Christine: A Fife Fisher Girl Part 18

This letter was not lover-like, but it was friendly, and sad. He said so much might have been, and yet nothing he longed for had happened.

He recalled tