow too well +content with each other and the life they were living, and so fail of +the higher happiness which he coveted for them, and which was the right +of such as they. + +"There is time enough," said Miss Jean comforting him. + +"Yes. He is young, and he will surely forget," said his father. "And +as for Jean, she is fancy-free." + +To this Miss Jean made no reply. She was not sure of either the one +thing or the other. But she saw that the brother and sister seemed +content, and that they were doing willingly and effectively the work +that fell to their hands, and in her esteem life had nothing better to +give than this. + +"All that you wish for them may come in the natural course of things, +but ye must have patience and no' try to force it," said Miss Jean. +"And in the mean time, ye ha'e ay one o' May's bonny boys to fall back +upon for Saughleas, if that is what is in your mind." + +For they had lately heard of the birth of Mrs Manners' second son, and +much rejoicing had it caused. + +"I wonder ye're no' thinkin' o' going south to see your new grandson. +The change would do you good, and it would be a great pleasure to May." + +"There is nothing to hinder, if Jean will go with me." + +But there was much to hinder Jean it seemed. May had better nursing +than she could give her, and she would much rather make her visit when +her sister should be well and strong and able to go about with her. And +then George had been promising to take her to Paris and perhaps farther, +later in the summer, and they could visit May at the same time. +Besides--she told her father privately she would not go away and leave +her aunt so long alone just at present, for she was never strong in the +spring; and her father could urge her no longer. + +Jean had another reason, of which she could speak to no one, why she did +not wish to leave Portie at this time. She had heard from one of the +young Petries of the hope they had of a visit from Marion Calderwood and +her brother, and Jean would not leave home and lose the chance of seeing +them. + +Willie Calderwood had never been in Portie again, and Jean had never +seen him, since he left it on the morning of her sister's marriage day, +and that was a long time now. She had waited patiently, but she longed +for the time of waiting to be over. She knew now how well she loved +him, and in her heart she believed that he loved her as well. He had +never spoken, he might never speak; but whether he spoke or not, she had +a longing unspeakable, just to see his face and touch his hand again. +She had been quite happy during these two years, she told herself; but +her heart sprang gladly up at the thought that her time of waiting might +be nearly over. She had never spoken his name even to her brother, and +he had been as silent to her, but she sometimes thought that George knew +how they cared for one another, and that he kept silence because he knew +it would not be well to speak. But all the same, Jean would not lose +the chance of seeing Willie again. So, after some consideration, Mr +Dawson set off alone. He reached London late at night and did not go to +his daughter's house until the morning. She lived in a pleasant part of +a pleasant suburb, in a little house which stood in the midst of a tiny +garden, which was enclosed within high walls. They had removed to it +recently, and Mr Dawson had never seen it before. It was a very pretty +place, he thought as he entered--a little confined perhaps, for the high +walls were not very far apart--a little like a prison, he could not but +fancy, as the gate was locked behind him. + +Mr Manners had already gone out for the day, the neat little maid told +him, and Mrs Manners was not down yet, but she would be down presently. +She was well and so was baby. + +But he was not left alone long, and then he had another greeting. He +thought for a moment that it was May who came toward him with +outstretched hand. It was not May. It was a tall, slender, dark-eyed +girl with a blooming face in which there was something familiar. He +knew who it was as soon as he heard her voice. + +"Didna Jean come with you?" A shadow fell on the bright face at his +answer. But it passed in a minute. + +"It is good to see a `kenned face' again. Mrs Manners is very well, +and so is baby--such a darling! Mrs Manners is coming down-stairs +to-day for the first time. She will be down soon," added the girl more +sedately, as if she had got a little check. She was thinking of the +time when she stood before Mr Dawson with the broken branch of the +apple-tree in her hand, and oddly enough, so was he. But the sight of +Marion Calderwood stirred no angry feelings now. That was all past. +The ill that had come to his son through Elsie Calderwood had been +changed to good. The sudden glad remembrance of the son he had left at +home--a man strong, earnest, good--softened his heart and his voice as +he looked on the girl's wistful face, and he smiled kindly as he said,-- + +"England seems to agree with you, my lassie." + +Marion shook her head. + +"But it is no' home," said she. "I like Portie best." Then she took +courage to ask him about the place, and about the folk in it, and the +changes that had taken place since she left. Trifling questions some of +them were, but they were asked so eagerly, and the answers were listened +to with such interest, that he could not but take pleasure in it. +Nobody was forgotten. From Miss Jean herself to poor old Mrs Cairnie, +every body in Portie seemed to be a friend of hers, and all that +concerned them of the deepest interest to her. Mr Dawson had +difficulty in recalling some of the folk she asked about. + +"Ye should come back and renew acquaintance with them all." + +"Oh! wouldna I like it! And maybe I may--some day. We thought Miss +Dawson was coming with you," said Marion with a little change of face +and voice! + +"Jean? yes, I thought that too; but she had some good reasons of her own +for staying at home. Her aunt is not just so strong as she might be, +and she didna like to leave her. She'll come soon, however. She is a +friend of yours, it seems." + +"She was ay good to me," said Marion softly, and there was nothing more +said for a while. + +"But what have I been thinking about all this time?" said Marion +suddenly. + +She left the room and returned almost immediately with a child in her +arms--May's eldest, a beautiful but rather delicate looking boy of a +little more than a year old. + +"This is George Dawson--the precious darling. He is just a little shy +at first, but he is not going to be shy with his own grandpapa, is he, +my pet, my darling, my bonny boy?" And she fell into a soft babble of +fond words, which would have had no meaning to an indifferent listener, +but the grandfather listened, well pleased. The "bonny boy" showed his +shyness by clinging to his nurse, but he looked at his grandfather +bravely enough, and did not resent the cautious advances made to him. +He was persuaded to show all his pretty tricks of action and speech, and +smiled, and cooed, and murmured his baby words; and it would not have +been easy to say whether his nurse or his grandfather was most delighted +at the success of the introduction. + +"And now," said Marion, "I think we may tell grandpapa our secret. And +it will not be long a secret now, will it, my bonny boy? For mamma is +coming down to-day, and all the world must know." + +Then setting the child safely in a corner, she moved a step or two away, +and held out her arms. Then there were more sweet foolish words, and +then the venture was made, and two or three uncertain steps taken, and +the little hero was safe again in her arms. + +Again and again, with a skill and courage that increased as the distance +was lengthened, the journey was made in triumph. Then Marion knelt +down, and steadying the child before her, said softly and firmly,-- + +"Now go to grandpapa." And forgetting his shyness in the glory of +success, away he went with eager, faltering steps, and sprang joyfully +into the old man's arms. The door had opened softly and the young +mother, pale but smiling, stood on the threshold seeing it all. As the +child turned she stooped and held out her arms, and again he crossed the +space between them with quick, uncertain steps; and May kissed her +father with her child in her arms. + +Then, after a whispered word, Marion went out and returned in a little +carrying a tiny bundle with trailing white robes, and presented to Mr +Dawson another grandson. If she had been at all afraid of him at first, +her fear had not outlasted the play with the child, and Mrs Manners saw +with mingled surprise and amusement the good understanding between them, +and the interest her father allowed to appear in the pretty ways and +pleasant words of the girl whom in the old days they had found it best +to keep a little out of his sight. + +He listened to their lamentations about Jean's not coming patiently, and +answered with a good grace, more questions in ten minutes than ever she +had ventured to put to him in as many days. + +"She has wonderfully improved since she left Portie," said he, when +Marion had carried away the baby again. + +"She was ay a bonny lassie," said May. + +She was not going to put him on his guard against the fascinations of +her friend by praising her too earnestly. + +"I like her to be here with me when I cannot go out. She is very nice +with Georgie." + +That was all she said to him, but she told her husband that night, that +Marion, with the help of the "bonny boy," had made a conquest of her +father. + +CHAPTER TWENTY. + +MARION. + +That was but the beginning. Mr Dawson might have had a dull time for +the next few days, since Mr Manners was more than usually engaged, and +Mrs Manners was not permitted to come down-stairs very early. But he +did not. There was the boy, and there was Marion, ready to show one +another off to the best advantage for his admiration and amusement. And +when the boy was carried away by his nurse, Marion still considered +herself responsible for the entertainment of the old gentleman of whom, +since he had showed himself inclined to unbend, she had ceased to be +afraid. + +She read to him, she sang to him, she talked to him about many things-- +about the leaders in the _Times_, the fishing interests, the prospects +of a good harvest. And when other subjects failed there was always +Portie to fall back upon. Her interest in all that pertained to her old +home and its inhabitants was inexhaustible. + +"Oh! we are never at a loss," she told Mrs Manners, when she asked her +how they had got through the day. + +It might have come to that, however, if Mrs Manners had not judiciously +suggested a change. When one morning Mr Dawson said he must go into +the city, his daughter suggested that business and pleasure might be +united for once, and he might take Marion. His business took him to the +Bank of England, and there Marion found her pleasure. For he took her +through all that wonderful place and showed her what was to be seen, to +her great delight. + +Then they threaded their way through the crowds of Cheapside, and came +to the great cathedral which hitherto Marion had only seen in the +distance. It was almost too much in one day, she thought, the Bank of +England and Saint Paul's. But did she not enjoy it? They only meant to +go in to rest for a minute, but hours passed before they came out again. + +Then Mr Dawson took her to lunch at a curious little place near Ludgate +Hill, and then they moved through crowds again along Fleet Street till +they came to Temple Bar and turned into the Temple. + +Oh! the peace and quiet of the place, after the jostling and noise and +confusion of the great thoroughfare! Marion fancied herself walking in +a dream, as they wandered through the silent courts, and listened to the +soft "plash, plash" of the fountain, and then sat down to rest under the +trees of the garden. + +A score of names famous in history and fiction rose to her lips. They +had not said much to one another all the morning. Marion had said only +a word now and then in her delight at the wonderful things she saw, but +as they sat a while to rest and catch the cool air blowing from the +river before they set out for home, her lips were opened, and she talked +a good deal more than she would have been likely to do to Mr Dawson, or +any one else, in other circumstances. + +Foolish talk some of it was, about unreal folk who will still live +forever because of the genius that called them into being. Unknown +names most of them were to her listener; and in another mood and place, +he might have called it all folly or worse. But he listened now with +the pleased interest that one gives to the fancies of a child. And all +she said was not foolish, he acknowledged as she went on. There were +little words now and then, clear and keen and wise, which pleased him +well. + +But nothing that was seen or said that day pleased him so much as this. + +"You have made a day of it together," said Mrs Manners laughing, as she +met them at the door. "You must be tired enough by this time." + +"Yes, I am tired. And no wonder. I think I never had so much pleasure +in one day in all my life before." + +She did not say it to him. He only heard it by chance as she passed up +the stairs. But he said to himself that there should be more such days +for one so easily pleased before he left London. + +And so there were. They saw together pictures and people, parks and +gardens. They went to Richmond and Kew and Hampton Court, and to more +places besides. Mrs Manners went with them sometimes, but their energy +and interest were too much for her, and usually she let them go without +her. And Mr Dawson was fain to acknowledge to himself that he had a +share in the pleasure which he meant to give "the blithe and bonny +lassie" at such times. + +She was "blithe and bonny" at all times, but when he saw her, as often +happened, moving about among the guests that sometimes filled his +daughter's pretty rooms, none more admired and none more worthy of +admiration than she, he owned that she was more than that. + +They were not just well-dressed, well-mannered nobodies that Mrs +Manners entertained. Many of them were men and women who had been heard +of in the world for their worth or their wisdom, or for good work of one +kind or another done by them. And this blithe and bonny lassie, who +enjoyed her play with the child and her sight-seeing with the old man, +was not out of place among them. She was young and a little shy of folk +that seemed great folk to her, and she was very quiet and silent among +them. But many eyes followed her with delight as she moved up and down +among them in her pretty evening dress; and she had words of wisdom +spoken to her now and then as well as the rest, and she could answer +them too, on occasion, as he did not fail to see. + +She sang too, not only the old songs that delighted him, but grand, +grave music, to which they listened who were far wiser about such things +than he. She was a wonder to him at such times, but in the morning she +was just as usual, "bonny and blithe" and easily pleased. + +"Ye mind me whiles of our Jean," said he to her one day, and he could +not but wonder at the sudden brightness that flashed over her face at +the words. Mrs Manners laughed. + +"That is the very utmost that can be said, papa. You cannot go beyond +that. There is no one like. Jean in. Marion's eyes." + +"Am I like her? Maybe I may grow like her, sometime," said the girl +softly. + +All this time May had been keeping a wise silence with regard to her +friend. She believed that he would see all that was good and pleasant +in her all the more readily that they were not pointed out to him; and +so it proved. + +The days passed quickly and happily and came to an end too soon. All +this time Mrs Calderwood had been at the seaside with her old friend, +who had needed the change, and when they returned Marion was called +home. She was glad to go home, but at the same time she acknowledged +herself sorry to leave. + +"For I think I never had so much pleasure all my life before. Only I am +afraid my mother will think I cannot have been much comfort to you." + +"She will be quite mistaken then," said Mrs Manners laughing and +kissing her. "You have been a great comfort to me." + +A great surprise awaited Marion when she reached home. She found her +mother pondering gravely over a letter which she held in her hand, and +the shadow of care did not--as it ought to have done--pass from her face +as her daughter came in. It deepened rather; and in her pre-occupation +she almost forgot to return the girl's greeting. + +"Is any thing wrong, mother? Is it Willie?" + +"No, no. It is a letter I have gotten from Miss Jean." She spoke with +hesitation. Marion looked wistfully at the familiar handwriting of her +old friend. + +"Miss Jean asks you to visit her in Portie. It seems her nephew and +niece are thinking of a journey, but Miss Dawson doubts about leaving +her aunt, who is not strong. Miss Jean thinks she would go if you would +promise to go and stay with her a while." + +"Oh! mother! I should so like it." Marion held out her hand for the +letter, but her mother did not offer it to her; she read bits of it here +and there instead. + +"`I have said nothing about it to Jean, and shall not till I hear from +you. They would likely set off at once if you would promise to let +Marion come to me, and that would please you, though--' + +"`If you decide to let her come, she might travel here with young Mr +Petrie, who, I hear, is soon to be in London. Though I think myself it +might be better for her to come at once, in the company of my brother, +who will not likely stay much longer.'" + +"Oh, mother! I should so like to go. And is that all that Miss Jean +says?" + +"All she says about your visit." + +"You don't wish me to go. Why, mother? It is nae surely that you canna +trust me so far away? I am not more foolish than other girls, am I?" + +Mrs Calderwood looked at her a moment as though she did not understand +what she was saying. Then she laughed and kissed her. + +"Nonsense! dear. You are a sensible lassie and discreet. I would be +sorry to disappoint Miss Jean, though she has friends enough in Portie +one would think. But it is the first favour she has ever asked of me, +and many a one she has done me." + +"But, mother, I think this is a favour to us--to me at least. Oh! it +seems too good to be true." + +"Well, we will think about it." + +"And, mother, if I should go, I would like--wouldn't you? rather to go +with Mr Dawson than with James Petrie." + +Her mother's face clouded again. + +"What ails you at young Mr Petrie?" + +Marion shrugged her shoulders. + +"Oh! nothing. Only I like Mr Dawson better--better than I could have +believed possible. He has been very good to me. I haven't told you +yet. Mother, I think he must have grown a better man since George came +home." + +Her mother said nothing. She did not think well of Mr Dawson. She did +not wish to think well of him. When she had heard from Marion that he +had come to his daughter's house, her first impulse was to recall her at +once. The impossibility of leaving her old friend, or of permitting +Marion to travel alone, prevented her from acting on her first impulse, +and when she had time to consider the matter, she saw that it would be +better for her to remain. It was not likely that Mr Dawson would see +much of her, and whatever he might feel, he would not do otherwise than +treat politely his daughter's guest. + +That he should "begood to her," that he should put himself about, as she +knew he must have done, to give her pleasure surprised her, but it did +not please her. She had forgiven him, she told herself. At least she +bore him no ill-will for the share he and his had had in the trouble of +her life, but she wished to have nothing at all to do with him, either +as friend or foe. + +But Miss Jean's friendship was quite apart from all this. It had been a +refuge to her in times of trouble long before she lost her Elsie, and +this invitation was but another proof of her friendship, and she would +let her daughter go. + +As for her escort--Mrs Calderwood was as averse to accepting James +Petrie as such, as her daughter was, though from a different reason. +But she was equally averse to any appearance of presuming on the +kindness of Mr Dawson. Fortunately the matter was taken out of her +hands. + +Mrs Manners came the next day empowered to plead that Miss Jean's +invitation should be accepted, and when she found that this was not +necessary, she found courage to propose that instead of waiting for any +one, Marion should hasten her preparations and go on at once with her +father. + +Trouble! What possible trouble could it be for her father to sit in the +same railway carriage with the child? As for Jamie Petrie--it was easy +seen what he was after. But it would be quite too great a grace to +grant him at this early stage of--of his plans and projects. Oh! yes. +Of course it was all nonsense, but then-- + +But the nonsense helped to bring Mrs Calderwood to consent that Marion +should go at once. And so it was arranged. + +It would have pleased Mr Dawson to take Marion with him to Saughleas, +but this she modestly but firmly declined, because her mother expected +her to go at once to Miss Jean's house by the sea, and there she was +kindly welcomed. + +It was like getting home again, she said. The sound of the sea soothed +her to sleep, and it woke her in the morning with a voice as familiar as +if she had never been away. She was out, and away over the sands to the +Tangle Stanes, and had renewed acquaintance with half the bairns in +Portie, before Miss Jean was ready for her breakfast. + +The bairns had all grown big, and the streets and lanes, the houses and +shops, had all grown narrow and small, she thought. But the sea had not +changed, nor the sands, nor the far-away hills, nor the sky--which was, +oh! so different from the sky in London. Marion had not changed much, +her friends thought. Some of them said she was bigger and bonnier, but +she was blithe and friendly and "a'e fauld" still--and London hadna +spoiled her as it might very easily have done. At any rate she meant to +enjoy every hour of her stay, and that was the way she began. + +She did not miss Jean either, for George had been called away on +business for a few days and when he returned they were to set out on +their travels. During these few days Marion saw much of her friend. +Jean was graver than she used to be, Marion thought; but she was kind +and friendly, and could be merry too, on occasion. They had much to say +to one another, and they spent hours together in the old familiar +places, in the wood and on the rocks by the sea, and heard one another's +"secrets," which were only secrets in the sense that neither of them +would have been likely to tell them to any one else. + +Marion told her friend all that she had been seeing and doing and +reading, and some things that she had been hoping, since she went away, +and Jean did little more. She told what her brother was doing and the +help she tried to give him, and she told of the life that seemed to be +opening before them. + +Not such a life as they used to plan and dream about for themselves, +when they were young; a quiet, uneventful, busy-life, just like the +lives of other people. Judging from the look on Jean's face it did not +seem a very joyful life to look forward to. Marion regarded her friend +with wistful eyes. + +"No. It will never be that, I am sure--just like the lives of other +people, I mean." + +"And why not? Well, perhaps not altogether. It will be an easier life +than the lives of most people, I suppose. It will not just be a +struggle for bread, as it is for so many. And we can do something for +others who need help, and we need not be tied to one place every day of +the year, as most folk are. And by and by we will be `looked up to,' +and our advice will be asked, and folk will say of us, as they say of my +father, that `they are much respeckit in the countryside.' And by that +time I shall be `auld Miss Jean,' and near done with it all. But it is +a long look till then." + +"But it may be all quite different from that. Many a thing may happen +to change it all." + +"Oh! many things will happen, as you say. May and her bairns will be +coming and going, and the bairns will fit into the places that the years +will leave empty, and George will need a staff like my father, and I +will grow `frail' like Auntie Jean, and sit waiting and looking at the +sea. And ye needna sit lookin' at me with such pitiful e'en, for who is +waiting so happily as she? And yet who will be so glad to go when her +time shall come?" + +Marion said nothing, but turned her eyes seaward with a grave face. +Jean went on. + +"Yes, many things will happen, but it will be just the same thing over +again. The ships will sail away, and there will be long waiting, and +some of them will come home, and some will never come, and the pain will +be as hard to bear as if it had never come to many a sore heart before. +And some folk will be glad, and some will be at least content, and some +will make mistakes and spoil their lives and then just wait on to the +end. Marion, what are you thinking about?" + +"I'm wondering if it is really you who are saying all that. And I am +thinking that is not the way Miss Jean would speak." + +"Oh! Miss Jean! No, she has won safely past all that. But once, long +ago, before she had learned the secret of peaceful and patient waiting, +she might have been afraid of the days. Come, it is growing cold. Let +us go on." + +They rose from the Tangle Stanes where they had been sitting and moved +away, and Jean said,-- + +"And as for you--Are you sure it is to be the grand school after all? +Well, you will come back when the heat and burden of the day is over to +take your rest in Portie. And you will be a stately old lady, a little +worn and sharp perhaps, as is the fate of schoolmistresses; but with +fine manners, and wisdom enough for us all. And the new generation of +Petries will admire you and make much of you--not quite as the Petries +of the present day would like to do," said Jean laughing. "And behold! +there is Master Jamie coming on at a great pace. Shall we let him +overtake us? Or shall we go in and see poor old Tibbie and let him pass +by?" + +They were on their way to Saughleas, where Marion was to pay her first +visit. Miss Jean had gone on already in the pony carriage, but the +girls were walking round by the shore. There was no reason why Marion +should wish to avoid Mr James Petrie, except that she wished no one's +company when she had Jean's, but she was quite willing to go into Mrs +Cairnie's house where she had been several times already. It was a +different looking place from the house to which Miss Jean had taken Mrs +Eastwood long ago. Mrs Cairnie's daughter Annie had returned and was +going to remain, and the place was "weel redd up," and indeed as +pleasant a dwelling, of its kind, as one would wish to see. Poor old +Tibbie had lately met with a sad mishap, which threatened to put an end +to her wanderings, and keep her a prisoner at home for some time to +come. Annie had come home to care for her, with the design of earning +the bread of both, by making gowns and bonnets for such of the sailors' +wives and fisher folk, as were not equal to the making their Sunday best +for themselves. + +But a different lot awaited her. She had gone away with the English +lady "to better herself," it was said; but that was only half the reason +of her going. She went because she feared to be beguiled into marrying +a man whom she loved, but whom she could not respect, because of his +enslavement to one besetting sin. + +The love of strong drink had brought misery to her home, since ever she +could remember. It had driven her brothers away from it and had caused +her father's death and her mother's widowhood, and she shrank with +terror from the thought of living such a life as her mother had lived. +When her lover entreated her, saying, that being his wife she might save +him from his sin, she did not believe it; but she knew that in her love +and her weakness she might yield her will to his, and lose herself +without saving him. So she went away with a sore heart, and when her +mother's accident had made it necessary for her to come home again, she +hardly could tell whether she was glad or sorry to come. + +And the first "kenned face" she saw as she drew near home was the face +of her lover. He did not see her. He had stepped from another carriage +of the train, into the little station a few miles from Portie. Young +George Dawson's hand rested on his shoulder, for the single minute that +he stood there, a very different looking person from the wild lad she +had left years ago. + +"Yon's young Saughleas," she heard one fellow-traveller say to another. +"And yon's Tam Saugster. He's hame again, it seems." + +"I ha'e heard that he has gathered himsel' up wonderfu' this while back. +He is a fine sailor-like lad." + +"Ay. He's his ain man now. And he'll be skipper o' the `John Seaton' +before she sails again if young George Dawson gets his way, and they say +he gets it in most things with his father." + +Then Annie saw the sailor spring back into the carriage again as the +signal was given, and she got a glimpse of George Dawson's kindly face +as they passed, and then she saw nothing for a while for the rush of +tears which she had much ado to hide. + +"The skipper o' the `John Seaton'! Ah! weel, he has forgotten me lang +syne, but that is little matter since he has found himsel'." + +But Tam had not forgotten her, and whatever he might have done at the +time, he did not now resent her refusal to take as her master one who +could not master himself. That very night as she sat in the gloaming +listening to her mother's fretful complaints, and taking counsel with +herself as to how they were to live in the coming days, a familiar step +came to the door, and Tam lifted the latch and came in without waiting +to be bidden. + +All the rest was natural enough and easy. The next time Tam sailed he +was to sail as master of the "John Seaton," and he was to sail a married +man, he said firmly, and what could Annie do but yield and begin her +preparations forthwith. The cottage in which Mrs Cairnie had hitherto +had but a room, was taken, and Tam set himself to making it worthy to be +the home of the woman he loved. + +And a neat and pleasant place it looked when Jean and Marion went in +that day. Into the pretty parlour the bride that was to be looked +shyly, scarcely venturing to follow them. + +It was Marion who displayed to Jean the various pretty and useful things +already gathered. + +On the mantel-piece was a handsome clock, and over it the picture of a +ship with all her canvas spread, sailing over smooth seas, in the full +light of the sun of an Arctic summer day. There was a low rocky shore +in sight, and the gleam of icy peaks in the distance; but the ship with +the sunshine on the spreading sails was the point of interest in the +picture--and a pleasant picture it was for the eyes of a sailor's wife +to rest upon. They were both Mr George Dawson's gift to the bride, +Marion told Jean. Jean nodded and smiled. + +"Yes, I know," said she. + +"Miss Dawson," said Annie taking one step over the threshold where she +had been standing all the time. "It is all your brother's work, and you +must let me say to you what I canna say to him. Though he had done no +more good in the world, it was worth his while to live, to help in the +saving such a lad as Tam Saugster." + +"They helped one another," said Jean softly. + +"Ay. That I can easily believe. There are few men like Tam when ance +ye ken him." + +"And Jean thinks there are few like George," said Marion smiling, as +they came away. + +"And isna that what you think of your brother?" said Jean. + +"Oh! yes; and with good reason," Marion said; and the rest of their talk +was of their brothers, till they came to the gate of Saughleas. + +CHAPTER TWENTY ONE. + +A MEETING. + +Mr Dawson and Miss Jean were sitting on the terrace by the parlour +window as they went in. Jean knew by many signs that her father and +Marion had come to be very good friends, and she was prepared to see him +give her a warm and kindly welcome. But she was a little surprised at +the ease and pleasure with which Marion met him. She did not turn away +after a shy brief greeting, as the young people who came there were +rather apt to do, but smiled brightly and answered merrily when he asked +her whether she had enjoyed all that she had expected to enjoy when she +came to Portie. And then she sat down on the grass at Miss Jean's feet, +and looked round with a sigh of satisfaction at "the bonny place." + +"What kept you on the way?" asked Miss Jean. "Oh! we came round by the +shore," said her niece, "and we sat a while at the Tangle Stanes, and +then we went in to see Mrs Cairnie--and by the by--we didna see her +after all." + +"She was sleeping," said Marion. + +"And we were admiring the fine things that Captain Saugster has been +gathering for his bride," said Jean. + +"That would hardly have kept you long," said Mr Dawson. "A few chairs +and a table, and a bed and blankets, and some dishes." + +"But we saw more than that; didna we, Marion?" + +"Yes. Even Annie herself wasna thinking of chairs and tables and +dishes. It was of the new home that is to be there, we were thinking, +and it never might have been, if--Jean, tell them what Annie said." + +"Tell it yourself," said Jean. + +"I canna just mind all," said Marion with hesitation. "But it was to +Mr George Dawson that they owed it all--their happiness, I mean--and +that it was a grand thing to have a hand in saving such a lad as Tam." + +"She thinks muckle o' Tam, it seems," said Mr Dawson laughing. "And he +is a good sailor, if he can only keep hold o' himsel' where the drink is +concerned." + +"His Master will keep hold of him, I trust," said Miss Jean. + +"And is he to sail the `John Seaton,' papa?" asked Jean. + +"That is what George says. There is a risk, but we'll take it, and Tam +will be none the less safe for the responsibility, let us hope." + +"Annie is proud and glad, and so are all the Saugsters," said Marion. + +"But the proudest and gladdest of all must be--George." + +"Ay, even the angels are glad over a sinner repenting," said Miss Jean. + +Mr Dawson looked from one to the other. + +"Saved, is he! And George did it? But Tam has hardly been tried yet." + +"Oh! yes. He is surely to be trusted now. Three whole years since he +has touched a glass. Yes, nearly three years Annie told me once--and I +think she wouldna be vexed at my telling you, because--George belongs to +you," said Marion, turning a soft bright glance on Mr Dawson. She rose +in her eagerness, and stood before them, and with softened voice and +changing colour told the story of one dark night on board the "John +Seaton," when some kind word of George's had touched a sore spot in poor +Tam Saugster's remorseful heart, and had opened his lips to utter all +his shame and sorrow over a life worse than wasted. The very first +thought of hope that had come to Tam since Annie forsook him, came when +George laughed at him for saying that his life was nearly over. He was +but a lad yet, and his life was before him, and the way was to let the +past be past, and begin again with better help than he had asked for +yet. And Tam was not ashamed to say that his tears had fallen fast into +the sea as he listened, and if he had been his own brother, George could +not have been more patient with him, or have done more for him than he +had done. "And I think," added Marion, turning her shining eyes on the +old man, "that George must be even happier than his friend." + +She paused suddenly, turning a startled look to Miss Jean, who had +gently touched her hand. Jean was looking at her father with a smile +upon her lips, but he was looking away to the sea. + +"Shouldna I have said it? Was it wrong? Tell me what you are thinking +about, Miss Jean," said Marion in dismay. + +"I'm thinking the wind has been making free with your hair, my lassie, +and it is near tea-time." + +Jean kissed her laughing. + +"Come with me and put your hair in order, as auntie says. No, never +mind. There is nothing to look grave about. It was only that my aunt +was surprised to hear any body say so many words to my father, and about +George too. Oh! yes, he liked it, you may be sure. I'm glad that he +heard it anyway." + +"But I'm afraid that Miss Jean must have thought me--forward," said +Marion, hesitating over the hateful word. + +"Nonsense, you are not a child any longer. And she was as well pleased +as I am that my father should hear it all." + +It was Mr Dawson who broke the silence that fell on them when the girls +went away. + +"She is an outspoken lassie yon." + +"Ye canna judge her as ye might any o' the common sort," said Miss Jean +shortly. + +"I'm no' seeking to judge her. She seems a nice lassie enough. I like +her frank, free way." + +"She's but a bairn--though she is the height of our Jean, and coming on +to womanhood," said Miss Jean with a sigh. + +"Ay. She is a weel grown lassie," said Mr Dawson, rising, and then he +went away and moved up and down the walks, pausing at shrub or tree, or +flower bed, as his manner was when he was at leisure, and he only +returned in time to give Miss Jean his arm when they were called into +the house. + +That evening they were so fortunate as to have the company of James +Petrie and his sisters, and several other young people, among whom was +Mr Charles Scott, to whom the eldest Miss Petrie was engaged. The +young people enjoyed themselves, but Marion was not able to forget the +touch of Miss Jean's fingers upon her arm, and she was rather grave and +silent, the others thought. They had music, in which she took her part, +singing a song or two, and then Miss Petrie played her masterpiece, a +very grand piece indeed, in the midst of which Mr Dawson went out to +the little gate to wait for his son. + +He had gone there many times since that first night of his son's coming +home. He did not always wait till he came in sight. He moved away +sometimes, as his footsteps drew near, slow to acknowledge to himself, +or to let his son see how much his home coming meant to him. But +to-night he waited. + +"There are young folk at the house to-night," said he, as though giving +a reason for being in the garden at that hour. + +"The Petries are there, and young Scott, who seems to be one of them. +And your aunt is over and her visitor. Will you go and see them?" + +"Oh! yes, surely; only I would need to go upstairs first. Jamie Petrie! +What brings him here? I thought that was over," said George with a +laugh. + +"Is it Jean you mean?" said Mr Dawson gravely. "But it's no' Jean the +nicht." + +Very evidently it was not Jean, Mr Dawson thought when he went in +again. Young Mr Petrie had eyes for only one, and that was Marion, +who, sitting at Miss Jean's side, seemed busy with a piece of worsted +work. Mr Petrie was talking eagerly and confidentially, as though he +had a right as well as a pleasure in doing so. + +"He has put Jean out of his head soon enough," said Mr Dawson to +himself, by way of accounting for the uncomfortable feeling of which he +was conscious at the sight. + +"Are we to have no more music? Will you not give us another song, Miss +Petrie?" said he. + +Certainly Miss Petrie would give him more than one, but Marion +Calderwood must come with her--not to sing, but to turn her music for +her, a task to which Mr Scott was not quite equal. And so it happened +that Marion was standing gravely at her side, in the full light of the +lamp, when George came to the door of the room. He stood for a moment, +with his eyes, full of wonder and pain, on the fair thoughtful face of +the girl, and his father saw him grow white as he gazed. + +"He hasna forgotten," thought he with a sudden, sharp pang of regret and +anger. + +Would the memory of the dead girl ever stand between him and his son? +He had not thought Marion like her sister; but as he saw her now, +standing so still with a face of unwonted gravity, there came a vivid +remembrance of the young girl who in his hearing had said so quietly and +firmly to her mother,-- + +"He will never forget me, and I will never give him up." + +"She should never have been brought here. What could Jean have been +thinking about? What could I have been thinking about myself?" + +When he looked again George was gone. When, however, he came into the +dining-room, where they were all assembled later, he appeared just as +usual, and greeted the young people merrily enough. But Mr Dawson +forgot to notice him particularly, so startled was he by the sudden +brightness of Marion's face at the sight of him. George did not see her +at first--at least he did not seem to see her, and she stood beside Miss +Jean's chair, her smile growing a little wistful as she waited for his +coming. Miss Jean looked grave as she watched her. + +"George," said his sister, laying her hand on Marion's and drawing her +forward, "George, who is this? Have you forgotten our wee Maysie?" + +No, that was not likely, he said; but he could scarcely have been more +ceremoniously polite in his greeting had she been a strange young lady +from London, and not the Marion whom he had petted and played with as a +child. He lingered a moment beside her, asking about her mother, and if +there had been any news from her brother, and then he went to his place +at the table, and made himself busy with his duty there. + +Something was said about the anticipated trip to the continent, and the +time of setting out George had intended to leave at once if his sister +were ready, but he found he must stay in Portie a few days longer. + +"But next week, Jean, we must go, or give it up altogether." + +"The sooner you go now, the better, or the best season will be over," +said Mr Petrie. + +"Oh! as to that, any season is good for what we mean to do." + +"Still, the sooner the better. Could not I do what would be necessary +to let you go at once?" said his father. + +George laughed and shook his head. + +"I am afraid not. It seems I stand pledged to be best man at Captain +Saugster's marriage, and he has no idea of putting off the happy day for +a month or more--since his time may be short. So he is to hasten it on +instead, and I must wait and see him through it." + +"That will hardly be fair on Annie," said Miss Jean. + +"Oh! she is ready, I dare say; and she can finish her preparations +afterwards," said Miss Petrie. + +"And it is to be very quiet. Indeed, hardly a wedding at all in the +usual sense," said George. + +"But that is rather mean of Tam, I think," said Mr Petrie. "He ought +to give a dance on board the `John Seaton,' if he is to have the command +of her." + +His sisters were charmed with the idea. And would not Mr George put +the thought into Tam's head? + +"The `John Seaton' is not in yet. He would hardly consent to wait for +that," said Mr Scott. + +"Don't you call it a risk, giving a man like Tam Saugster the command of +a vessel like the `John Seaton'?" + +Mr Petrie asked the question not at George, but at his father. + +"There is ay a risk of one kind or another about all seafaring matters," +said Mr Dawson quietly. + +"But there ought to be a fine wedding. Tam is quite a credit to the +town now. We could all go to the dance," said Miss Annie Petrie. + +"But I am afraid Tam would not long be a credit to the town if the +whiskey were to flow as freely as it usually does at sailors' weddings. +That could hardly be dispensed with, the whiskey, I mean. It would test +Tam's principles at any rate, in which I cannot say I have very great +faith," said James with a little sneer. + +"I think keeping out of the way of temptation might be a better proof of +his wisdom," said Mr Dawson coldly. "I doubt, Jean, your aunt is +getting wearied. She should be allowed to go." + +But Jean had long ago sent word to Nannie that her mistress was to stay +at Saughleas for the night. The young people did not linger much +longer. George went out with them to the gate, and did not return till +the rest had gone upstairs. Nor did they see him in the morning. He +had taken an early breakfast and gone away long before any one was down. + +On each of the three days that passed before Jean and her brother went +away, George went to his aunt's house as was his daily custom; but he +scarcely saw Marion. The first day she had gone out, the next his +father was with him, and the third time there were several of Marion's +young companions with her, so that no word passed between them till the +day of Tam Saugster's marriage. + +"If marriage it could be called," said some of Tam's indignant friends, +"going off on the sly as gin he were ashamed o' himsel'." + +They were by no means ashamed of themselves. Tam and Annie went quietly +to the manse with Tam's father and mother, where Miss Dawson and her +brother and Marion Calderwood and Maggie and Robbie Saugster were +waiting for them, and they "got it putten ower quaietly," as Tam's +father rather discontentedly said. His judgment doubtless approved of +"a teetotal" marriage in Tam's case, but neither his taste nor his sense +of the fitness of things was satisfied. Who had a better right to feast +their friends and "fill them fou" on such an occasion than the +Saugsters? And to go back to Tam's house just to tea and jelly and +fushionless sweet cakes!--It might be prudent, but it wasna pleasant, +and any thing but creditable, in his father's opinion. + +And while he grumbled secretly the bride's mother, poor Mrs Cairnie, +openly resented and railed at the manner of the marriage as mean, and as +a confession of most shameful weakness on Tam's part. Even shrewd and +sensible Mrs Saugster, though joyful over her returned prodigal and +thankful to escape the risks attending a marriage as usually ordered in +their rank of life, even she did not think it wrong to connive at the +brewing of a steaming bowl of "toddy" for the comforting of the old +folks when Tam and his wife had set out on their week of pleasure, and +all the rest of the young folk were gone away. + +It was a "bonny nicht," Jean said, as they lingered in their walk down +the street. Over the soft glow of sunset fading in the west hung the +pale new moon, and a star showed here and there among the grey wreaths +and flakes of cloud that floated far beneath the blue. The tide was +out, and over the sands came the soft "lap, lap" of tiny waves, with a +sound more restful than silence. They stood still a minute at the point +where they were to turn into the High-street. + +"We may as well go home the long way. It is not late yet," said Jean. + +"Going home the long way," meant turning back, and going over the sands, +the mile that lay between the town and the Tangle Stanes, and they +turned with one accord. + +"It is our last night for a while," said Jean, and scarcely another word +was spoken till they found themselves climbing the broken path that led +to the High Rocks. The night air blew cool from the sea, and Jean led +the way to the sheltered seat a little further down. The two girls sat +down together, and George stood above them with folded arms, looking out +upon the sea. + +They spoke about "the happy couple," who had gone away to begin their +new life together, about Tam's long voyage and Annie's hopeful waiting, +and the chances they had of happiness, because they loved one another. +And then they went on to other things, some of them glad, and some of +them sad, and "do you mind that time?" and "have you forgotten this?" +they said, and sometimes they sighed, and sometimes they smiled, and at +last they fell into silence. By and by Jean rose and moving upward, +paced up and down the narrow ledge, as she had done so many a time +before in so many a mood. The two who remained were silent still, busy +with their own thoughts, till George, stooping down and speaking softly, +said. + +"Marion, do you mind one day coming here with--Elsie and me?" + +"Ay, George, I mind it well." + +Marion turned, and took in both hers the hand that he held out to her. + +"Poor George!" said she, drooping her head till her cheek just touched +it. Then she rose and stood beside him still holding his hand. George +stood with his face turned away, and neither spoke or moved for a good +while. + +"George, do I mind you of her? Does it grieve you to see me?" + +George turned and met the look in her sweet wistful eyes. + +"You mind me of her, but it does not grieve me to see you--my dear +little sister." + +And then George did an unwise thing. He clasped and kissed her, and +held her to him, "as I might have clasped and kissed my own sister," he +said to himself afterward, trying to still the voice that said it was +not wise. + +And Marion went home smiling in the darkness, and saying to herself,-- + +"Now I have two brothers, and which of them I love best; I'm sure I +canna say." + +So George and Jean set out on their travels next day, and Miss Jean and +her visitor were left to entertain one another, and they did not find it +a difficult thing to do. Miss Jean had lived too much alone, to care +even for pleasant company continually, and Marion had friends and +engagements enough to call her away, so as to leave her to her solitude +for a while each day. And whether she was out with her friends, or at +home with Miss Jean, she was happy as the day was long. + +They had many quiet hours together, when the wisdom which had come to +the elder woman out of her sore troubles and solitary days which God had +blessed, and out of willing service given to the needy and the suffering +for His sake, was spoken for the good of the girl who had all her +troubles and her solitary days before her. These were the hours that +afterwards Marion liked best to remember. + +It seemed a very happy world to her in those days. Nothing evil or sad +seemed possible to her in her young strength and hopefulness. And even +trouble itself, sickness or pain or disappointment, if it brought to her +what had come through all these to Miss Jean--a heart at peace, a +heavenly hope, surely even of these things she need not be afraid. When +she said something like this to Miss Jean, her old friend smiled and +answered,-- + +"Surely not. Even when you feel the pain you needna fear the evil. And +when the pain hurts most--is worst to bear, I mean--it doesna really +harm. Why should I fear for you?" + +"And do you fear for me more than for the rest?" said Marion gravely. + +"I ought to fear less for you than for some, because I hope ye're one +who winna lose the good which is meant to come out of all trouble. But +ye're young and bonny and winsome, and whiles troubles come to such that +pass others by; and a heart both strong and tender, such troubles hurt +sore. But the sorer the pain the deeper and sweeter the peace, if it +sends you to the feet of the Master," added Miss Jean cheerfully. + +There was silence for a little while, and Miss Jean looked up with +surprise at Marion's first words. + +"Am I bonny, Miss Jean? As bonny as our Elsie was?" + +Miss Jean looked at her a moment without speaking. Elsie Calderwood had +indeed been a bonny lassie, but looking at her sister, Miss Jean could +not but acknowledge that she was far more than that. She was like her +sister. She had the same sweet eyes and lovely colour, the same wealth +of shining hair. But in the face before her Miss Jean's discerning eye +saw a beauty beyond that of mere form and colouring. It might have come +to Elsie too, with cultivation, and a higher intelligence, and the +wisdom that experience brings. But Miss Jean, remembering well the girl +who was dead, saw in her living sister's face a beauty that had never +been in Elsie's. + +"Does your mother think ye're like your sister?" said she, evading the +question. + +"My mother hardly ever speaks about my sister. But once--some one +said--that I minded him of her." + +As she spoke, a feint, sweet colour overspread her face. Her eyes did +not fall before the grave eyes of her old friend, but there came into +them a soft, bright gleam, "like a glint o' sunshine on the sea," Miss +Jean told herself as she gazed. + +"Ay, ye're like her. I think them that mind her weel would say that +ye're like her." + +Marion's head drooped and rested on her hand. + +"Whiles I wonder how it would have seemed if Elsie hadna died." + +"It was a mysterious Providence indeed, her early death. The living +should lay it to heart," said Miss Jean; and then she took up the book +that lay at her hand--a sign that no more was to be said at that time. + +CHAPTER TWENTY TWO. + +YOUNG MR PETRIE. + +That night Mr Dawson came to invite them to pass a few days at +Saughleas. He "wearied" there alone in the mornings and the long +evenings, and there was no good reason why he should be alone, when they +could come to visit him without leaving any one but Nannie to miss them. +Nannie putting in her word, said she would not object to being left +since the change would be good for them both. + +"And as Mrs Petrie asked you for a few days, Marion, my dear, if you +like you can go there instead." + +"Oh! Miss Jean! If you please?" + +Marion's face fell so decidedly that Mr Dawson laughed and insisted +that Marion must come also, and Miss Jean had nothing to urge against it +since both were pleased. + +"Mrs Petrie is very kind, but she canna really care very much; and I +see some of them every day," said Marion, fearing to appear ungrateful. + +"Miss Jean will be all the better o' her company when ye're in the +toon," said Nannie privately to Mr Dawson. "And as to thae Petrie's-- +we ha'e eneuch o' some o' them at a' conscience;" which was Marion's +opinion also. + +The days passed happily at Saughleas. Marion enjoyed the garden and the +woods and fields, and every growing thing in them, as only they who have +been long shut up in a dull house in a dull city street can do, and her +delight in all that Saughleas had to offer was pleasant to see. Mr +Dawson went to the town every day, but some days he did not stay there +long, and Marion and he grew as friendly among the flowers and fields, +as they had been among the wonderful sights of London during the first +days of their acquaintance. The shyness which old associations had +brought back since she came to Portie, passed quite away, and the +frankness which had been her chief charm to the old man returned, and +they took pleasure in each other's company. + +"I'm going over to the brae to see a fine new plough that Mr Maclean +has got. Have ye a mind for a walk, my lassie?" said Mr Dawson as they +met one afternoon in the kitchen garden behind the house. + +Marion had been longing for a walk and was delighted to go. There was a +cold wind blowing from the sea, and she went to the house for a shawl, +but came back in a minute with a clouded face. + +"The Petrie's--at least young Mr Petrie is at the gate," said she. + +"And ye would rather bide at home? Weel--" + +"Oh! no! But if I go in for the shawl he will see me; and it is not so +very cold." + +"I doubt ye may find it some cold on the hill, but run ye away through +the wood, and I'll ask Phemie for a wrap of some kind." + +"And it winna be rude?--to Miss Jean, I mean--I'm no' caring for Jamie +Petrie." + +Mr Dawson laughed. + +"He'll think the mair o' your company when ye come back," said he. + +It was a successful afternoon on the whole. They walked quickly at +first through the fields, but when they got over the hill, they took it +leisurely. Then Mr Dawson said a word about young Mr Petrie's +disappointment, and Marion looked grave. + +"He is very kind--they are all very kind, and I am afraid you will think +me ungrateful. Oh! yes, I like him well enough, but it was only the +other night that he was at Miss Jean's--" + +"And I dare say he will come back again." + +"Oh! yes, I dare say he will. Oh! I like him well enough, but I get +tired of him whiles." + +"Well, never think about it." + +"I'm no' caring for _him_. But I hope Miss Jean winna be ill-pleased." + +"She needna ken that ye saw him," said Mr Dawson much amused. + +Marion shook her head. + +"I doubt I'll need to tell her." + +"Nonsense! It was my fault. Ye would ha'e stayed if I had bidden you." + +"Yes, that is true. And Miss Jean must see that I would far rather +please you than Jamie Petrie." + +"That's as may be, but for once in a way you may be excused." + +Though they were away for a long time, they found Mr Petrie sitting +with Miss Jean when they returned. + +"Come awa'," said Miss Jean. "Where have ye been? and what can have +keepit ye sae lang? Mr James and I have been wearyin' for our tea." + +"Oh! well, ye'll enjoy it all the mair for that, and so will we," said +Mr Dawson. + +Marion went away to arrange her hair which the wind had blown about, and +when she returned Mr Dawson was asking Mr James what news the +afternoon's post had brought. But Mr James had left before the post +came in. + +"Then you must have been here a good while. It is a pity that ye hadna +been in time to go with us. We went over to the brae to see the new +plough that the farmer has gotten. Miss Marion explained the philosophy +of the thing to us." + +"Miss Marion is in some danger of becoming a learned woman, I hear," +said Mr James, with an uncomfortable smile on his lips. + +"In danger? Oh! weel, I dare say ye're right. I'm no' sure but there +is danger in it. I canna say that I think very learned women are best +fitted for the kind o' work that most commonly falls to a woman's hand." + +"But for the work of a schoolmistress," said Marion eagerly. "I am +going to be a schoolmistress,--not a governess, not a teacher in a +school merely, but the mistress of a school." + +"You mean if you cannot do better," said Mr Petrie. "Better? But that +is what I have been thinking about all my life. My plans are all laid-- +only--" + +"But then you could just let them all drop, if any thing _better_ should +present itself, as James says. But what are your plans? if it be fair +to ask," said Mr Dawson. Marion did not laugh, but answered gravely, +"First I must make `a learned woman' of myself, and that will take a +good while. I used to think I would have a young ladies' school, but I +have changed my mind. Young ladies are troublesome, and I think I would +prefer to teach boys." + +Mr James whistled. Mr Dawson said, "Well, and what would you teach +them?" + +"Whatever they needed to learn. I can hardly tell yet about it. But +Mrs Manners has promised me her boys." + +"She is to lose no time it seems," said Miss Jean smiling. + +"Oh! but you forget, I have to educate myself first. I am afraid I +should have to be a great deal older before people would trust their +boys to me. But that is what I mean to do." Marion spoke gravely. + +"And ye'll do it too, if you set yourself to do it," said Mr Dawson. + +"And she could hardly set herself to a better work," said Miss Jean. + +But Mr Petrie by no means agreed with them, and expressed himself to +that effect with sufficient decision. He ridiculed the idea, and being +very much in earnest, he was not so guarded as he might have been, and +allowed a tone of contempt to mingle with the banter which he meant to +be playful, and at the same time severe. Marion answered lightly +enough, and was in no danger of being angry as Miss Jean feared, and as, +after a time, Mr James hoped she might be. The necessity of making his +peace with her would have pleased the young man better, than her +laughing indifference to his opinions, or to his manner of expressing +them. But she was so friendly in her manner, and so willing to oblige +him by singing his favourite songs when Miss Jean sent her to the piano, +that he had no excuse for returning to the subject again. + +His errand, he told them when he rose to go, was to ask Miss Marion to +join his sisters and some of their friends in walking to the Castle the +next day, and after an inquiring glance at Miss Jean the invitation was +accepted with sufficient readiness. + +"And if the day should not be fine, it is understood that you will spend +it with my sisters, and the Castle can wait till fair weather." + +To this also Marion assented with a good grace, and the young man went +away assuring himself that he ought to be content. He might have been +less so, had he seen the shrug of her pretty shoulders, and heard her +voice as she said to Miss Jean,-- + +"What should the like of James Petrie ken?" + +When she was gone for the night, Mr Dawson, laughing, told Miss Jean of +the manner of their departure for the brae that afternoon. Miss Jean +looked grave. + +"Ye dinna mean to say that ye think the lassie did any thing out of the +way?" said Mr Dawson. "She said she doubted she would need to tell +you, though I'm sure I canna see why." + +"I wasna thinking about that I was wondering whether after all, I had +done a wise thing in bringing her down here." + +"I have wondered at that myself, whiles, though I acknowledge I had a +part in bringing her. But it depends on what ye brought her for." + +Miss Jean said nothing. + +"If it were to do young Petrie a pleasure, I think ye ha'e nothing to +regret." + +But Miss Jean shook her head. + +"I'm no' so sure o' that," said she. + +"As to how his father may be pleased, that is another matter." + +To this Miss Jean made no answer. + +"And if I mind right, ye once thought Jamie Petrie would ha'e little +temptation to look that way, and little chance of success if he did." + +"That is just what I thought, but I was wrong it seems as to the +temptation. As to the success--I canna say, but--" + +"But why should you be downcast about it?" + +"It is for the lad I am sorry, because I doubt he has disappointment +before him. He should have been content to bide awhile. She is but a +lassie, with no such thoughts in her mind." + +"She looks like a woman." + +"Ay, she does that. But she is but a bairn in some things. She is no' +thinkin' o' him. She doesna even amuse herself with him. He is just +Jamie Petrie to her, and that is all. I'm wae for the lad." + +"His father and mother will be all the better pleased." + +"That may be, but I dinna think it." + +Then Miss Jean told in few words a story to which Mr Dawson listened +with varying feelings,--the story of James Petrie's love and what was +like to come of it. + +He had seen her in London about six months since, Miss Jean said, and +had made his admiration very evident to the mother whose surprise was +great; for like the rest of the world she had given him credit for a +degree of worldly wisdom greater than a serious attachment to a +penniless girl would seem to imply. He made no formal declaration of +his suit, to which indeed Mrs Calderwood would not have listened, as +Marion was in her eyes little more than a child. In her heart she +believed and hoped that his fancy would pass away, or be put by prudent +thoughts out of his head, without a word spoken. + +For she did not want him for her daughter. He was a rich man's son, and +would be a rich man himself one day. By years of steady attention to +business, and by exemplary conduct generally, he had proved himself +worthy of a certain confidence and respect. But whatever other people +might think of him, he was not in the opinion of Mrs Calderwood worthy +to have as his wife her beautiful and intelligent Marion, and she +determined that he should not speak if she could prevent him. + +Marion was pleased when he came, and liked him as she liked all the rest +of the folk of Portie, who had been kind to her all her life, liking +them all the more that she had left them, and saw little of them. Her +mother feared that, flattered by his admiration, she might fancy it was +more than liking that she felt for him, and that should he ask her to +become his wife, she might accept him, and repent it all her life as +many another woman has done. She must hear nothing of this till she was +old enough to know her own mind about it, and wise enough to make no +such terrible mistake. + +But by and by, when there came friendly advances from the father and +mother, showing that they were aware of their son's feelings and +intentions, and at least did not disapprove of them, Mrs Calderwood was +much moved. Marion might at feast hope for a kindly welcome among the +Petries. She was not sure that she was right in wishing that nothing +might come of it. + +There was another view to be taken of the matter. Her own health was by +no means firm, and she had no expectation of living many years. Her son +in his profession could hardly hope to give a home to his sister for +years to come, nor could he give her personal care and guardianship +should she be left alone. It was well enough for Marion to talk about +making herself independent by keeping a school. Her mother had given +her every chance to prepare herself for it, if such was to be the work +of her life. But the girl was too young and too pretty to be fit for +any such position for years to come, and the mother's heart shrank from +the thought of the struggle and the weariness that even in the most +favourable circumstances such a life must bring to her child. + +Was it right for her to hesitate when a home among her own people was +opened to her? Might she not live a quiet and happy life, beloved and +safe from the manifold difficulties and dangers that beset even the most +successful women, making their own way in the world? A word of +encouragement from her would make the young man speak, but whether to +give it or withhold it she could not decide. + +In the discomfort of her indecision she sought counsel of Miss Jean. +But what could Miss Jean say but just what she had said to herself, that +it must depend on Marion's own feeling whether such a word should be +spoken. + +Out of this had come Miss Jean's desire to bring Marion to Portie for a +little while. The girl would learn to know the young man with so many +pleasant chances of intercourse, as she never could do in his brief and +infrequent visits to London, and she would also come to a better +understanding of her own feelings with regard to him. It is likely that +Mrs Calderwood understood her motive and intention, though no word +passed between them with regard to it. All this Miss Jean told in as +few words as might be to her brother. "I doubt it hasna answered," +added she. "Such plans seldom answer. But why should you take it to +heart. They maun please themselves," said Mr Dawson impatiently. "I +acknowledge I am surprised that old Petrie should pitch on a penniless +lass for his son. It is nae what I should ha'e expected of him, and I +ken him weel." + +"He didna pitch on her, I doubt it is but making the best of a bad +matter, with him. Mrs Petrie was ay fond o' Marion, and she is a +peacemaker. And James is as determined as his father and not altogether +dependent on him. And the old man has the sense to see that his son +must judge for himself. And any thing is better than dispeace in a +family. And now that he has seen her again, the father likes Marion." + +"And are ye satisfied that such a marriage would be the wisest thing for +her? James Petrie is a good business man, capable and honest. But when +ye ha'e said that, it's a' there is to say. As for her--ye ken best +about her." + +"There are few like her, and there are plenty like him. But if they +loved one another, that would make them equal in a sense, and they might +live happily enough. But she's no' thinkin' about him." + +"But why should you vex yoursel' about it." + +"I doubt I was wrong to bring her. And I'm sorry for the young man." + +"Oh! as to that, he'll win over it, as he has done before. There is no +fear." + +But Miss Jean still looked grave and troubled. "That was different. +Our Jean was the most beautiful woman and the best match in the town, +and no doubt he believed that he was in love with her, but this is +different; and it will do him harm, I fear." + +"Well, I canna see that you are needing to make yourself responsible for +Jamie Petrie's well-being, if that is all." + +But that was not all. Miss Jean had anxious thoughts about others +besides James Petrie. Her anxiety she could not share with her brother +however, and she said no more. + +Nor was Mr Dawson more inclined to carry on the conversation. The pain +of past years was sharply stirring within him, though even his sister +did not guess it from his words or his manner. Indeed he hardly knew it +himself, till they fell into silence; but that night his head pressed a +wakeful pillow, and the ghosts of old troubles came back upon him. + +How vividly it came back to him, all that he had suffered in those +nights long ago when he could not sleep for the pain and the anger and +the utter disappointment in his hopes for his son! In those nights he +had sometimes had a doubt whether he had wrought wisely toward the +desired end, but he had never doubted as to the wisdom of that end--till +to-night. + +Was John Petrie, whose judgment when exercised beyond the even routine +of business, he had never highly valued--was John Petrie showing himself +wiser in yielding to the wishes of his son, than he had been in +resisting the wishes of his? + +What an influence for good in a man's life must be the love of such a +girl as Marion Calderwood. Had bonny Elsie been one like her? +Remembering the sweet, calm eyes of the girl so long dead and gone, the +gentle strength, the patient firmness by which she withstood not him +alone, but her own mother whom she loved, rather than break her promise +to the lad who loved her, he could not but doubt whether he had judged +wisely then, and whether he had afterward dealt wisely with his son. + +Ah, well! That was all past now, and good had come out of it to George. +But would he ever forget? Would there ever come to his son's home in +future years one who would be to him all that Mary Keith had been to +him. "He has not forgotten her," he said to himself, remembering his +pale looks when first his eyes fell on Elsie's sister. But he was young +yet, scarce five and twenty, and his life was before him, and all might +be well. At any rate nothing could be changed now. + +He had a troubled, restless night, and the first sight he saw when he +looked out in the early morning was Marion walking up and down among the +flowers. She was walking slowly, with a graver and more thoughtful face +than she was used to wear in his presence. She saw the beautiful things +around her, for she stooped now and then over a flower as she passed, +and touched tenderly the shining leaves as she bent her head beneath the +overhanging branches. But she was evidently thinking of other things, +and paused now and then looking out upon the sea. + +"A strong, fair woman," he said. "She will make a man of James Petrie, +if there's stuff enough in him to work on--which I doubt. If they love +one another--that is the chief thing, as Jean says, and the folk that +ken them both will mostly think that she has done well." + +Miss Jean went in to Portie that day, having her own special work to +attend to there, and it was understood that for this time the visit at +Saughleas was over. + +Marion went to the Castle with the rest, but she did not go with them to +Mr Petrie's house to pass the evening. She came straight to Miss +Jean's, having Mr James Petrie as her escort, and it so happened that +Mr Dawson met them both on their way thither. + +"Something has come to her since morning," he thought as he watched her +approaching. + +She was walking rapidly and steadily, carrying her head high and looking +straight before her, with the air of being occupied with her own +thoughts, rather than with Mr Petrie's eager, smiling talk. + +"I'll hear about it from Jean," said Mr Dawson to himself, with a +feeling of discomfort which he did not care to analyse. + +But he heard nothing from Miss Jean. If she had any thing to tell, it +could not be that which he had at first expected to hear. For young Mr +Petrie, whom he saw as he saw him every day, did not carry himself like +a triumphant lover, neither did he look downcast, as though he had met +with a rebuff. He was just as usual, seemingly content with himself and +with the world generally. + +"I dare say it was but my own imagination," said the old man, wondering +a little that he thought about it at all. + +He did not see Marion the next day when he called at Miss Jean's house, +nor the next, nor for several days, and friendly though they had become, +he still felt a certain disinclination to ask Miss Jean about her. He +caught a glimpse of her on the third morning as he was coming down the +High-street, but she turned toward the shore before he came near. She +had not seen him, he thought. + +When he did see her at last, sitting sedately, her eyes and her hands +occupied with her work in Miss Jean's parlour, the same thought came +into his mind. + +"Something has happened to her. Some one has been saying something to +vex her, whatever it may be. But young lasses are whiles easily vexed." + +The next time that Miss Jean was asked to spend a day at Saughleas, it +rained heavily, and she could not go, and when she was asked again, +Marion was engaged to go somewhere else, and Miss Jean went alone. + +"Oh! ay, she is quite right to please hersel'," said Mr Dawson coldly, +when Miss Jean explained that it was necessary that she should go and +visit Miss Spence that day, because the visit had been put off more than +once before. + +"Miss Spence was a friend of her mother lang syne," said Miss Jean. + +Mr Dawson did not ask, as he had meant to do, what had happened to vex +the girl, though he guessed from Miss Jean's manner, that whatever +happened, it was known to her. + +CHAPTER TWENTY THREE. + +DANGER AND RECONCILIATION. + +It had been arranged that Mrs Manners and her children should return +with George and Jean for a visit, but when the time came it was decided +that it was too late in the season for the northern journey, and in +order to make amends to the sisters for their disappointment, it was +proposed that George should go home alone, and that the sisters should +spend a few weeks together at the seaside. + +Jean hesitated long, before yielding to her sister's entreaties, though +she acknowledged she had no reason for refusing the pleasure, since it +had been proposed by her father, and since her aunt was well, and +nothing had happened to make it necessary to go home. She yielded at +last, however, and George went home without her. + +He did not go alone. He had spent many words in trying to persuade +Willie Calderwood, who had just come to London for a day or two, to go +with him; and at the last moment Willie decided that it was possible for +him to go for a single day, to bring his sister home. It might be long +before he would see her again, for his next voyage was to be a long one. + +In a week he was to sail for Australia, not as commander of the vessel +this time, but if all went well, he had the hope of making his second +voyage as commander of a fine new ship that was to be ready for him by +the time his present engagement came to an end. He had been fortunate, +during one of his Atlantic voyages, in coming under the notice of a +great merchant and ship-owner, who was capable of appreciating his high +qualities as a sailor and as a man. The offer of a ship was made by him +and accepted by Willie, and now he could with certainty look forward to +a successful career in the profession he had chosen. + +They reached Portie only just in time, they were told, for the "John +Seaton" was to sail that very day, and it would have been hard indeed if +Captain Saugster should have missed the sight of his friends. They were +hardly in time for speech. The ship was to sail at noon, and the new +skipper was busy with a thousand things, and had only time for a word, +and a grip of the hand when they went on board. + +They walked about, and lingered here and there, and had something to say +to most of the ship's company as well as to the skipper, and Mr Dawson +grew soft-hearted as he watched the friendly looks that met his son +wherever he turned. George had a word for most of them, a promise to +one, a caution to another, a joke with a third, a kind word to all. + +"Ye're no' to vex yourself about your mother and the bairns, Sandy. +Miss Dawson will see that they are cared for if the sickness should come +again. Donald, man, be thankful that ye're leaving your temptation +behind ye, and that ye're to sail under the temperance flag this time. +Gather strength to withstand your foe, by the time ye come home again. +I suppose we must call ye a man now, Jack. Dinna forget the mother and +grannie. They winna forget you." + +Mr Dawson kept near his son when he could do so without too evidently +appearing to be listening to him, and he heard all with mingled +feelings. George's way had never been his, and it was only a qualified +approval that he had been brought to give to his son's method of dealing +with the men, but he could not but be pleased and proud at the many +tokens of respect and affection with which he was regarded by them all. +Even the strangers among them turned pleased looks to the young man, as +he moved up and down among them. + +"It is a pity but you had come sooner, that you might have had a longer +time on board," said Mr Dawson, as he took his way to Miss Jean's house +in company with the two young men. "Ye might almost take an hour or +two's sail with them and land at F--or C--and be home to-night, or early +in the morning." + +Before twenty-four hours were over he would have given much that he had +not uttered the words. But George and his friend caught at the idea, +and before they went into the house all arrangements for going with +Captain Saugster for a few hours' sail were made. Miss Jean looked +grave when the plan was spoken of, but she said nothing in the hearing +of her brother. + +"Ye winna bide awa' long, and make us anxious," said she. + +They must not stay long, for Willie had but a single day, or at most two +to see all the folk he wanted to see in Portie, and they would be +certainly home early in the morning. There was no time to discuss or +even to consider the matter. Willie had only a word or two with his +sister, but he followed every movement of hers with glad, proud eyes; +and when she went for a moment out of the room, he said softly to Miss +Jean, "She has grown a woman now, our wee Maysie." + +And Miss Jean said as softly and a little sadly, "Ay, has she!" + +Did George's eyes follow her too? His father could not but think so. + +"For the sake of the girl who is dead," he said to himself with a pang. + +Marion's eyes were only for her brother, but she had few words even for +him. They had little time for words. They bade Miss Jean and Marion +"good-bye" in the house. By and by, Mr Dawson saw Marion standing a +little apart from the group of women gathered on the pier, but when he +looked again she was no longer to be seen. He was a little +disappointed. He thought if they had walked up to his sister's house +together, he might have said a word to dispel the cloud of shyness or +vexation that had somehow come between them since the day she had gone +with the Petries to the Castle. + +He would not make much of it, by speaking about it openly, nor could he +bring himself to ask his sister about it. Miss Jean was not easy to +approach on the subject of the Calderwoods. She had never said one word +to anger him at the time when she had thought him hard and unreasonable +with regard to them, and neither had she noticed by word or look the +interest with which he had come to regard her young visitor; and her +silence made it all the more difficult for him to speak. But when he +went in on his way home, as it drew towards gloaming, and found her +sitting alone in her darkening parlour, he asked her why she did not +have lights brought in, and where was her visitor. + +"Marion went over to the Tangle Stanes with the skipper's wife and +Maggie, and I dare say she has gone hame with her. Her troubles are +begun, puir body--Annie Saugster's--I mean." + +"What should ail her? She has just the troubles that ay maun fa' on +sailors' wives." + +"Ay, just that," said Miss Jean. + +"And she kenned them a' beforehand. And what gude could a lassie like +that do her? She has had small experience o' trouble anyway." + +"She has a tender heart--and she shows her sympathy without many words. +And folk like her," said Miss Jean. There was a moment's silence, and +then Mr Dawson said hesitating,-- + +"What ails her this while? Is it only as her brother says, that she is +growing a woman, that she is so quiet? Or has any thing happened to vex +her? I have hardly got a word from her since she left Saughleas. Is it +James Petrie that's to blame?" added he with a laugh. + +Miss Jean regarded him gravely for a minute. + +"Yes, I think it was something he said. I ken it was, for she told me." + +"And did she give him his answer?" + +Miss Jean shook her head. + +"It's no' what ye're thinkin'. That question hasna been asked yet," +said she. "And I doubt he'll need to put it off, for a while. He didna +help his ain cause by what he said, though he meant it for that. He was +telling her about--about George and her sister Elsie." + +Mr Dawson said nothing in the pause which followed. + +"Of course she had heard something,--that they cared for one another,-- +and that George's heart was nearly broken when Elsie died. But she had +never heard of your displeasure, nor of some other things. Though how +he thought it would help him to tell all this to her, I canna tell-- +unless he may be afraid that--But she is to go hame with her brother, it +seems, and I hope that no ill may come o' my bringing her here." + +"Nonsense, Jean! What ill should come of it? And why should you take +the blame of it? It was her mother's doing, sending her here. And if +it should end in her agreeing with James Petrie, ye may be sure she will +be well pleased." + +"I'm no' sure. Though, puir body! she maybe was thinking o' that too." + +"It is to be supposed that she kens her ain mind about it. James Petrie +will be a rich man some day. Doubtless she thinks of that." + +"Less than ye would suppose. But she is not a strong woman, and if any +thing were to happen to her, the lassie would be left alone almost. She +would be safe here among douce, well-doing folk, like the Petries, and +in time she might be content enough." + +"But how should he think to help his cause by--by telling that tale? +And what kens he about it?" + +"He kens just what other folk ken, and guesses something, I dare say. +He thought to help his wishes by letting her ken, that when George +looked kindly at her it was for her sister's sake." + +"George!" repeated Mr Dawson in dismay. Miss Jean had not been +betrayed into saying this, though that was her brother's first thought. + +"Yes. She is like her sister--and he hasna forgotten _her_. But I +think it was chiefly your anger and vexation that he held up to her--as +against his own father's kindness." + +"But George?" repeated Mr Dawson. "Yes. But it is not George I am +thinking about, but Marion. And her mother too. Do ye ken that though +he has ay gone to see Mrs Calderwood whenever he has been in London, +George had never seen her daughter after the time of May's marriage till +he saw her the ither night at Saughleas? That was her mother's will. +What with one thing and another,--his love for her sister, and his +friendship for her brother, and his being lost from hame so long--the +lassie was ay inclined to make a hero of George. And minding on Elsie, +and all she had suffered, the mother grew to have a fear that was +unreasonable, lest Marion should come to care for him beyond what should +be wise. So she kept her out of his sight, and she would never have let +her come north but that she knew George was going away. She may have +had her ain thoughts of young Mr Petrie--as I had myself, since he +showed that he had the sense to see her value." + +It was some time before another word was spoken, then Mr Dawson said,-- + +"I did but what I thought my duty. I did but what her mother was as +keen to do as I was. I tried to prevent my son from doing a foolish +thing. And I dare say she thinks that I killed her sister." + +"No, it is not that. But ye ha'e ay been kind to her, and she thinks +the sight of her must give you pain, and she is not at her ease. And so +she is unhappy, for she has a grateful nature. Well, she will soon be +away now, and whether she'll come back again with young Mr Petrie--I +canna say. He'll hardly have the courage to ask her this time." + +"I wouldna promise. There are few things that seem to him to be beyond +his deserts--though I canna say I'm of his opinion." + +Miss Jean knew that her brother was angry and that he was trying to +restrain himself as he rose to go. + +"A thoughtless word does great ill whiles, but I doubt this has done +most ill to his ain cause, if he but kenned it. And it is a pity--" +added Miss Jean. + +"He'll get through it. It winna be the first time," said Mr Dawson +angrily. + +"Are ye awa'? I think we need hardly expect those lads till morning. +They'll be enjoying the sail this bonny nicht," said Miss Jean. + +"It depends on several things--the light and the tide and the wind. It +was rather a foolish thing to undertake, though it was myself who first +spoke of it. But we needna expect them till we see them." + +And then he went away. He paused a little when he was outside the door, +looking up into the sky, and over the sea, thinking whether he might not +as well wait a while, rather than go home alone. It was not so fine a +night as Miss Jean had supposed, nor as it had promised to be earlier. +There were heavy banks of clouds on the horizon in two directions, and +the moon which showed faintly through a dull haze, had a heavy ring +around her and not very far away--sure token that a storm was near. + +"They ken the signs better than I do. They'll lose no time." + +He lingered still, going as far as the pier head which was not yet quite +deserted; but he turned his face homeward at last. + +"It will be a long night, I doubt!" + +And so it was. Many a look he cast to the sky, which before midnight +grew like lead, showing neither moon nor star. A long and heavy night +it was. Sleeping or waking, it was the same; dark with fears, vague and +unreasonable, which he could not put away--with painful dreams, and +startled wakenings, and longings for the day which came at last--a +dismal day, with a dull grey mist lying low on land and sea, darkening +all things. + +It brightened a little as the morning advanced, but he did not hasten +early to the town. There was no real cause for anxiety he assured +himself, the fog would account for their delay. They would be home +soon. He was not anxious, but he shrank from the thought of the pier +head and all the folk looking out for them and wondering where they were +and when they would be home. And so it was noon before he called at his +sister's door to assure her that there was really no cause for alarm. +The fog would account for the long delay. There might have been danger +to folk not so well acquainted with every nook and headland and current +along the shore, but there could hardly be danger to these two. + +What a long day it was! And when the gloaming began to fall, there was +still no word of them. He went on to Miss Jean's house, and at the door +Marion met him. He got a good look of her face this time. Whatever had +grieved or angered her, was not in her thoughts now. Her eyes asked +eagerly for tidings. + +"No word o' them yet, but they canna be long now," said Mr Dawson +cheerfully. "I have come to ask you for a cup of tea, though I dare say +ye have had yours lang syne. Ye maunna be anxious, my dear. There is +really no cause to fear for them as yet." + +He had been saying this to himself all day, but his heart was growing +sick with anxiety all the same, and though he could hide it from Marion, +he knew that he could not hide it from his sister. + +"We maun just ha'e patience," was all that Miss Jean said. + +Marion prepared the tea herself, and went out and in and did what was to +be done. She made his tea and served him as though she liked to do it, +and his eyes followed her with an interest which for the moment half +beguiled him from the remembrance of his fears. But there was not much +said between them, and by and by he said he would step down to the pier +head and take a look at the weather before it was quite dark. Marion +looked as if she would like to go too, and all the old anxiety was in +her eyes, as she turned them to Miss Jean. + +"My dear lassie," said her old friend, "they are safe in God's hands." + +"Yes, they would be safe there, even if we were never to see them again. +But O, Miss Jean!--" + +"Ay, lassie! Try ye and measure the blessedness o' that knowledge. It +is no' in the power o' evil to harm them, whatever may befall. And, my +dear, we have no reason to doubt that we shall see them again. They may +be in at any moment, as my brother says." + +"I might licht the lamp, mem," said Nannie at the door. + +"There is no haste," said Miss Jean. + +"Only its e'erie like sitting in the dark when folk ha'e anxious +thoughts for company. Though there's no occasion as yet. What's a day +and a nicht! Many a boat has come hame safe eneuch after many days and +nichts. They may be in at any minute, and I maun keep the kettle +boiling, for they'll be baith cauld and hungry." + +Then Nannie retreated to her kitchen, doubtful as to the comfort she +could give since her own fears were so strong. + +Mr Dawson went to the pier head, but he did not linger long, he turned +and wandered up and down the sands in the gathering darkness. The fears +which he had refused to acknowledge during the day, he could no longer +put away from him. The sickness of the heart with which he had slept +and waked so many a night and morning in past years, came back again, +strange yet familiar. Was it never to leave him more? Was the time +coming when the happiness of the last two years would seem to him like a +dream? + +How many fathers had wandered up and down Portie sands, waiting for sons +who had never returned! Who was he that he should escape what so many a +better man had endured? + +But it had not come to that with him yet. Surely God would be merciful +to him, and spare so good a man as George to do His own work in the +world. He was afraid to be angry, afraid to utter the rebellious words +that rose to his lips, lest God should judge him for them. + +"I am losing myself, I think," said he, making a strong effort to +restrain his thoughts. "I may as well go back to Jean, or to the pier +head." + +No, he could not go to the pier head, to listen to words made hopeful +for his hearing,--to see cheerful looks that would grow pitiful as soon +as his face was turned away. And as for Jean-- + +Well, she was doubtless praying for the lad whom she loved scarcely less +than he. But he was not ready for Jean yet Jean had a way of thinking +her prayers answered whatever befell. If George never were to come +home, it would not come into Jean's mind that God had turned a deaf ear +to her cry. She would say that her prayers had doubtless been answered +in a better way than she could see. That had ay been her way all her +life. + +"But as for me--when a time like this comes, I canna be sure. It's like +putting out my hands in the darkness, never knowing that there is aught +to meet their helplessness." + +That had been the way when he saw death drawing near to his dear +children and their dearer mother. No voice had answered, no help had +come. They had gone down to the darkness of the grave, and he had been +left in deeper darkness, never knowing whether the merciful God in whom +Jean trusted had given a thought to him through it all. + +He had gone far by this time, and he turned to avoid meeting some of the +townspeople who were out on the sands waiting for tidings as well as he. +The clouds were lifting, and as he turned he felt the west wind in his +face, and heard a voice say,-- + +"If it has been the fog that has keepit them, they'll soon be in now, +for it will be a clear nicht, and Willie Calderwood kens ilka neuk and +ilka rock on the coast for miles. They'll soon be in now, if the fog is +all that has keepit them." + +"What could ha'e keepit them but the fog?" said a woman's voice. "Ye +speak as if ye werena expectin' them." + +"I'm no' sayin'. Only if it's the fog, they'll soon be in now." + +Mr Dawson moved on lest he should hear more. Of course they would be +home now, since the fog was lifting. What should hinder them? But he +had a bad half hour and more as he moved up and down keeping out of the +way of the groups, whose voices came to him through the darkness. + +As he waited there came to him a sudden clear remembrance of Willie +Calderwood's face when he came that night with tidings of his son. Oh! +the joy of it! Had he not been grateful to God for His goodness then. +Was there any thing which he possessed that he would have grudged as a +thank-offering that night! God did seem near to him then. + +"I had an inkling that night of what Jean may mean when she speaks o' +the blessedness o' them that rest themselves on God." + +But as to grudging! He was not so sure. Even before he saw his son, +had he not been afraid lest, being "a changed man," as his friend had +called him, George might have other aims and other plans of life than he +had for him, and disappoint him after all? True he had hated himself +for the thought, but it had been there that first night. And afterwards +he had looked on with something like anger, as day by day he had seen +him giving ten thoughts to the helping of others in their cares and +their troubles, where he did not give one to the winning the place and +the honour that his father coveted for him among men. + +That had all passed away long ago; not, however, because he had ceased +to grudge, but because, as the father put it, "it had answered well." +George stood higher to-night in the respect and esteem of those who knew +him, than he would have done had his aims and plans and expectations +been those of his father, who saw all things too clearly not to +acknowledge it. + +George was a man among a thousand, he said to himself with a little +movement of exultation, half forgetting his fears, till the wind, as he +turned again, dashed the heavy drops of another shower in his face, and +he saw that the clouds had gathered close again over all the sky. +Unless they had already landed, the fog and the darkness which had kept +them last night might keep them still. How could he bear another night +of such suspense? + +Another night! It might be days and nights, for all that he could tell. +He turned with a sinking heart towards the town again. + +"O! Geordie! Oh! my son!" + +He did not know that he spoke the words aloud, but they were heard, and +a hand was laid on his in the darkness. + +"Miss Jean thinks you should come into the house, for you must be cold +and wet," said Marion Calderwood. "Winna ye come with me, Mr Dawson? +And, dear sir, there has been word of a boat that landed in the gloaming +at C--Only John Fife, who brought the word, hadna heard that there were +any fears for any one, and he came away without asking any questions. +But it is sure to be them. And, Mr Dawson, winna ye come with me to +Miss Jean?" + +He had eaten little all day, and he was weary with his long wanderings +up and down the sands. He scarcely caught the meaning of her words, but +he knew that she was saying something hopeful, and he frankly grasped +the hand she had laid on his. + +"Ay. We'll gang in to Jean," said he. + +He leaned on her strong young arm more heavily than he knew as they drew +near the house. There was light streaming from the windows and from the +open door, but before they reached it a voice said cheerily,-- + +"All's weel, Mr Dawson. They're coming hame safe enough." + +"Glad tidings of great joy." That was what came into Marion's mind when +she heard the words. + +They had come already. At Miss Jean's door Marion was clasped in the +arms of her brother, and George wrung his father's hand and brought him +in to the light. + +"The Lord is ay kind, George," said Miss Jean. + +But Mr Dawson said nothing. He was too deeply moved for words for a +little while, and indeed so were they all. + +Nannie, notwithstanding her fears, had made great preparations for the +entertainment of the wanderers, and though it might have been wiser for +George and Mr Dawson to go home at once, there was no time to decide +the matter before the supper was on the table, and they all sat down +together. Afterwards they were glad of this, for Mr Dawson did not see +either Marion or her brother again before they went away, and George +only saw them for a moment, just as they were setting out. + +They lingered a good while at the table, though even Willie owned +himself tired enough to wish to rest. They had been in no special +danger. The misfortune was that the small compass, to which they were +to trust should the night be foggy and the stars invisible, had been +left in the ship in the pocket of George's coat, and so they had had no +means of directing their course during the night, and indeed as little +during the day. They had been farther out at sea than they supposed, +and when, as day began to decline, they got a glimpse of the sun they +had to row hard to get sight of land before the darkness fell. + +"And I canna say that I am proud o' mysel' on this occasion," said +Willie laughing. + +"But except for the fright that we have given you all, I canna say that +I shall ever regret the day and the night we have been on the deep," he +added after a moment. George said nothing, but his eyes and his smile +assented to the words of his friend. + +The brother and sister had many people to see and many things to do +during the day that remained, so it happened that neither George nor Mr +Dawson saw them when they called next day at Miss Jean's, and George +only saw them a moment at the station as they were going away. There +were a good many other people there to see them off as well as he. +James Petrie was there, looking a little anxious and uncertain, and not +so ready with just the right word to say, as he generally supposed +himself to be. His sisters were there also, and some other of Marion's +friends, and she was monopolised by them during the two or three minutes +that remained after George came. + +And it was Willie that George came to see, they thought. For he stood +with his hand on his friend's shoulder, and the face of each was grave +enough as they said their last words to one another. + +But George got the last touch of Marion's hand, and the last glance of +her sweet eyes, and the last words which Marion heard, George spoke, and +they were words that she had heard him say before-- + +"My dear little sister." + +Mr Dawson had to wait a good while for the return of his son that +night, and he watched him rather anxiously from the window when at last +he came in sight George moved slowly, with a graver face than usual, and +though his eyes were wandering over the pleasant green of the lawn and +gardens, his father knew that his thoughts were not with his eyes. + +"How little I am in his life besides what he is in mine!" thought the +old man with a sigh. "But so it ay maun be between father and son, and +he is a good son to me--a good son. And it's no' for what I have to +give him," added he with a sudden movement of both pleasure and pain at +his heart. "Though bonny Saughleas were in other hands, and all my gold +and gear were swept into the sea, he would be sorry doubtless, but he +would be a good son still. And he would not be unhappy, for his +portion--that which he has chosen for himself in life would still remain +to him." + +The old man's heart grew soft and a little sad, but he spoke just as +usual when George came in. "Ye're late the nicht." + +"Yes. I went round by the station to see the Calderwoods off. And I +think I have taken longer time than usual for the walk home. I must be +tired, I suppose." + +"And no wonder. And so they are gone. And was nothing said about their +coming back to Portie again?" + +"No. There was time for few words, and there were other people there to +see them off--the Petries, and Maggie Saugster, and some others." + +"Was James Petrie there? Then his answer has been to his mind, or maybe +he hasna asked the question. I dare say he was as wise." + +To this George made no reply whether he understood or not, and in a +little he left the room. But his father's first words went back to the +same subject. + +"It is no' so unwise a thing in James Petrie as it looks, because--" + +"His wisdom has to be proved," said George gravely. And then he held +out a letter to his father. + +"I don't believe in bringing business to Saughleas, as a rule, but I +thought it as well to let you see this to-night." + +His father took it and read it. It was a business letter--important, +but still it might have waited till morning. + +"It is because he doesna wish to hear about James Petrie and his hopes. +It is of her sister dead and gone that he is thinking," said his father +with a sigh. "His is a true and tender heart, and oh! I wish that I +could do him a pleasure." Suddenly there returned to him the thought +that had been with him during his long wanderings over the wet sands +that weary time of waiting. + +"There is nothing which I possessed, that I would not have given for a +thank-offering that night. And there is nothing that I would not give +now." + +And when George came into the room after a long hour or two, his father +was pondering the same matter still. + +In a few days Mr Dawson declared that it was quite time that Jean were +coming home, and to the surprise of his sister and his son he announced +his intention of going to fetch her. + +For in the opinion of both, and certainly in her own opinion, Jean was +quite able to take care of herself, whether in the house or by the way, +and there was no need of his going for her sake. But he went, and +stayed a few days, and they came home together. Jean had no light to +throw on his motive for the journey, for he had never intimated that he +thought she needed his escort home. + +But in a few days there came a letter from Mrs Manners to her aunt +which said,-- + +"The strangest thing happened when my father was in London. He went to +see Mrs Calderwood, with whom he had not exchanged words for years. +Marion was with me, so it was not she that he went to see. And her +mother never told her what he had to say. He only left a small parcel +which her mother was to give her when she came home. It turned out to +be an exquisite little gold watch. Mrs Calderwood would have refused +so valuable a gift for her daughter, if she had known it, which would +have been very absurd, as I told Marion. For what is a few pounds more +or less to my father. But I would give my own watch and chain too, to +know just what was said between them. + +"I have written all this to you, auntie, because my father whiles reads +Jean's letters, and he might not be pleased that I have told it. But if +you think it wise, you may tell George; I am sure he will be glad to +hear it. And as for Marion--I do not wonder that she has stolen my +father's heart in spite of him." + +Mrs Manners would have paid dear for a knowledge of all that passed. +In one way it was very little. + +Mr Dawson sent in his name and waited in the drawing-room, and Mrs +Calderwood came in a little with a smile on her lips, expecting to see +George. + +"I have come to say, `let by-ganes be by-ganes' between us. If you can +forgive all that is past, give me your hand." + +He spoke almost harshly as his manner was when moved, but he spoke +sincerely and even eagerly, and Mrs Calderwood could hardly have +refused her hand, even if she had not long ago forgiven him, as she +herself hoped to be forgiven. + +"I have never borne ill-will, Mr Dawson," said she. + +"No. And now I see it might have been different if I had been wiser. +But--I was hardly myself in those days. He was my only son--and--I had +lost his mother--" + +He suddenly turned his back upon her and strode to the window, and stood +long looking out into the darkening street. His face was quiet enough +when he turned toward her again. + +"The least said the soonest mended," said he; "if you will let by-ganes +be by-ganes, as I said before. I have had many thoughts since I--well +this while--and the other night when they were in danger together--your +son and mine--I got a glimpse of what should be. They are true friends, +these two; and surely there is no reason why we should be other than +friends also." + +Mrs Calderwood was a woman not easily moved. If he had given her time +to think about it, if he had written to her, as he at first thought of +doing, she would not have refused to meet his advances, but she might +have met them less cordially. But when this man, whom she had long +thought of as a hard man, turned a moved face towards her, and speaking +with a softened voice held out his hand again, what could she do but put +hers within it with some gently spoken word of kindness. + +And that was all. Mr Dawson did not even sit down. He did not name +Marion till he put the little packet in her mother's hand, and he did +not return to see her again, though when he went away he meant to do so; +and no one ever knew from him that he had been there. + +But even before their sister's letter came, both George and Jean knew +that in some way, not easy to name, a change had come over their father. +When one day they were together in their aunt's house and she gave them +their sister's letter to read, they understood that something which had +burdened his conscience and embittered his temper had been cast off +forever; but they never spoke of it to each other after they left their +aunt's presence, and she never spoke of it to them. + +But she saw, as other folk did, that in their father's company a new +gentleness of word and manner made itself visible in them both, and she +also saw what others could not see, that with this new gentleness +George's face grew brighter, but on the face of Jean a shade of sadness +fell. + +CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR. + +ANOTHER HOME. + +"Weel! weel! If the marriage is wi' auld Mr Dawson's free consent, +then the Ethiopian can change his skin, and that would be makin' the +Bible out nae true. It's little ye ken! He's nae a man to change like +that." + +It was Mrs Cairnie who spoke, sitting at her daughter's door, with her +crutch at her side. Young Mrs Saugster was sitting inside with her +baby on her lap, and her mother-in-law and Maggie, busy with her seam, +were with her. + +"But Mr Dawson went to the marriage himself, and he wouldna ha'e gone +but o' his ain free will," said Maggie as no one else answered. + +"There's nae sayin'. Young George has the tow in his ain hand. It's as +he says now, I doubt, about maist things." + +"But he could hardly have wished the auld man to go against his will. +And indeed Mr Dawson gets the credit o' makin' the marriage himsel', +though that's likely going beyond the truth," said old Mrs Saugster. +"But what I wonder at is Mrs Calderwood. She is a quait woman, but she +is as stiff in her way, and as proud as ever Mr Dawson was; and though +she said little at the time, she carried a sair heart and angry, for +many a day after she lost her Elsie." + +"Folk change," said her daughter-in-law. "Ay. And it's wonderfu' what +folk can outlive." + +"Mrs Calderwood!" repeated Mrs Cairnie. "What about her! It's a +grand marriage for the like o' her dochter, no' to say that she has +gotten her triumph ower auld George at last. It's weel to be her." + +"It is all like a tale in a book. Somebody should make a ballad about +it," said Maggie. "It's no' often that we see a thing comin' to the +right end, as this ha'e done." + +"The end hasna come yet," said Mrs Cairnie. "And it's no' that richt +for some folk. Look at young Miss Jean. She has her ain thoughts, and +they are no' o' the pleasantest, or her lace doesna tell the truth. And +why didna she go to the marriage wi' the lave?" + +"Oh! it wasna as if it had been a fine wedding. It was to be very +quiet. And Miss Dawson has Mrs Manners' boys at Saughleas. She +couldna weel leave them, nor her aunt." + +"Weel, maybe no'. But it canna please her to think o' leaving +Saughleas, and letting Marion Calderwood reign in her stead. It'll come +to that, though it seems the young folk are goin' to the High-street in +the mean time." + +"Weel, Miss Dawson may be in a home o' her ain by that time," said old +Mrs Saugster. "And whether or no', she's no' the first sister in the +countryside who has had to give way before a brother's wife." + +"Mother! Mrs Cairnie! to say such like things about Miss Dawson! Ye +ken little about her, if ye think she would grudge to do what is right." + +Maggie, red and angry, looked from one to the other as if she would have +liked to say more. Her mother laughed. She knew Maggie's admiration +for young Miss Jean of old, but Mrs Cairnie said sourly,-- + +"It's weel seen that ye belong to the rising generation. In my day +lassies werena in the way o' takin' the words out o' their mother's +mouth, to say naething o' folk four times their age. As for young Miss +Jean, she's liker ither folk than ye think." + +"Whisht, mother. See yonder is Miss Dawson coming down the street." + +"Ay, she'll be on her way to the house in the High-street, though why I +should be bidden whisht at the sight o' her, I dinna ken. And there's +one thing sure. Naebody has seen auld George on his way to the house +yet. That doesna look as gin he were weel pleased." + +"Eh, woman! Ha'e ye forgotten? It was there he took Mary Keith a +bride. Let him be ever so weel pleased, it will give him a sair heart +to go there again." + +There was a slight pause in preparation for Miss Dawson's greeting, but +before she came near them, she was joined by her father and both passed +on with only a word. + +"He's hame again. And I canna say I think he looks ower weel pleased," +said Mrs Cairnie. + +"It is of Mary Keith he is thinking," said her friend. "He has a +feelin' heart for a' sae down as he looks. I doubt he has an ill half +hour before him." + +In the mean time Jean and her father had reached the gate which opened +into the garden of the High-street house. It was a large and well-built +house, higher and with wider windows than most of the houses in Portie, +and on the whole it was a suitable place of abode for a young man of +George's means and station. There was only a strip of green between it +and the street, but behind it was a large walled garden into which Mr +Dawson had never been since he left it for Saughleas long ago. Indeed +he had hardly seen the house since the death of his wife. He never came +to the town over the fields as the young people were in the way of +doing, and he always turned into the High-street from the turnpike road +at a lower point than this. + +"Papa," said Jean, arresting her hand which held the old-fashioned +knocker of the door, "well go home to-night and come over in the +morning. You are tired." + +"No, no. We'll get it ower to-night," said her father in a voice which +he made gruff in trying to make it steady. + +Jean followed the servant into the kitchen and lingered there a while, +and Mr Dawson went alone into the once familiar rooms, and not a word +of sorrow or sympathy was spoken between them, though the daughter's +heart ached for the pain which she knew was throbbing at the heart of +her father. He was looking from the window over the garden to the sea, +and he did not turn as Jean came in, so she did not speak, but went here +and there giving a touch to the things over the arrangement of which she +had spent time and taken pleasure during the last few weeks. + +"You must have made yourself busy this while, Jean," said her father +coming forward at last. "And I must say you have done well. It is all +that can be desired, I would think. There are some things coming from +London, however." + +"Does it not look nice? George had his say about it all. I only +helped. I think Marion will be pleased." + +"But they should have been guided by me, and come straight to Saughleas. +That would have been the best way." + +"I'm no' so sure. I think it was natural and right that George should +wish to be the head of his own house. No, papa. You are master at +Saughleas and ought to be, and I am mistress. Oh! yes, we would both +have given up willingly enough, but then neither George nor Marion would +have willingly taken our places. But never mind, papa. It will all +come in time, and sooner than you think. And I like to think of George +bringing his bride to the very house where you brought mamma." + +It was a rare thing for Jean to speak her mother's name to her father. +It came now with a smile, but with a rush of tears also, which surprised +herself quite as much as they surprised her father, and she turned away +to hide them. It was her father's loss she was thinking of rather than +her own. + +"Ay, my lassie! May they be as blessed here as we were," said her +father. + +And so the first look of his once happy home was gotten over with no +more tender words between them, and they went slowly home together, +through the fields this time. + +Many things had wrought toward the change which Mrs Cairnie and other +folk as well saw in Mr Dawson about this time. The new life which +George was making honourable among his fellow townsmen, the firm stand +he took on the side of right in all matters where his influence could be +brought to bear, the light hold that wealth, or the winning of it for +its own sake, had ever had upon him, had all by slow degrees told on the +old man's opinions and feelings. But as to his wish for his son's +marriage with Marion Calderwood, it was Marion herself who had brought +that about. + +He had noticed her, and had liked her frank, fearless ways before she +left Portie, and the sight-seeing together in London, and more still, +the few quiet days which she had spent with Miss Jean at Saughleas, won +him quite. It was going beyond the truth, as Mrs Saugster had said, to +declare that the old man had made the marriage, though it is doubtful +whether it would have come about so soon, or whether it would have come +about at all, if it had not been for a question or two that he had put +to his sister as he sat once in the gloaming in her house. + +Then there was a softly spoken word or two between Miss Jean and her +nephew, and then George went straight to his father. + +"Father, I am going to ask Marion Calderwood to be my wife, if you will +give your consent." + +It would not have been like Mr Dawson if he had shown at the first word +the pleasure with which he heard it. + +"You are of age now, George, and your ain man. I have no right to +hinder you." + +"Father," said George, after a moment's silence, "I shall think you have +not forgiven the past, if you say the like of that." + +The old man's hand was raised to shade his eyes; he could not quite +trust his face to hide his feelings now, but he said in a voice which he +tried to make indifferent,-- + +"I suppose it is to be her or nobody. Is that what you would say to +me?" + +George made no answer to this. + +"I shall never ask her without your full and free consent." + +Mr Dawson's hand fell and he turned sharply upon him. "And what about +her feelings, if that is to be the way?" + +"I have never given her a word or a look that a brother might not give +to a sister. But I cannot but hope--" added George with a sudden light +in his eye, and a rush of boyish colour to his face. "And I thought you +liked Marion, father?" + +"Like her?" said his father rising. "George, man, go in God's name and +bring her home. She shall be to me like my own daughter. And the +sooner the better." + +So George went to London and won his bride--"too easily," her mother +said. Indeed George had more trouble to win the mother than the +daughter. It was to the mother he went first. + +As for her, unless she could blot out altogether the remembrance of the +sorrow and the hard thoughts of all the past, how could she consent to +give her child to him? + +"And would it not be well to blot them out?" said George. + +"Ay, if it could be done. But as for me--I canna forget my Elsie--" + +"And do I forget Elsie? when Marion looks at me with Elsie's eyes and +speaks to me with her voice, and--" + +"And will that content my Marion, think ye? George, Marion is not just +what her sister was. She is of a deeper nature, and is a stronger woman +in every way. She is worthy of being loved for her own sake, and +nothing less would content her, though she might think it for a while. +And oh! George, I cannot bear the thought of having her free heart and +her happy life disturbed. To think that she must go through all that!" +said the widow with a sigh. + +"Dear mother," said George--it was not the first time he had called her +so--and he took her unwilling hand between his own as he spoke, "she +shall not be disturbed, unless you give me leave to speak; I will go +away again without a word. I will not even see her for a while. I +cannot promise to give up the thought of her altogether, but I will go +away now." + +But Mrs Calderwood said,-- + +"No, George. You must see her since you are here, though you must not +speak to her of this. She is no longer a child, and I fear I did an +unwise thing in trying to keep you out of her sight so long. It kept +you in her mind all the more--not you, but a lad of her own fancy with +your name. Miss Jean ay said it would be far better to let things take +their course, and so it might have been." + +"And do you mean that you kept us from meeting of your own will?" + +"Dinna look at me in that way, George. What could I do? You were both +young, and she ay made a hero of you. And there was your father. And I +wouldna have my bairn's heart troubled. Not that I mean that she cares +for you, as she ought not--" + +"Dear mother, let me ask her." + +Mrs Calderwood made a sudden impatient movement. She loved the young +man dearly. And her own son, who to her proud thought was "a man among +men," was scarcely dearer. He was a son in all but the name. She loved +him, and she believed in him; and even to herself, as she looked at his +face, it seemed a foolish and a wrong thing to send him away. + +But then it had always been in her thought that these two must never +come together in this way, because of her dead Elsie, and because of the +hard old man's angry scorn, which, though she had forgiven him, she +could not forget. She could not change easily. It was not her nature. +And she could not bear that her Marion's heart should be disturbed from +its maiden peace. She moved about the room uncertain what she ought to +say or do, and utterly impatient of her own hesitation. When she sat +down again George came and stood before her. + +"Mrs Calderwood, my father gave me God speed, and bade me bring her +home." + +"Oh! your father," cried Mrs Calderwood with sudden anger. "Your +father has ay gotten his ain will for good or for ill, all his life +long. And now to think--" + +"His last words were--`She shall be to me as my own daughter.'" + +Mrs Calderwood turned her face away. + +"He loves her dearly," said George softly. + +Still she did not speak. + +"And, mother,--turn your face to me,--I love her dearly." + +She turned then, and at the sight of his moved face her eyes overflowed +with tears. + +"Oh! George! you are very dear to me, but my Marion is all I have--" + +What more she might have said, he never knew, for the door opened, and +Marion came softly in with a letter in her hand. Her mother rose, but +she did not move away from George, as was her first impulse, nor did she +try to hide her tears. It would have been no use, for they were falling +like rain over her face. Marion stood still at the door, looking at +them with wonder and a little fear. + +George went to her, and taking her hand led her to her mother. He was +very pale and his lips trembled as he said,-- + +"Mother, will you let me speak to her now?" + +What she might have answered she could not tell. She dropped into her +seat with a little cry, and in a moment Marion was kneeling before her, +and then so was George; and, of course, there was only one way in which +it could end. + +Mrs Calderwood said afterwards that Marion had let herself be too +easily won. Marion laughed when she said this. + +"I think, mother, I was won long before that day," said she. + +But at the moment the mother could only give her consent. In a little, +when George had taken his wife, that was to be, to the other end of the +room, Mrs Calderwood picked up the letter which Marion had let fall, +and opened it mechanically, letting her eye fall on the written words +while her thoughts were elsewhere. But before she had read many words +she uttered an exclamation and hastily went out of the room. + +_Her_ pride was to be spared at any rate. Nobody had supposed that +_she_ would be too easily won. The letter was from Mr Dawson; and by +rights she ought to have had it before George came, for it was to +bespeak her good word for him that he had written. + +It was just, "Let by-ganes be by-ganes. Give your daughter to my son, +and she shall be welcomed among us with all the love and honour of which +she is worthy--and more cannot be said than that." + +Mrs Calderwood read it and read it again, and her wonder grew. +Changed! Surely if ever a man was changed, George Dawson must be to +write to her such a letter as that. But when she showed it to her +daughter, Marion was only surprised at her amazement. All these kind +words did not seem strange to her. She had never heard any but kind +words from him. + +"I began to think he liked me when I was staying with Mrs Manners, and +I was sure of it at Saughleas--only afterwards--and even then--" said +Marion not very coherently. But she did not explain her meaning more +clearly. + +"The sooner the better," Mr Dawson had said, and George said the same, +and so did Jean in a few sweet words that came in a day or two, and so +did her aunt. Mrs Manners reminded her husband that she had told him +of Marion's conquest of her father on that first day of her visit to +them last year, and also that she had foreseen this happy ending. So +with all belonging to George so ready to welcome her child among them, +and George himself so dear, what could Mrs Calderwood do but be glad +also, and give her up with a good grace? + +It was not so difficult a matter after all, she found when she had thus +determined. And by and by she forgave her daughter for having been too +easily won. And the visionary jealousy which had risen within her at +the memory of her lost child vanished, though in her heart she doubted +whether her poor dead Elsie had ever won such love as George had now to +give her sister. + +So the marriage day was set. It was not very soon, George thought, but +the time was not unreasonably long, and it was hastened a little at the +last. Captain Calderwood came home from his second voyage in his own +ship sooner than was expected, and his stay was to be shorter than +usual. The wedding was to be a very quiet one, and it could be hastened +without interfering seriously with preparations. Marion had set her +heart on her brother's being with her, and it was so arranged, and all +things went well. + +All things but one. At the very last there came from Jean a letter with +many good reasons why she could not come with her father and brother, +and with many sweet words of love to the girl "whom she would have +chosen from all the world to be her sister." But Mr Dawson was there, +intent on doing honour to the occasion, and Mr and Mrs Manners and +Captain Saugster of the "John Seaton," and of all people in the world, +Sir Percy Harefield! who did not, it is to be supposed, come without an +invitation, but who possibly suggested to Mr Dawson that he would like +to receive one. + +And all went well. There was no large party and no regular +speech-making. The bridegroom said nothing, Captain Calderwood said +only, "If he could have chosen a brother out of all the world, he would +have chosen no other;" and Mr Dawson remembered the words of Jean's +letter to Marion, which she had shown him before she sent it away. Mr +Dawson said a few words, but he was not so happy, because he could not +help again expressing a wish that "by-ganes might be by-ganes," which +Mrs Calderwood thought he might have omitted on that day at least. + +It came to an end, and the bride and bridegroom went away, and Mr +Dawson and Sir Percy Harefield went with Captain Calderwood to see his +ship, and they were all very friendly together; so friendly that Sir +Percy had thoughts of turning his back on London and the prospective +delights of the moors, and taking the voyage with Captain Calderwood to +see what the other side of the world was like. + +"And what thought ye o' Willie himself?" asked Miss Jean, when Mr +Dawson was telling her all this, after he had been at home a day or two. +"Is he likely to be such a man as his father was?" + +"There's mair o' him than ever there would ha'e been o' his father, if +he had been spared, poor man. He is much thought of by his employers. +I thought him stiff at first. But he thawed out and was cordial and +kindly after a little. He would have made the Englishman very welcome +to go with him, if he had keepit in the same mind till he sailed. But I +doubt, as Jean once said o' him, he would have found him a heavy handfu' +ere a' was done. I ken no greater misfortune that can befall a man than +to have nothing to do in the world." + +"He has his soldiering?" + +"No, he hasna even that now, and he is unfortunate in caring little for +the occupations that seem to pass the time for folk o' his class. He is +coming north again, he says, and I dare say we'll get a sight o' him." + +"He was ay an idle man, even when he was a poor man." + +"Yes. But I ay think he might have been made something of, if the right +woman would have taken him in hand." + +Miss Jean could not agree with him. + +"And whether or no', he needna come north to find her," said she. + +"No, I suppose not, but it is a pity." + +"George, man! I canna but wonder to hear you," said his sister gravely. + +"Weel, he has a kind heart, and I canna but be sorry for him. And he is +a perfect gentleman." + +"Being sorry for him is one thing, and being willing to give him our +best is another," said Miss Jean, with a sharpness that made her brother +smile. "But I'm no' feared--" + +Miss Jean paused. She was not quite sure that she had nothing to fear. +To her it seemed that the Englishman had been wonderfully constant--"for +the like o' him"--and she was not quite so sure of Jean as she used to +be. + +One day while her father was away, they had been speaking of Mr +Dawson's wish that George should take his bride to Saughleas. Jean had +said the best way to settle it would be for her to go away to a house of +her own and then George could not refuse to take Marion to Saughleas. + +"Weel," said her aunt, "I dare say that might be brought about, if you +could bring your mind to it." + +"I'll bide a wee," said Jean laughing, but her face grew grave enough in +a minute or two. + +"I have ay thought myself of some use to my father and George, but now +George is away, and even my father would be content with Marion in my +place." + +"That is scarcely the most cheerful way to look at it, or the wisest. +And it's no' like you, Jean, my dear." + +"Are you thinking that I am jealous of Marion, Aunt Jean? No, it is not +that I love her dearly, and I am glad for George, and for my father, +since he is pleased. But are you sure that it gave _you_ no pang to +give up your brother to Mary Keith?" + +Miss Jean smiled, and shook her head. + +"I was growing an old woman even at that time. No, though she was +almost a stranger to me, I was only glad for George. They loved one +another." + +"And besides you were an independent woman, with a life and work of your +own, and content." + +"Jean, my dear," said her aunt, laying down her work and folding her +hands on her lap, as was her way when she had something serious to say, +"unless ye are keeping something in your heart that ye have never told +to me, and there be a reason for it, I would hardly say that you are +looking at things with your usual sense and cheerfulness. Do you think +that your father has less need o' you now than he has ay had? And do +you think it is because o' you that George is so set on taking his wife +to the High-street? I see no great change that has come to you or your +work, and though it is like giving up your brother in a sense, yet you +are glad to do it. What has happened to you, my dear? Would it ease +your heart to tell it to me?" + +Jean had changed colour many times while her aunt was speaking, and now +she sat with her eyes turned away to the sea, as if she were considering +whether it would be well to speak. Miss Jean kept silence. She needed +no words to tell her the girl's trouble. She had guessed the cause of +the weariness and restlessness that Jean could not hide from her, though +she could keep a cheerful face before the rest of her world. But she +thought it possible that after so long a silence it might do her heart +good to speak, if it were only a word, and so she waited silently. But +on the whole she was not sorry when Jean rose and took her hat in her +hand to go. + +"No, Auntie Jean, I have nothing to tell you, positively nothing. I am +`ower weel off,' as Tibbie Cairnie says. That is what ails me, I dare +say." + +"You'll ha'e May and her bairns through the summer, and plenty to do, +and there is nothing better than that to put away--" + +"Discontent," said Jean, as her aunt hesitated for a word. "My dear, ye +should ha'e gone with your father and George. It would ha'e done you +good." + +"Well, perhaps it might. But it is too late now. Did I tell you that +May wrote that Sir Percy Harefield was at the wedding?" + +"No, ye didna tell me." + +"May thinks he asked my father to invite him, and my father seems to be +as much taken up with him as ever. He is coming north again, she says." + +"And has his new tide changed him any, and his new possessions, does +your sister say?" + +"He has grown fat--more portly, May calls it," said Jean laughing. "She +says he is going to Parliament." + +"He'll do little ill there, it's likely." + +"And as little good, ye think, auntie. It will keep him out of +mischief, as he used to say. And after all, I dare say he will do as +well as most of them. He is a gentleman anyway, and that is ay +something." + +And then she went away, and while Miss Jean mused on the cause of Jean's +discontent, she could not forget what she called the Englishman's +constancy, and she heartily wished that something might happen to keep +him from coming north for a while. + +"And I canna help thinking that if Jean had gone to her brother's +marriage, something might have happened to set her heart at rest." + +But that was not Jean's thought. She had not said until the last moment +that she was not going, partly because she wished to avoid discussion, +and partly because of something else. The many good reasons by which +she had succeeded in convincing her father that it was best for her to +stay at home, were none of them the reason why she did not go. That +could be told to no one. It was only with pain and something like a +sense of shame--though she told herself angrily that there was no cause +for shame--that she acknowledged to herself the reason. + +"I care for him still, though he has forgotten me. I ay cared for him. +And he loved me once, I know well. But if he loved me still, he would +come and tell me. I could not go and meet him now--and his mother's +eyes would be on me--and yet, oh! how I long to see his face after all +these years!" + +After all these years she might well say. For since May's marriage day, +when her heart fell low as Marion told her that her brother had gone +away, she had never seen him. He had come north once with George when +she was away from home, and he had been in England more than once while +she was visiting his sister, but he had never come to see her. + +It had hurt her, but she had comforted herself, saying it was because of +her father or perhaps also because of his own mother that he did not +come. But since Marion was coming home to them, that could be no reason +now if he cared, and almost up to the last moment she had waited, hoping +that he might come. And then she told herself it was impossible that +she should go to meet him, caring for him still. + +"And the best thing I can do now is to put it all out of my mind +forever." + +If she only could have done so, and she did her best to try. May came +home with her father; and she and her pretty boys and her baby daughter +were with them all the summer. And by and by George brought home his +wife, and it was a gay and busy time with them all. + +May, who saw most things that were passing, noticed that in some ways +her sister was different from what she used to be. She was not the +leader in all the gay doings, but left the young visitors at the house +to amuse themselves in their own way. She was intent on household +matters, as was right, and she took more time to herself in the quiet of +her own room than she used to do. But she was merry enough with the +children, and indeed gave much of her leisure to them, going about in +the house and the garden with baby Mary in her arms, and the little +brothers following in their train for many a pleasant hour. + +George brought his wife home to the High-street. Even Mr Dawson after +a while acknowledged that they had been wise to secure for themselves +the quiet of a house of their own. Not that they began in these first +days by living to themselves. There was enough to do. There were gay +doings in many homes in honour of the bride, and the honour intended was +generally accepted none the less gratefully or gracefully, that the gay +doings could have been happily dispensed with by them both. + +They had pleasures and occupations of another kind also, for Marion was +too well-known to the poor folk of Portie to make her coming among them +as young Mrs Dawson an intrusion or a trouble. So the young husband +and wife went in and out together, "the very sicht o' them," as even +Mrs Cairnie owned, "doing a body gude as they passed." + +And on the comings and goings of these happy young people, on the honour +paid them, on their kindly words and deeds, and heartsome ways with rich +and poor, with old friends and new, Mr Dawson looked and pondered with +a constant, silent delight which few besides the two Jeans saw or +suspected. Even they could not but wonder sometimes at the unceasing +interest he found in them and their doings at home and abroad. + +He wondered at it himself sometimes. It was like a new sweet spring of +life to him to see them, and to hear about them, and to know that all +things went well with them; and though few out of his own household +could have seen any change in him, it was clear in many ways to those +who saw him in his own house day by day. + +"God leads His ain by many ways to Himself," thought Miss Jean in her +solitary musings over it all. "They that think they ken a' the secrets +o' nature tell us that the flowing waters and the changing seasons, +bringing whiles the frost and whiles the sunshine, have made from the +rocks that look so unchangeable, much o' the soil out of which comes +bread to us all. And who kens but God's gender dealings, coming after +sore trouble, may prepare his heart for the richer springing o' the good +seed, till it bring forth a hundred-fold to His honour and glory. I ay +kenned that the Lord had a richt hold o' him through all, and that He +would show him His face at last. Blessed be His name?" + +"It whiles does folk gude to get their ain way about things, though +that's no' the belief o' gude folk generally, and nae in the Bible, as +they would gar us believe," said Mrs Cairnie, who never kept her +opinions to herself if she could get any one to listen to them. "George +Dawson is growing an auld failed man--and nae won'er considerin' how +lang he has been toilin' and moilin', gi'ein' himsel' neither nicht's +rest nor day's ease. But auld and failed though he be, there's a +satisfied look on his face that naebody has seen there since the days he +used to come in to the kirk wi' his wife and a' his bairns followin' +after him,--langer ago than ye'll mind, Maggie, my woman. And for that +matter naebody saw it then. It was satisfaction o' anither kind that he +had in those days, I'm thinkin'." + +"But, grannie," said Maggie Saugster, giving her the name that the old +woman liked best, though she would not acknowledge it, "is it about +young Mr and Mrs Dawson you are thinkin', or is it about May and her +bairns? Because I mind ye once said to my mother and me that you +doubted the old man wasna weel pleased when Mr George brought Marion +Calderwood home." + +"Oh! ay. Ye're gude at mindin' things that's nae speired at you whiles. +He's gotten his will about mair things than that of late, and what I +say is, that it has done him gude, as trouble never did." + +"Maybe his satisfaction comes from giving up his ain will, rather than +from getting it. I ken the look ye mean, mother," said her daughter +gently. + +"Weel, it may be. A thing seems to ha'e taken a turn sin' I was young. +But it's nae the look his face used to wear when man or woman countered +him in the old days." + +"Ay. But it would be different when the Lord took him in hand." + +"The Lord has been lang about it, if it's only the day that He's takin' +him in hand. But what I'm sayin' is this, that it does folk gude to get +their ain will about things whiles, and I only wish that the Lord would +try it on me, and set me strong on my ain twa feet again," said Mrs +Cairnie, taking up her crutch with a sigh. + +"Or satisfy you with His will instead. That would do as well, mother." + +"Weel, weel! That's your way o' it, and if I'm allowed to tak' the +wrang gait, it winna be for want o' tellin'," said the old woman, moving +slowly down to the corner of the street which was almost the length of +her tether now. The eyes of the others followed her pitifully. + +"She's nae that sharp now--nae that soon angered, I mean," said Maggie, +with some hesitation, meaning to say something kind, but not quite sure +how far her sister-in-law might accept her sympathy. + +"No," said the other after a pause. "And I whiles think that the Lord +is getting His will o' her too, though she hardly kens it hersel' yet." + +"Ay. As Miss Jean says, the Lord has many ways," said Maggie +reverently. + +CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE. + +SUSPENSE. + +And so the summer wore over, and May went home with all her children, +though Jean would fain have kept one boy with her. But her mother +feared the bleak east winds for the rather delicate Georgie who was the +favourite at Saughleas, and she had reasons that satisfied herself for +taking little Keith home also, but she promised to send them both back +again as soon as the winter was over. + +The summer ended, and autumn days grew short, and a quiet time came that +reminded Jean of the days when May had gone to London "to meet her +fate," and she was waiting for the coming home of the "John Seaton." +There was the same long dreaming in the gloaming, before her father came +in, the same listening to the woeful voices of the winds and the sea, +and the same shadow on Jean's face and in her wistful eyes that her +father had seen in those days--now so long ago. He sometimes surprised +it now, but, if this happened, it went hard with Jean if she did not +make him forget it before he slept. + +About the new year Mrs Calderwood's old friend died, and when her will +was read, to her surprise Mrs Calderwood found that she had left her +money enough to enable her to live henceforth free from the cares which +accompany the task of making too little do the work of enough, as had +been her lot during the greater part of her life of widowhood. + +George, who had gone to London to be with her at that time, insisted on +bringing her back to Scotland with him. She had exhausted herself in +attendance on her old friend, and she needed a change. Later she was to +return and make all necessary arrangements, but in the mean time it +would have been neither wise nor kind he thought to leave her there +alone. + +For this George had a better reason than he gave to her. News had come +of terrible storms that had passed over Southern seas. Already rumours +of disaster and loss had reached England, and the owners of Captain +Calderwood's ship, the "Ben Nevis," were beginning to feel some anxiety +with regard to her. + +Another ship, the "Swallow," had arrived from Melbourne, bringing word +that the "Ben Nevis" was to have sailed three days after the time she +had put to sea. The voyage had been a long one, though happily the +"Swallow" had passed beyond the latitudes where the storms had raged +most fiercely before the danger had arisen. The "Ben Nevis" was the +swifter vessel of the two, and by rights, she ought to have reached +England before her. And when ten days passed, and then ten more, there +was good reason for fear for her safety. + +Happily Captain Calderwood's outward voyage and his stay in Melbourne +had been shorter than his mother had calculated upon, so that as yet no +thought of anxiety had come to disturb her, and she was glad to go with +George, believing that she could pay a few weeks in Scotland with her +daughter, and still be in London in time to receive her son when he +should return. + +It was Mrs Calderwood's first visit after an absence of several years, +to a place which had been her home during the greater part of her life. +There were many to welcome her, and there was much to see and hear, and +she was greatly occupied. But George wondered sometimes that she should +live on from day to day, showing no misgivings, even no surprise, at the +continued absence of her son. + +He need not have wondered. She had been a sailor's daughter, and a +sailor's wife, and she had lived the greater part of her life among +sailors' wives and widows, and had learned the necessity of giving no +unwise indulgence to fancies and fears, and to keep quiet and face them +when fears and fancies had to give place at last to a knowledge of +disaster and loss. + +She had had anxious thoughts doubtless while she awaited the expected +summons to meet her son, when the ship should be heard from, but +outwardly she was calm and even cheerful. It was wise for her own sake +not to dwell on her fears--which indeed were hardly fears as yet, but +only a vague movement of surprise and impatience that she should have to +wait so long. And it was wise also for the sake of her daughter, who +was not so strong as usual. So she kept herself cheerful and seemed to +be taking so little thought of what might be awaiting her, that George +questioned at last whether it might not be both kind and wise to prepare +her for the shock which he began to fear must come soon. This painful +task did not fall to him however, and Mrs Calderwood was already better +prepared for it than he knew. + +It was drawing near the end of February by this time, and it was a +milder season than Portie often sees. There were weeks of bleak weather +to come yet, for this eastern coast rarely escapes a full share of that +sooner or later. But in the mean time the days were fair and calm, and +looking over a pale grey sea, bright now and then with a blink of +sunshine, thoughts of storm and danger did not come so readily, as with +a wild and angry sea they might have done. But even Marion was +beginning to wonder that her mother said nothing of what might be +keeping the "Ben Nevis" so long. + +And then a single word came to break the silence between them, and they +knew that the mother's quietness had cost her something. But she was +quiet still when doubts and fears and even despair were busy at her +heart. + +They were still sitting at breakfast one fair morning when Jean came in. +She was just as usual, they all thought at the moment, but afterwards +each remembered the look on her face as she opened the door. The air +had brought a colour to her cheeks, so she was not pale, but there was a +startled look in her eyes as she turned them from one to another before +she uttered a word. It changed as she marked the unmoved face of each. + +She kissed Marion, and then, strangely enough, she kissed Mrs +Calderwood, and laid two pale primroses, the first of the season, on a +book which she held in her hand. + +They were friendly, these two, and even more than friendly, but there +was always a touch of shyness and reserve between them, even when they +were most friendly. Marion, who so dearly loved them both, saw it and +wondered at it often, but she smiled now as Jean stooped and touched her +lips to her mother's cheek. Mrs Calderwood grew a shade paler, and a +question came into her eyes as she met Jean's look. But Jean had no +answer for it. + +"I found them in a sheltered nook in the wood when I was out this +morning. They are come earlier than usual, and there will soon be more +of them." + +Jean did not meet her look as she thanked her, but turned to George who +was preparing to go out, nor would she sit down. + +"I only looked in as I passed, to see if all was well with you. I have +many things to do, but I will come in again before I go home, unless I +should be detained longer than I expect in the town." So in a little +she and her brother went out together. "Are you taking the paper with +you, George?" said Mrs Calderwood following them to the door. + +"Not if you wish to see it. I will send for it by and by when I want +it." + +"You have seen it, George?" said Jean as they went on. "If you mean the +paragraph about the `Ben Nevis,' yes, I have seen it. It does not say +much beyond the usual, `Fears are entertained for the safety, etc.'" + +"And now she will see it." + +"Yes, I think it is as well. It will help to prepare her for what she +may have to hear later." + +"George," said Jean in a little, "does that mean that you are afraid?" + +"There is cause for anxiety. There was that before we left London. I +only wonder that Mrs Calderwood has said so little about it." + +"And you left London more than six weeks ago." George told her of the +succession of terrible storms that had swept over the Southern seas +about the close of the year, in latitudes where possibly the "Ben Nevis" +had been at that time, acknowledging that there would be reason to fear +for the fate of the ship unless she were heard from soon. His anxiety +had been greater than he knew, and he had kept it to himself so long +that to speak was a relief, which led him to say more to his sister than +he would otherwise have done. His words were less hopeful than he meant +them to be, until Jean said, "Do you mean that you give them up?" + +"By no means. I do not even give up the ship. I know Willie Calderwood +and what he can do too well to do that yet a white. And even if they +had to forsake the ship, the chances are in favour of safety for the +men. All that depends on circumstances of which we can know nothing. +But I by no means give up the ship even yet." + +"But, George, should you not have stayed to tell Mrs Calderwood so?" + +"No, I think not. There will be time enough for that, and she is of a +nature to meet the first pain best alone." + +"But Marion?" + +"She will not speak to Marion at once. And, Jean, it is as well that +the awful possibility of loss should be admitted. But my hopes are +stronger than my fears." + +"The awful possibility of loss?" Jean repeated the words with white +lips, not knowing that she did so. They had lengthened their walk, +passing Miss Jean's house and going on to the pier. They turned now and +came back in silence. At Miss Jean's door they paused. + +"It will be as well to say nothing as yet," said George. + +"Not to Aunt Jean?" + +"Oh! yes. I have spoken to her already. I mean to people generally. +And, Jean, go and see Marion and her mother again before you go home." + +But Jean said nothing to her aunt about what she had heard. She stayed +her usual time, and discussed certain purchases that were to be made of +material for the summer outfit of some of her aunt's "puir bodies," and +went into matters of detail as to quantity, and needles and thread, and +as to the help that each would need in the making of her gown. And then +she went away and did all else that she meant to do when she left home, +and lingered over it, till it was too late, she told herself, to go to +the High-street again. + +Three days passed before she went there, and the like had seldom +happened since Marion came home. She did not know how she could speak +to the mother of the anguish and suspense that lay before her, and she +shrank from a betrayal of her own pain. + +But when she went in on the fourth day it struck her with surprise to +see that they were just the same as usual. No change of grief or terror +had passed upon them. Mrs Calderwood was grave and pale, but she spoke +about various matters cheerfully enough, though she made no allusion to +the fears for her son. + +Marion spoke of her brother, and said how hopeful George was about him, +and how the old sailors about the pier were saying to one another, that +Captain Calderwood was not the man to be caught unprepared for a storm, +and being prepared, with plenty of sea room, what was there to fear? He +would bring his ship home all right. There was no fear of that. + +But the next news that came made even the old sailors shake their heads +when the ship was spoken of. A boat had been picked up by a South +American vessel, filled with men from the wreck of the "Ben Nevis" and +from the Southern port to which these had been carried came the tidings. + +They had encountered a succession of storms, which had so strained and +shattered the good ship "Ben Nevis," that there seemed a fairer chance +of escaping with life by betaking themselves to the boats than by +remaining with the ship. There were not many passengers on board, only +seventeen all told. Nine of these, with four sailors, were in the boat +which the American had saved when they had been five days away from the +wreck. + +They could say nothing of those whom they had left on board, though they +had still seen the ship afloat in the distance on the second day. There +was no familiar name in the list of the rescued, but it was said that +the weather had moderated while they were in the vicinity of the ship, +and there seemed no reason to doubt that the rest of the passengers and +crew had been able to save themselves. + +Captain Calderwood's name was mentioned in terms that brought tears of +pride and sorrow to the eyes of those who loved him. His courage and +kindness and patience had never failed through all the terrible days of +storm. Discipline had been maintained through all, as perfectly as +during the summer calm that preceded those awful days; and the last +sight which the rescued saw as they drew off from the ship, to await the +manning of the other boats, was their captain standing on the deck +encouraging them with hand and voice. + +And that was all. But that was much, and now they could wait for +further tidings with patience. On the whole they kept in good heart for +a while. But as time went on, the suspense and anxiety of the days that +went before, seemed to pass into each new day as it came. For they knew +that each passing day without tidings mocked the hope they had so long +cherished. + +Through all the mother waited quietly. Never quite without hope that +she would see her son again, but after a while the poor pretence of +cheerfulness for which she had striven, because of Marion, failed beyond +her power to help it. The silent patience which had been the habit of +her life under other troubles, stood her in good stead now. And when +this failed her, and the restlessness, of a slowly dying hope came upon +her, she would go away by herself till she could hide all tokens of her +pain again. + +Sometimes she went to Miss Jean's for comfort, but often when her +daughter believed her to be there, she was walking up and down the wet +sands, or sitting in some sheltered nook among the rocks, striving for +calmness to bear to the end. She had gone through it all before, and +now she seemed to be waiting again and longing and fearing for his +father, while she waited for her only son. When other eyes were upon +her she was calm enough, and troubled no one with her trouble, but she +needed the rest which solitude gave her to carry her through the +lengthening days. + +Marion bore the long suspense well, they all said. She was young, and +it was her nature to look for brightness rather than gloom, and no such +trouble had come upon her as had darkened the life of her mother. There +were only hopeful views expressed in her presence, and though she knew +that cheerfulness was encouraged and often assumed for her sake, she had +the sense and courage to respond to the efforts of those who loved her, +and to keep herself quiet and patient for their sakes. + +One good came to Mrs Calderwood out of the trouble of those days. She +had forgiven Mr Dawson the hard words and unreasonable anger of the old +days, or she believed that she had, but even to herself she could not +say that she had forgotten them. She was never quite at her ease in his +presence. It was not so much that she disliked him, as that she could +not convince herself that he did not dislike her. The sight of her +could only, she thought, recall to him much that he could not but wish +to forget; and if she could do so, without remark, she generally chose +to be out of the way during his frequent visits to the house. + +But whatever he might feel towards her, there could be no doubt as to +the esteem in which he held her son, or as to the anxiety which he +shared with them all. He was not, as a general thing, ready with words +of sympathy, but she had seen tears in his eyes more than once as he +spoke her son's name, and her heart could not but soften towards him, +and a real friendliness, which in other circumstances might have come +but slowly, grew up in this troubled time between them. + +There was no lack of sympathy. Not a man or woman in Portie, but felt +deeply for the trouble of Willie Calderwood's mother and sister, though +they were for the most part shy as to any expression of it. Indeed Mrs +Calderwood kept out of the way of words. George guarded his wife from +the hearing of any thing that would move her out of her usual quiet, and +when he was not at hand, Jean guarded her as carefully for his sake. + +To Jean, as to the rest, the days passed slowly and heavily. To the +eyes of even her aunt she was just as usual, no graver nor sadder than +was natural since a friend, and one who was more than a friend to those +she loved, was in danger. But no one ever heard her speak of the +anxiety that oppressed them all. She listened in silence when, as is +the way at such times, the causes for hope or fear were gone over, and +over, and over again, or she went away and did not listen, but she never +put in her word with the rest. + +It was only as a friend that she had a right to grieve for Willie +Calderwood, she told herself. They had never been lovers. They had +cared for one another long ago--oh! so long ago now. But they had not +seen one another for years, because he had not cared to see her, and it +was all past now. She had been angry at first, and then sorry. Yes, +she had suffered sharply for a while, she acknowledged. But she was +neither sorry nor angry now. She was anxious for his safety, and she +longed for his return, as all his friends did. And her heart ached for +his mother and his sister, and for George, to whom he was both brother +and friend. And that was all. + +But a day came when her heart spoke, nay, cried out as the heart of no +mere friend could cry. She was sitting one day in Miss Jean's parlour, +when her brother came in. There were tears in his eyes and a strange, +uncertain smile on his lips, and he laid his hand on her shoulder as she +stood by the window, pausing a moment before he spoke, as if he were not +sure of his voice. + +"Jean," he said, "there is news at last." + +Jean grew very white. + +"Well?" said she sitting down. + +"Is it good news, George, man?" said his aunt hastily. + +"It is just such news as one would expect to hear from Willie +Calderwood. Yes, I call it good news, whatever may come next." + +And then he told them how another of the "Ben Nevis'" boats had been +heard from. After much suffering from anxiety and exhaustion, they who +left the ship in it had landed somewhere on the West African coast, and +had, after some delay, been taken from thence in a Portuguese vessel to +Lisbon. And now some of them at least had reached England. And this +was the news they brought. + +When those who were to go in the second boat were about to take their +places in it, Captain Calderwood had, to their utter amazement, declared +his intention of remaining with the ship for that night at least. The +vessel was new and strongly built, and within the hour he had seen some +tokens that led him to believe that, during the storm, it had not gone +so hardly with her as had been at first feared. + +The cargo was a valuable one, and his duty to his employers demanded +that, while there was a chance of saving it and the ship, he should +remain on board. At the same time he acknowledged, that as far as could +now be judged, there was but a chance in ten, that he could do this, +while by taking to the boats at once, there was a fair prospect of their +being picked up by one of the many homeward bound vessels which at that +season followed the course which they had taken. + +Then he called for volunteers to remain with him. Not a man among the +sailors but would have stayed at his bidding. But an able crew was +placed in the departing boat, and he was left with just men enough to +work the ship, among them three passengers, should all go well. Should +they find when the night was over, that chances were against saving the +ship, they also were to take to the boat and do what might be done to +escape with the rest. + +They who were in the second boat had stayed in the vicinity of the ship +that night and the next day and night, but when the second morning +dawned she was no longer to be seen. Whether she had sunk or whether +she had sailed away out of their sight they had no means of knowing, nor +could they form any conjecture as to the fate of those who remained on +board. They might have betaken themselves to the boat at the last +moment, or they might have gone down with the ship. + +But whatever had happened this was sure--No braver man or better sailor +than Captain Calderwood had ever commanded a ship. This was all that +was to be told about the "Ben Nevis." + +"And what do you gather from it all?" said Miss Jean in a little. "Ye +dinna give up all hope?" + +"We can only wait patiently a little longer. If the bringing home of +the disabled ship was a thing to be done, Captain Calderwood was the man +to do it. No, I by no means give up hope. He may come any day now." + +They had said this many times before, and now none of them had the +courage to say that he should have been home long ago if all had been +well. + +"I fear it was an unwise courage that led him to undertake an impossible +work," said Miss Jean sadly. + +"No, aunt. You must not say that. He must have seen more than a +possibility, or he would never have risked life. It was his simple duty +as he saw it, neither more nor less. We may be sure of that, knowing +him as we do." + +"But, oh! George, what is a ship's cargo, or even the ship itself, in +comparison with a young strong life like his?" + +"Ay, aunt. But duty is the first thought with a true man like Captain +Calderwood. And he has all the resources that strength and patience and +skill and courage can give to a man, and I cannot but hope that he'll +come safe home yet." + +"He is in God's hands," said Miss Jean. + +"Ay, is he. And God bless him wherever he is," said George with a break +in his voice. + +Jean had sat in silence, turning her eyes from one to the other as each +had spoken. + +"Have you told his mother?" said Miss Jean. + +"Yes, she has heard all. It seems two of the sailors have reported +themselves to the owners in London, and she thinks she must see them, +though I fear it will do little good." + +"It will give her something to do anyway," said Miss Jean. "But she is +quite worn out with anxiety, though she has said so little about it, and +I doubt she ought not to go alone." + +"No, I shall go with her," said George. "It would make Marion miserable +to think of her mother with her sore heart solitary in London. We need +not stay long." + +"And after a day or two she will think of her daughter's need of her, +and come home. If only the suspense were over one way or another--" + +"No, aunt, don't say that. We have hope yet--strong hope of seeing him +again. If you only heard the tales I hear on the pier about the +wonderful escapes that skill and courage have won. Hope! Yes, I have +hope." + +"My dear, I have heard all that could be told before you were born. But +all the same there has many a ship gone down since then, and many a sore +heart has waited and hoped in vain. But I'm no' goin' to say all that +to Willie Calderwood's mother, true though it be." + +"And, George," said Jean speaking for the first time, "you may be quite +at peace about Marion." + +"Yes. I leave her with you. She will keep herself quiet." + +"We will take her to Saughleas. That will please my father." + +And so it was settled, and the long days went on. Jean busied herself +with her father and her sister, and went out and in just as usual, +giving no time when other eyes were upon her to her own thoughts. But +she welcomed the night. Sitting in the darkness, with only the grey +gleam of the sea for her eyes to rest upon, she gave herself up to +thoughts of her friend. + +She called him her friend, but she knew that he was more than a friend +to her; and she had at least this comfort now, that she was no longer +angry or ashamed to care for him still, although he had forgotten her. +He would always be her friend now, whether he lived or died. She might +grieve for those who loved him, and whom he loved, and for the young +strong life lost to the world which needed such as he to do its best +work, but he would still be hers in memory, and more in death than in +life. + +And yet she had a vague dread of the dreariness and emptiness of a world +in which he no longer lived and moved, and doubted her power to adapt +herself to its strangeness. She knew, or she tried to believe, that +good would come out of it all even to her, and when she came to this she +always remembered her aunt. + +It had been by "kissing the rod" under such discipline as this that her +aunt, after long, patient years, had grown to be the best, the most +unselfish woman that she knew; yes, and the wisest with the highest +wisdom. + +Sometimes she had said to herself and to others, that she meant to grow +to be such a woman as her aunt, and so take up her work in the world +when it should be time for her to lay it down. And now, perhaps, the +Lord was taking her at her word, and was about to prepare her for His +own work, in His own way, which must be best; and she tried to be glad +that it should be so. But when she looked on to the life that lay +before her, her heart sank at the length of the way. + +"I am not like Aunt Jean. I am not good enough to get her work to do, +and to take pleasure in it. Maybe after long years I might be able to +do it. If I only had the heart to care for any thing any more! + +"But I must be patient. The pain is new and sore yet, but time heals +most wounds, and as auntie says, `The Lord is ay kind.'" + +This was her last thought most nights; but there were times when she +could not get beyond the darkness, and lay lost and helpless till the +morning. Then she put aside her own pain, and grew cheerful and hopeful +for the sake of others. If she came to the task with white cheeks and +heavy eyes, as happened now and then, no one wondered, or indeed noticed +it much, for she was none the less ready with cheerful words and kindly +deeds for the comfort of them all. + +CHAPTER TWENTY SIX. + +SAFETY. + +And so the nights passed and the long days, and even Jean's heart sprang +up to meet the next news that came. + +The ship "Ben Nevis," Captain Calderwood, supposed to be lost, had been +spoken at sea by a vessel homeward bound. Her latitude and longitude +were given, and it was said that considering her condition, she had made +good progress since the time her boats had left her. She lay low in the +water and laboured heavily, but her captain and crew were in good heart, +and with fair wind and such weather as they might hope for now, they +were sure soon to reach an English harbour. + +So hopes were raised and courage renewed. Mrs Calderwood would fain +have remained in London to meet her son when he came; but the time of +his coming was uncertain, and he might even put in to some nearer port, +and her daughter needed her. So she returned home to Portie with George +again. + +And when they came it was to find Marion the joyful mother of a son. +The news had been duly telegraphed to London as soon as possible after +the event, but they had left before that time. It was Mr Dawson +himself who met them at the station with the news, and passing by George +without a word, it was to Mrs Calderwood that he told it with a +trembling but triumphant voice. There were tears in the eyes that she +had always thought so cold and hard, and these tears washed away the +last touch of pained and angry feeling from the heart of the mother of +poor dead Elsie. + +If any thing could have added to the old man's pride and delight in his +grandson, the fact that he had drawn his first breath in Saughleas would +have done so. Not that either his pride or his delight was made very +evident to the world in general. He answered inquiries and accepted +congratulations with as much composure as was compatible with the +satisfaction that the occasion warranted, it was thought, and perhaps +with rather more. But even the world in general began to acknowledge +that he was growing to have gender and more kindly ways than he had once +had, and folk agreed with Mrs Cairnie, that it had done him good to get +his own will. + +As for George, he took his new happiness soberly enough to all outward +appearance. There was still so much anxiety as to the fate of the "Ben +Nevis" as to temper the joy of the young father and mother over their +firstborn, and to make them quiet and grave in the midst of it. But +their hopes for their brother and those who had stayed with him were +stronger than their fears, and even Mrs Calderwood took heart and did +not shrink from the hearing of her son's name. Her care for her +daughter and her grandson left her little time to brood over her fears, +and she felt that to do so, would be "to sin against her mercies," since +her daughter had been spared to her and was growing stronger every day. + +As Marion grew strong, and Mrs Calderwood devoted herself to her, Jean +had more time for herself, spent much of it in the wood or on the shore, +or in her aunt's parlour, which, during those days, she found to be as +good a place as either the wood or the shore for the indulgence of her +own thoughts. For Miss Jean troubled her with few words; but sat +silent, seeing without seeming to see, that all was not well with her +niece. + +It was a rest for Jean to sit there in the quiet room, and it is not to +be wondered at that there were times when she forgot to keep guard over +her face, as even before her aunt she had done of late. At such times +her aunt regarded her anxiously. She had become thin and white, and her +eyes had grown large and wistful; as her mother's eyes had been, before +she had resigned herself to the knowledge that she must leave them all. + +"A word or two might do her good, if I could ken the right word to say," +thought Miss Jean, as she sat one day watching the stooping figure and +averted face. The suspense about the "Ben Nevis" would soon be over, +but Miss Jean's thought was that the ending of this suspense would not +be the ending of her bairn's troubles. However her first words turned +that way. + +"It canna be long ere we hear now." + +"No. It canna be long," said Jean, recalling her thoughts and taking up +her work again. + +"And they all seem to be in good heart about the ship. They may come +any day. It has been a long time of suspense to his mother, and to us +all." + +"Yes. It has been a long time." + +"It will soon be over now in one way or another. And even if he should +never come, it will only be like a longer voyage, that will be sure to +have a happy ending in a peaceful haven, where the mother and son are +sure to meet." + +"And she will have him for her own at last." + +Neither spoke for a long time after this. Jean's head drooped lower, +and though her eyes were on the sea, it was not the harbour of Portie +that she saw, but a wide waste of ocean with a labouring ship, making +for her desired haven, it might be, but bringing no one home to her. +She rose and moved restlessly about the room. + +"I wish you were able to go for a little walk, auntie. Dinna ye think +it might do ye good to take a turn or two up and down by the sea?" + +"No' the day, my dear. But if ye would like to go out, never heed me. +I think myself that a walk would do you good, or a fine long seam, such +as your mother used to give you to do, when your restlessness was ower +muckle for yourself and others. But the walk would be more to your +mind, I dare say." Jean laughed. + +"But then, I have the long seam ready to my hands," said she, sitting +down again and taking up her work resolutely. By and by, when she +forgot it and her face was turned seaward again, her aunt laid down hers +also and said softly, with a certain hesitation,-- + +"Jean, my dear, did you and Willie Calderwood part friends?" + +Jean sat absolutely motionless for a minute or two. "Yes, aunt, we were +friends always. As to parting--" + +"Weel--as to parting?" + +"We had no parting. He went away without a word." + +"That was hardly like a friend on his part," said Miss Jean gravely, and +then in a little she added,-- + +"And, Jean, love, were ye never mair than friends?" Then Jean rose, and +turning looked straight in her aunt's face. + +"No. Never more than friends. You surely havena been thinking ill +thoughts of Willie, auntie?" + +"That's nae likely. But whiles I ha'e wondered--and now that he is +coming hame--" Jean stood a moment irresolute, and then coming forward +she sat down on a hassock at her aunt's feet, as she often did, and +leaned her head upon her hand. + +"Jean, my dear, have ye nothing to say to me?" + +"No, aunt. There is nothing. I have no more right to grieve or to be +glad for Willie Calderwood than any one of his many friends in Portie." + +"Grief or gladness is whiles no' a question o' rights," said Miss Jean +gently. + +Jean said nothing. She was too weary and spent to be very angry with +herself for the weakness which had betrayed her secret. But she had +strength and courage to shut her lips on the words that rose to them. +And before her aunt had time for another word they heard Mrs Calderwood +speaking to Nannie at the door. Except for a sudden bright colour that +had risen to her cheeks, Jean was just as usual when she came in. + +"There's nae news?" said Miss Jean. + +This had long been her first salutation to any one coming in. + +"No, there is nothing more," said Mrs Calderwood. + +"Weel, we maun just have patience." + +Jean brought forward an easy chair for her aunt's friend, and carried +out some tea for Nannie to make a cup to refresh her after her walk. +But she did not sit down again. + +"I'll go now. I have something to get in the town. Shall I come round +this way again, Mrs Calderwood, so that we may walk home together? or +will it be too long for you to wait?" + +It would not be too long. There was no haste, Mrs Calderwood said. +George had gone home already and was to take Marion out for a little +while, and they might come round this way to get a sight of Miss Jean. +So Jean promised to return, and then she went out, not quite knowing +where she was to go, or what she was to do. But it was settled for her. +For as she turned into the High-street she met her father. + +"I was going to your aunt's to say that I am going to John Stott's. I +canna say just when I may be home, and you are not to wait for me." + +"Is John worse, papa? Let me go with you. I needna go into the house." + +"I doubt he is near as bad as he can be, and be living. I doubt it is +ower far." + +"Ower far! No' for me, if it's no' ower far for you. And I have +nothing to do that canna be put off. And it is a long time since we +have had a walk together." + +So, well pleased, they set out John Stott was a labourer who had long +been in Mr Dawson's employment. He had been for days ill with fever, +and was now supposed to be dying. They spoke of him a little, and of +the helpless family he would leave, and of the best manner of helping +them without making their help seem like alms. For John had long been a +faithful servant, and Mr Dawson meant to set his heart at rest about +those, he was leaving; indeed this was the reason of his visit at this +time. + +Then after a little he spoke, not quite so hopefully as usual about the +"Ben Nevis," saying they must hear soon now, or they would have to give +her up altogether. Then he went on to say how well it was that Marion +had grown so strong before any particular excitement either of joy or +pain had come to disturb her. + +"She is very well," said Jean. "George is going to take her out in the +pony carriage this afternoon, her mother told us. I left her at Aunt +Jean's." + +"I doubt that is venturesome of him. I hope he'll take the best of the +afternoon to it. And that is near over already. He'll be thinking of +taking her back to the High-street again, I suppose," said he +discontentedly, "unless we can persuade them to bide at Saughleas +altogether." + +Jean was silent a minute or two. + +"There are just two things that would be likely to prevent them," said +she. + +"Weel, let us hear of them." + +"One is that except for a while, Mrs Calderwood would not easily be +persuaded to think of Saughleas as her home; and both George and Marion +wish her to remain with them." + +"Which is but right. George is no' a man to let himself be vexed with +his mother-in-law, even were she a more difficult person. But why +should she not live with them at Saughleas?" + +But as he asked the question he saw that such a thing would seem +impossible to Mrs Calderwood. It was not a matter for discussion, +however. + +"And what is the other reason?" + +"It is not a very good reason. Both George and Marion think that I +should be the mistress of Saughleas, while I am there. They think, and +other folk think, that I would not like to--to be set aside. And I +might not like it. But if it were the best way for all, my not liking +it would be a small matter." + +Mr Dawson muttered impatiently,-- + +"Ay. It's ay said that twa women canna agree in the same house. But I +think, Jean, ye might show them something else. I'm sure Marion wouldna +be ill to live with." + +"It is not a matter of agreement or disagreement, papa. There cannot be +two mistresses in any house with comfort to, any one concerned. And +there need not be two if Marion were willing. And if I were not there +she would fall naturally into her right place. I might go away for a +little while, papa, and when I came back I might fall into the second +place, and make no work about it. Or I might bide with Auntie Jean." + +"Nonsense! Bide with Auntie Jean, indeed! If you were going to a house +of your ain, it might do. But good and dear as Marion is, I could ill +bear to see you put out of your place in your father's house, even for +her." + +"Yes, if I cared, papa. I might once when I was younger. But I dinna +think that I could care much now." + +Mr Dawson looked at her curiously, but Jean's eyes were turned away to +the sea. + +"But even if that were the best way--which I am far from thinking--there +is ay Mrs Calderwood and her wishes to be considered. I doubt we'll +just need to let them go." + +"But I think--and Aunt Jean thinks--which is more to the purpose--that +Mrs Calderwood would hardly content herself in her daughter's house +wherever it was, for a continuance. I mean that she would rather be in +a home of her own. That might be got over." + +There was silence between them for some time, and then Jean said with +more earnestness than she had shown yet,-- + +"Papa, will you let me tell you just what I would like? I would like +you to give me the house in the High-street for a present--as a part of +my portion--just as if I were to be married, ye ken. And then I would +persuade my aunt and Mrs Calderwood to live there together. And by and +by when I grow old--and have not you any longer, I could live there +myself." + +Mr Dawson listened to her with mingled feelings, but he said quietly, +"What would two women folk, seeing little company, do with a big house +like that? And you could never persuade them." + +"But they would see company more or less, and have folk coming for the +summer. And the house is not so very big, and none too good for the +`auld laird's' sister, and the `young laird's' mother. And I think I +could persuade them. And if this were all settled George would be +content to bide with you at Saughleas. And I could--come and go." + +"Jean," said her father gravely, "why do you ay speak as if you were +never to have a house of your own? I'm no' pleased to hear you." + +"But, papa, I never do. That is what I am wanting--a house of my own-- +sometime--not just yet." + +"But I am not thinking of such a home as ye could make to yourself in +the house in the High-street, but of something quite different." Jean +laughed. "I canna help it, papa." + +"But ye might have helped it." + +"No, papa, I never could yet." + +"Weel! weel! We'll say nae mair about it. It's nae ower late yet. We +maun ha'e patience, I suppose." + +Though Jean laughed her face grew strangely grave and sad, her father +thought, as they went on in silence together. + +"You might think about it, papa, and speak to Aunt Jean about it. I +should never feel safe or happy to be long away from Portie, unless +there were some one ay with Aunt Jean. And I think that she and +Marion's mother would suit one another as no one else would suit either +of them. They would be busy and happy together, and I should feel safe +about my aunt wherever I might be." + +"But why should you speak as if you were not to be here? Why should you +go away?" + +"Only for a little while, papa. And then George and Marion would stay. +And it is not for that altogether. I would like to go a while for my +own sake. I think I need a change." + +"Are ye no' weel?" said her father in some surprise. + +"Oh! I am well enough; but I would like to go away for a little. I am +tired, I think. We have been anxious, you know, especially when George +and Mrs Calderwood were away. And I think I am wearying for a sight of +May and the bairns. I know a change would be good for me, for a little, +I mean." + +She spoke with some difficulty, and the colour was coming and going on +her cheek. Her father's surprise changed to anxiety as he regarded her. +He saw as her aunt had seen, that she had grown thin and pale, and that +her eyes looked large and anxious, like eyes that had slept little of +late. + +"What ails ye, my lassie? Ye're surely no' weel. If it's only May and +her bairns that ye're wanting, ye can easy get them. Only," continued +Mr Dawson after a little, "it might hardly look kind to go away now, +till the `Ben Nevis' has been heard from again." + +"No, I suppose not." + +"And if we shouldna hear--ye'll be needed all the more. Willie +Calderwood will be a hero to the seafaring folk o' Portie when he does +come. And I dare say ye'll like to see him as well as the rest." + +"Yes. It is long since I saw him." + +"If he brings the `Ben Nevis' safe to an English port, his reputation +will be established, and his fortune will be made. That is as far as a +mere sea captain can be said to be able to make a fortune by his +profession. He must be a man of great courage and strength of +character, as George says, even to have made the attempt to bring the +ship home. They may weel be proud of him,--his sister and his mother, +and we must do nothing that would seem to lichtlify him--neither you nor +me." + +Jean looked at her father in a strangely moved way which he remembered +afterwards, but she said nothing. + +"I mind ye were ay fond o' sea-heroes; and all his friends will need to +make much o' him when he wins safe home." + +They were drawing near the cottage by this time. Mr Dawson would not +let Jean go in because of the fever, and she sat down on the dyke at the +house end. But her father did not keep her waiting long. John had +fallen into a sleep which might be the saving of him yet, and must not +be disturbed, and promising, if it were possible, to see him to-morrow, +he came quickly out to Jean. + +They had little to say to each other as they turned homewards. Jean +acknowledged herself tired with her walk, and when she said she had +promised to go back again to her aunt's to walk home with Mrs +Calderwood, her father bade her wait there, and the pony carriage, when +George and Marion returned, should be sent for them both. + +Mr Dawson pursued his homeward way alone, but he had not gone very far +before he met a messenger and turned back again. + +"Good news! good news!" shouted young Robbie Saugster as soon as he was +within hearing distance. "The `Ben Nevis' is safe in port, and Captain +Calderwood is here in Portie, I saw him mysel' at the station, and I +told him that his mother was at Miss Jean's, and then I ran on to +Saughleas with the news; but there was naebody there to hear it but +Phemie and Ann. And I'm glad to see you, sir, anyway." + +"Good news!" That it was, well worth the half crown which Mr Dawson +put into the hand of the astonished laddie. He had heard no news so +good for many a day, he said, as he turned toward the town again. But +when he came to his sister's house, and went softly in, he was not so +sure of its being the best of news to him. + +For the first sight he saw was his daughter Jean lying on her aunt's +sofa with a face as white as death, and her bright hair tossed and wet +falling down to the floor. Leaning over her, but not touching so much +as a finger, was a sailor in rough sea clothes; and though he neither +moved nor spoke, there was no mistaking the tale told by his working +face and his eager eyes. Mrs Calderwood stood beside him with her hand +on his shoulder. + +"Willie," she entreated, "you must come away. She must not see you when +she comes to herself. She was startled, and you have no right--" + +"No, mother. I know I have no right--except that I have loved her all +my life--" + +"But you must come away. It is not fair to her. And think of her +father." + +"Yes. I have ay thought of him. Yes, mother, I will go with you," and +he stooped and touched, not with his fingers, but with his lips, the +shining braid of hair that hung down to the floor, and then he turned +and went out. + +It was hard on Mr Dawson. He had been more than anxious for the +sailor's return for his mother's sake and his sister's, as well as for +his own, and he had meant to give him the best of friendly welcomes. +But now what was this he saw? + +Astonishment was his first feeling. He had never once thought of these +two in this way, at least he had not for a long time. Then he was +angry. Had Jean been deceiving him all this time. But his anger was +only momentary. He knew his daughter too well to believe that possible. +He knew not what to think, except that his welcome to the sailor was +not so ready as it would have been an hour ago. + +Fortunately it was not called for at the moment, for Captain Calderwood +turned into Nannie's kitchen and went out the other way without seeing +him. + +Seldom in his life had the old man been so startled. Instead of going +into the house, he turned down to the pier to consider the matter. He +had not much comfort in that. As he turned again into the High-street, +he heard the sound of voices far up in the square, and as he went on, he +caught sight of his own low carriage standing in the midst of what +seemed a crowd of people, not waiting there quietly, but eager and +excited, over something which had pleased them well. + +And could it be possible? In the carriage sat his daughter-in-law with +his grandson on her lap. He knew that he was angry then, and he pushed +his way forward intending to say so plainly, and to put an end to all +this, at least as far as she was concerned. + +But when he drew nearer, and Marion, with the tears running over her +smiling face, stretched out both hands to him over her son, claiming his +sympathy in the great joy that had come to her, somehow he forgot his +anger and shook her hands kindly and joyfully; yes, and kissed her there +before all the folk, to their intense amazement and delight. + +It had not been at Marion that he had been angry. And he had not even +the excuse of danger for his anger, for young Robbie Saugster had placed +himself at the heads of the ponies, and there was not the slightest +danger of their running away. + +And when he had time to look about him, there was half the folk in +Portie assembled to welcome the returned sailor, and in the midst of +them stood George, with his arm laid across the shoulders of his friend. +It was something to see these two faces--the one fair, smiling, +noble,--the other no less noble, but brown and weatherbeaten, and with a +cloud upon it, notwithstanding all the joy of home coming. They were +brothers in heart, he saw that, whatever might befall. Before he could +make up his mind to push his way toward them, a hush fell on the crowd. +Captain Calderwood was making a speech. + +It was not much of a speech that Captain Calderwood made, however. + +He had only done his duty, he said, as nobody knew better than the +seafaring folk of Portie, every one of whom would have done the same in +his place, if they had seen the same reason. He was glad to be safe +home again with his ship and cargo, and not a life lost, and he was +proud of the welcome they were giving him--for there was no place like +Portie to him, and no folk like the folk of Portie whom he had known all +his life. + +That was all. But George made a speech, and said just enough and no +more--"as he ay does," his proud father thought as he listened. + +Still standing with his hand on his friend's shoulder he said a few +words about what Captain Calderwood had done. He could not tell them +the story, because he had heard nothing as yet, more than the rest. But +he knew as well as if he had been told, how all things had been ordered +on board of the "Ben Nevis," both before the storm and after it, because +he knew Captain Calderwood. + +He had done his duty. That was all. But he need not tell the men of +Portie--the Saugsters and the Cairnies, the Smiths and the Watts, the +Bruces and the Barnets, who had had sailors among their kin longer ago +than the oldest of them could mind--what duty meant to a sailor. + +It meant to him, whiles, what heroism meant to other folk. It meant +courage to face danger, patience undying through want and weariness and +waiting, cheerful endurance through wakeful nights and toilsome days, +and long banishment from friends and home. + +It meant to the master, a power to command himself, as well as his men; +it meant skill and will, and wisdom to act, and strength to bear up +under the terrible responsibility of holding in his hand other men's +lives, no one but him coming between them and God. + +To the men it meant obedience, entire and unquestioning, sometimes, +alas! to unreasonable commands--to tyranny to which, in the hands of +evil men, unrestrained power might easily degenerate. It meant to all +and each--to master and to man--a taking his life in his hand--a daily +and nightly facing of death--ay, and of suffering death. It might mean +that to some of their own, now far away. It might have meant that to +Captain Calderwood, for instead of coming home with ship and cargo safe +and with not a life lost, he might have given his own life in doing his +duty, as his father had done before him, and his grandfather, as all the +men of Portie knew. + +"And is he less a hero to us to-day because he has only done his duty? +And if instead of having him here among us to-day--to fill with joy and +pride every sailor's heart in Portie--there had come to us from the sea, +first a vague and awful rumour of danger and loss, and then one or other +of the tokens that have come to some here--a spar, a broken piece of the +ship, a word or two written beneath the very eyes and touch of death-- +would he not have been a hero to us then? And all the more, that having +no thought of what men's eyes might see in his deeds, or men's tongues +tell of them, he had lived through the violence of the tempest, and +through the lingering days of peril that followed, only to do his duty?" + +It was here that George's speech ought to have come to an end. It was +at this point that his father thought he had said "just enough and no +more." And it was here also that Willie shrugged his shoulders under +the hand that still rested lovingly on them as he muttered,-- + +"Hoot, man, Geordie! Cut it short." But the folk--who had listened in +a silence so absolute that the "click, click" of Mrs Cairnie's crutch +could be heard on the stone causeway--stirred a little and murmured, and +then waited for more. And George had more to give them. + +"And now, men of Portie--sailors and fishers--ay, and sutors and +saddlers, masons and merchants--every man among you, I have just one +word more to say to you all--but chiefly to you sailors. Willie here +has whispered two words in my ear, and one of them I'll give you. + +"Never through all that terrible storm that beat upon them, nor after +it, when the bitter thought that the ship must be forsaken was forced +upon them, nor during the long doubtful days--harder to bear--that +followed, when in the morning none could say whether hope or fear was to +win the day, or at night whether there was to be another day to them-- +through all that time, I say, not a man among them looked to the devil +for courage to dare his fate, or deaden his fears. There passed not the +lips of a man among them a drop of that which has lost more ships, and +broken more hearts, and beguiled more sailors from their duty, than you +and I, and all here could count in a day." + +"Is that so, Willie?" cried a voice from the crowd. "Ay, is it. And no +man here needs me to point the moral." + +Willie had had enough of it by this time. He would not be beguiled into +answering questions or telling tales. So he slipped his shoulder from +under George's hand and withdrew a little from him. + +But George did not move. He stood with glad eyes looking down on the +familiar faces of his townsfolk and with a sweet and kindly gravity +which was better to see than a smile, and when he lifted his hand, the +movement in the crowd and the murmur of talk that had risen were hushed. + +The last word had been from his friend. This was from himself. It was +only a word. It was not about the courage or skill or immovable +patience of the young commander that he spoke; but of something that lay +behind all these, and rose above them--the living belief in an eye that +saw him, in a hand that held him, in a will that controlled and guided +and kept him through all, and in a love and care that could avail in +shipwreck and loss; ay, in death itself. + +It was this living belief in the Lord above as a living Lord that had +stood him in such stead in those terrible days. + +"Was Willie _feared_, think ye?" said George, coming back to their +common speech in his earnestness. "Some o' ye ha'e come through, and +mair than aince, the terrors o' storm and threatened shipwreck, and ye +ha'e seen how strength and courage, and common humanity itself, whiles +fails before the blackness and darkness and tempest; and it's ilka ane +for himsel', be he master or man. + +"But, with this belief in a living Lord who has called Himself and +proved Himself friend and brother in one, was there danger of this to +Captain Calderwood and those whom he commanded? + +"Belief, said I? Nay, lads, who of us can doubt that the Lord Himself +stood by him, as He stood by Paul His servant at such another time, +giving him promise of life to them who saw only death waiting them. + +"Was Captain Calderwood afraid? Look ye at his clear eye, and take a +grip o' his steady hand, and hearken to what his men may have to say of +him, and ye'll ken that he came out of it all by other help and a better +strength than his own--a help and a strength that we a' need, on land +and sea, and that we can get for the seeking--as some o' ye ken better +than I can tell you--and may it be baith yours and mine when our time of +trouble shall come--" said George ending rather abruptly at last. + +CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN. + +AT LAST! + +"Grandpapa," whispered Marion, as her husband and her brother drew near, +"do you think there ever was so glad and proud a woman as I am +to-night?" + +He had not time to answer her, but he shook her brother's hand +cordially. + +"God bless ye, Willie, man. Welcome home." And for the moment he quite +forgot the shock which the first sight of the young man had given him. +It was only for a moment, however, and the remembrance of it brought a +cloud to his brow, and sharpened his voice as he said,-- + +"George, man, I think ye have been forgetting your wife with your +speech-making." + +George laughed. + +"She will forgive the first offence in that way, for the sake of the +occasion." + +"Weel, weel! haste ye home now for it's mair than time baith for her and +the bairn. No, ye'll go with her yourself I have sent Robbie Saugster +with the inn fly to your aunt's, and they'll all come out in it. And +I'm going to walk. I have a word to say to Captain Calderwood. Not +go?" added the old man sharply as a look of hesitation and doubt passed +over Willie's face. "Where on earth should you go but to your ain +sister's house? It's hers while she's in it, and so it's yours, to say +nothing o' George there, who surely is your friend and brother, whatever +ye may ca' me." + +And as Captain Calderwood had something to say to him also, they set off +together. But they walked half the distance before either uttered a +word. Willie waited for Mr Dawson to speak, and he, remembering that +no one bad seen him at his sister's house, was at a loss how to begin. +But when they came in sight of Saughleas, Captain Calderwood paused. + +"Mr Dawson, I must say a word to you now, or I shall be taking a +welcome from you under false pretences. I love your daughter. I have +loved her all my life." + +Here was an opening with a vengeance! + +"And what says she to that?" asked Mr Dawson grimly. + +"I have never spoken a word to her. May I speak to her now?" + +"And how was that--since it's been all your life?" said Mr Dawson +ignoring the question. + +"There were reasons enough. I was only the mate of the `John Seaton,' +and she was the young lady of Saughleas. And I had promised my mother +that I would never even look my love without your sanction. Afterwards +there were other reasons as well." + +"I dare say ye may have a guess as to what her answer might be?" + +"Mr Dawson, give me your leave to ask her. I have not seen her for +years. Yes, I have seen her--but she has not seen me, and we have not +spoken a word to each other, since the day before May's marriage." + +"And I mind ye left in a hurry. Did she send ye awa'?" + +"No. I did not speak to her; but if I had stayed I must have spoken. +And what would you have thought of my pretensions beside those of +Captain Harefield? And indeed, I knew well that, except for my love of +her, I wasna her equal. So I said, I will forget her and I went away?" + +"That's a long time since. And ye have never seen her again?" + +"Yes. I have seen her. I saw her once in the Park riding with her +brother and Captain Harefield, and I saw her looking at the pictures +among all the great folk, and I used to see her whiles, playing in the +garden with her sister's bairns." + +"And that was the way ye took to forget her?" said Mr Dawson dryly. + +"No. I had given that up as impossible. That was the way I took to +teach myself the folly of remembering her." + +"And what has happened to make it less like folly now?" + +"Well," said Captain Calderwood after a pause, "the first gleam of hope +I got was when Sir Percy Harefield proposed to take ship with me on the +`Ben Nevis.' He has gotten his answer, I thought. And I vowed that if +ever I came home again I would speak to you--" + +"Jean is of age, and in a sense her own mistress. She could do as she +pleased, even if I were to refuse you." + +"I shall never speak to her unless I have your full and free consent." + +It was queer, Mr Dawson thought George had said the same to him about +Marion, and had meant it too, as possibly this young man meant it also. +He cast a sidelong glance at the strong, grave face beside him. It had +grown white through all its healthy brown. + +"Curious!" thought Mr Dawson. "Now, I dare say that didna happen in +the very face o' the tempest. Surely a love that has lasted all his +life must be a good thing for any woman to have." + +But all the same he wished with all his heart that he could refuse to +let him speak. Not that he had any special fear of Jean. She would +surely have given some token during all these years, if her fancy had +turned to Willie Calderwood. But he had returned a hero--"in a small +way," as Mr Dawson put it, and young lassies are so open to impressions +of that kind. And the lad was every inch a man, that could not be +denied. + +"I ken well she might look higher. Who is worthy of her?" said Willie +humbly. + +"It teems to me ye can ken little about her," said Mr Dawson irritably. +"There's George now, what says he? He kens all this, doubtless?" + +"He kens, doubtless," repeated Willie gravely. "But his sister's name +has never been named between us--in that way." + +So the father had not even that excuse for vexation. He had no excuse. +The young man was acting honourably in the matter, and he told himself +that he was not afraid about Jean's answer. And yet in his secret heart +he was a little afraid. They had come to the gate by this time. + +"Mr Dawson, do you bid me come into your house, after what I have told +you?" + +"Bid ye come in! And your sister waiting for you at the door, and your +friend and brother as weel! I would hardly venture in myself without +you. And indeed I welcome you heartily to my house, for your own sake +as well as theirs. And as to--that other matter--we'll say nae mair +about that the nicht." + +With this the young man was obliged to content himself George's eyes +were full of questions, but his lips uttered not one as he took him to +his room, to supply all that had been left in the bag forgotten in the +town. Before they came down again the fly had crept up to the door, but +there was no one waiting for them in the hall except Miss Jean, and she +was ready with a second welcome. + +"It is good to see ye here, Willie," said she as they went into the +parlour together. + +Jean had gone straight to the dining-room, and her father heard her +there giving orders to Phemie in her usual voice. By and by she came +out, carrying her head high--"the young lady of Saughleas" indeed; and +Mr Dawson smiled at his fears as she came slowly toward him. She went +up the long room in the same stately way, holding out her hand and +saying gravely,-- + +"You are welcome home, Captain Calderwood." + +But when they looked into each other's faces--these two who had been +strangers so long--how it all happened cannot be told. Did he clasp her +to him? or did she lay her head upon his breast? + +It was only amazement that the father felt at first. No one knew less +than he did himself whether he was glad or sorry at the sight. And then +Miss Jean came over to him with slow soft steps, and they went out +together. + +"George," said she gently, "I think I might say that I have nothing else +to wish for here, if I were sure that this didna trouble you." + +"It canna be helpit, it seems, whether or no," said he, but he let her +take his hand, and his eyes looked soft and kindly. + +George and Marion came in at the moment and made a diversion. + +"Are ye no' ower weary to be down again, my dear?" said Mr Dawson. "Ye +ha'e had an afternoon of exertion and excitement, and ye maun mind that +ye ha'e anither dependin' on ye now." + +"Tired! Do I look tired?" said Marion. + +Certainly there was no sign of fatigue in the bright face of the young +mother as she came smiling toward him. + +"Weel, then, George, ye'll bring in your aunt and Mrs Calderwood. The +dinner has waited long, and it shall wait no longer." And he gave his +arm to Marion as he spoke. + +"My dear," said he, leading her to Jean's place at the head of the +table, "sit ye here, for I doubt Jean will want little dinner the day." +And it was Marion's seat ever after. + +"Has any thing happened to Jean?" said Marion. "Nothing is wrong, I +hope." + +"Nothing that can be helpit, I doubt. Ye'll hear in time, I dare say." +And then he nodded to Mrs Calderwood who had grown very white. + +"Ay, it's the old way. I doubt your Willie is thinking as little of you +as my Jean is of me at this moment. But we'll take our dinner anyway." + +Mrs Calderwood sat down without a word. It was an awkward hour for +every one of them, though Miss Jean and her nephew did what they could +to keep up conversation for them all. It was all the more so for Mr +Dawson, that he was not sure what his own feelings were or ought to be. +He sat hardly hearing what was said, though he put in a word now and +then, but all the time he was thinking,-- + +"If any one had said to me four years since that the widow Calderwood's +daughter would be sitting at the head of my table, and that I should be +glad to see her there, would I have believed it? And her mother too, +the very sight o' whose widow's cap used to anger me in the kirk itself. +As for Jean, my sister, I ay ken when she's pleased, though she says +nothing. And George too, though I dare say he's sorry for me, and will +say no word to his friend, till I give him leave--as I maun do now, I +suppose, whether I'm pleased or no'." + +But Mr Dawson was less displeased than he supposed himself to be. He +had been taken utterly by surprise, which was never agreeable to him, +even when the surprise was a pleasant one. And it came to him with a +feeling of comfort that neither his sister nor his son was likely to +make a mistake, and be glad for the wrong thing where Jean was +concerned. But it was a long hour to him, and when it was over he went +away as his custom was for a while's peace to his own peculiar domain. + +And here after a little Jean found him. She went in, feeling very much +as she used to feel long ago, when some piece of girlish mischief more +than usually serious, made her conscious of meriting a rebuke from her +father. + +She had been upstairs since she came home, and now wore one of her +prettiest gowns, as befitted the occasion, and she had put a rose in her +hair, which had not happened for a long time; and when her father turned +at the sound of her voice, he saw as fair and sweet a daughter as ever +gladdened a father's heart. + +She had always been fair and sweet, but there was a new look in her face +to-day. Her eyes fell before his; but he knew it was rather to veil the +happiness that shone in them, than to hide the shyness which made it not +easy for her to look up. His heart could not but grow soft as he +looked. + +"Were you wanting me, papa?" said Jean, feeling more and more like the +childish culprit that was to be chidden first and then forgiven. Mr +Dawson himself thought of those days, when his hardest words to Jean +were sure to end gently, as he bade her be a good lassie and go to her +mother. But he did not let the softness pass into his look or his voice +as he said,-- + +"What is this that I have been hearing of you, Jean?" + +"Are ye very angry, papa? I couldna help it." + +"Dinna ye think I have a right to be angry, hearing such a tale after +all these years?" + +"But, papa, I didna ken. I thought he had forgotten me, and whiles I +wasna sore that he had ever cared; and, papa, nothing has been said even +yet." Mr Dawson laughed. + +"And ye wouldna have broken your heart, even if this confident sailor +had never come home?" + +"No, papa. I don't think it. There is always plenty of work in the +world, and I would have tried to do my share, as Auntie Jean has done. +I should not have broken my heart, but--you are not very angry, papa?" + +"My dear, my anger is neither here nor there. Ye are your ain mistress +now, and can do as you please without asking my leave." + +Jean went white as she listened, and sat suddenly down, gazing at him +with wide, startled eyes. She had expected her father to be +disappointed, perhaps angry, but she had expected nothing so terrible as +this. + +"Papa," she said, rising and coming a step nearer, "nothing can happen +without your full and free consent. If you cannot give it, you must +send--Captain Calderwood away--" + +"They have all said that," said Mr Dawson to himself. Aloud he said +with a dubious smile, "And ye'll promise no' to break your heart about +him yet?" But his eyes softened wonderfully as he looked at her. +"Papa," said Jean laying her hand on his shoulder as she stood a little +behind him, "we love one another dearly. And you ay liked Willie, papa, +and so did--mamma." + +"My dear, I like him well. But have you thought of all you will have to +bear as a sailor's wife?--the anxiety and suspense, the long, long +waiting, and--" + +"But, papa, I should have that anyway. I _have_ had it, though--" + +"My dear, ye little ken. And it might have been so different with you?" + +"No, papa. It never could have been different. I wouldna have broken +my heart, but I could never have cared for any one else." + +A knock at the door prevented any thing more, and in answer to Mr +Dawson's voice Captain Calderwood entered. + +"I beg your pardon, Mr Dawson. I thought you were alone," said he in +some embarrassment. + +"Come awa' in," said Mr Dawson. "I thought, my lad, there was nothing +more to be said the nicht?" + +"And so did I. And indeed there has been little said as yet." + +Mr Dawson laughed uneasily. No one was less fitted to act the part of +the mollified father at the last moment, and he felt quite as little at +his ease as either of them. But he could not but look with pride and +pleasure on the handsome pair. + +"I doubt there is little more that need be said." + +"Only a single word from you, sir. I know as well as you that I am not +worthy of her, but man and boy I have loved her all my life." + +Mr Dawson had risen and Jean's face was hidden on his shoulder. He +raised her face and kissed her, saying softly,-- + +"I doubt the word is with Jean now." + +It is possible that even now Mr Dawson might have resented a triumphant +claiming of Jean on her lover's part. But he only smiled, well pleased +when the young man bowed his handsome head and kissed her hand as if it +had been the hand of a royal princess. And then he sent them away to be +congratulated by Aunt Jean and the rest. + +"And if they are any of them more surprised at my consent than I am +myself, it will be strange," said he to himself as he sat down again, +not sure even yet that he was not displeased, or at least disappointed +still. But by the time he heard the slow unequal steps of his sister +coming, as was her custom when any thing more than usual was going on, +for a word or two with him before she went to her bed, he was able to +receive her softly spoken congratulations cheerfully enough. + +She did not use many words; for she had an intuitive knowledge that some +of her brother's thoughts about this matter had better not be uttered. +But there was no mistaking the grave gladness of her face, and it came +into her brother's mind that his sister's thoughts about most things +were such as usually commended themselves to him in the end. + +As for the others to whom Captain Calderwood after a little conducted +his promised wife, none of them except Marion confessed to surprise, and +none of them seemed to share the old man's doubt as to whether it was +matter for rejoicing or no. Jean's first glance at Mrs Calderwood was +a little wistful and beseeching, as though she were not quite sure of a +daughter's welcome. But two or three low spoken words set that at rest +forever. Captain Calderwood's doubtful looks were cast on Miss Jean. + +"I ken weel I'm no worthy of her, auntie," he said. + +"Ah! weel!--if she thinks it--that is the main thing," said Miss Jean. + +"My friend, and twice my brother," was all George said to him. And to +Jean he said softly, "Happy woman?" and that was all. + +Not a soul in Portie but had something to say about them on the +occasion. Every body was surprised at the first announcement of the +news, though afterwards there were two or three who had had, they said, +an inkling of it all along. There was a whisper among the fine folk in +the High-street which implied that Miss Dawson might have laid herself +open to the suspicion of having "passed through the wood to find a +crooked stick at the last." But even in the High-street no one ventured +to say it aloud. For the handsome sailor, though he was not a rich man, +was as good as the best of them, even in their own partial opinion. + +It was a grand ending to Captain Calderwood's romance of the sea in the +opinion of all the seafaring folk of the town. The hand of the best and +bonniest lass in Portie was a suitable reward for the hero. And when it +was whispered that they "had ay cared for one another since they were +bairns together" the tokens of the general approbation were given with +enthusiasm. + +"And that is an end o' the twa Miss Jeans. But it's o' George Dawson +himsel' that I'm ay thinkin'," said Mrs Cairnie to all who would listen +to her. "As for auld Miss Jean--her consent was what ye would expect. +She was ay soft-hearted, and she has had an experience o' her ain. But +as for auld George!--" + +But even Mrs Cairnie owned that if he was not satisfied with the +prospects of his daughter, "ye wouldna ken it by him." And Mr James +Petrie, who watched him closely, and had better opportunities, said the +same, and so did Portie generally. + +One token of his satisfaction was of a kind that all Portie could +appreciate, though those chiefly concerned would gladly have dispensed +with it. He insisted on a grand wedding, and as Captain Calderwood's +time was limited, the wedding had to be hastened, and there was some +dismay at Saughleas at the thought of it. But May, who agreed with her +father heartily on this point, came down, and took the matter into her +own hands, and distinguished herself on the occasion. + +It was a grand wedding. There were many guests and many gifts, and it +must be confessed many opinions entertained, though not expressed, as to +the wisdom of the marriage. But no one ventured to hint that the +wedding itself was not a splendid success. + +Strangely enough, Sir Percy Harefield was there and his sister. They +were visitors at Blackford again. Mrs Eastwood looked with silent and +rather scornful amazement on the girl who had slighted all that her +brother had to offer, and who was now giving herself to this--sailor. + +Even Mrs Eastwood could not look at Captain Calderwood on his wedding +morning and join any contemptuous term to his name. He was like a young +sea king among them all, she acknowledged; and he was a hero, it seemed, +to these quaint northern folk that made his world. With a dim +remembrance of her own youthful dreams, she acknowledged that perhaps, +after all, Miss Dawson's choice was not so surprising; and even her love +and admiration for her brother could not make her blind to the contrast +which the two men made. But she was scornful of Jean's choice all the +same. + +Sir Percy was scornful of no one, but friendly and admiring, though a +little heavy and dull, among so many gay folk. But he presented the +bride with an elegant bracelet and bore no malice. He offered his +congratulations to both bridegroom and bride with sufficient heartiness, +and not even his sister could tell whether any painful sense of regret +touched his heart that day. + +One good thing came out of the grand wedding. There were guests from +far and near, and among the rest--as one of the bridesmaids--came pretty +Emily Corbett. Not the slip of a lassie who had clambered over the +rocks and run about the sands with her little brother and sister and the +rest of the bairns that happy summer long ago, but a stately young +Englishwoman, tall and fair and wise. + +In her presence Mr James Petrie forgot several things, and among the +rest, his father's pawky hints about Miss Langrigs and her tocher, which +were to be had for the asking, as he thought. And despite many +prophecies to the contrary, James married for love a portionless bride, +and was made a man of by the doing it. + +The "young sea king" and his bride had a few days among the Highland +hills, and a few days more among the English lakes. But the real +"wedding journey" was made in the "Ben Nevis." They sailed away +together into a new summer beneath Southern skies, and Jean got a +glimpse of a new world full of wonders to her untravelled eyes. + +Happily both voyages were as peaceful and pleasant as the last had been +tempestuous, and nothing happened to darken a single hour of that happy +time. Through the quiet of the soft sunny days, and the glory of nights +made beautiful by the light of unfamiliar stars, these two young people, +who had been for the last five years almost as strangers to each other, +renewed their acquaintance, and indeed grew into a truer and deeper +knowledge of each other than years of common life might have brought +them, and before the happy outward voyage was over, there mingled with +Jean's love for her husband the reverence which no true heart can +withhold from the man "who is good before God." + +It was not a full experience of sea life which his wife had got, Captain +Calderwood owned, but this was less to be regretted, that she looked +forward to many another voyage in the years that were before them. In +the mean time she came home to her own house in the High-street where +Miss Jean and Mrs Calderwood had been living together all this time. +It was her home and theirs for many a happy year, and other homes in +Portie were made happier through the happiness of theirs. + +Jean had much work laid to her hand in her own home as the years went +on, and she found also something to do beyond it. She was her father's +almoner to many a widow and orphan child in Portie; and she helped her +brother with higher work than her father's almsgiving. + +Through her Miss Jean enjoyed in her last days, that which had made the +happiness of her life for many years--the ministry of love to the +"stranger," the "naked," the "sick, and in prison," for His sake who +said, "Inasmuch as ye did it to the least of these, ye did it unto me." + +And her experience as a sailor's wife and the mother of children, did +not make her less fit for this work, but more. It made her wise to +understand, and strong to help other sailors' wives in their time of +need, and firm as well as tender in her dealings with many a child whom +the cruel sea made fatherless. + +And to many "puir auld bodies," who had forgotten the events of +yesterday, and last year, and of many a long year besides; and had come +in their second childhood to live over the days of their youth again, +the help and comfort which made their days of waiting a quiet rest, +before the last "flitting," still came to their belief as help and +comfort used to come through "The Twa Miss Jeans." + +------------------------------------------------------------------------ + +The End. + + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's The Twa Miss Dawsons, by Margaret Murray Robertson + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE TWA MISS DAWSONS *** + +***** This file should be named 38197.txt or 38197.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/3/8/1/9/38197/ + +Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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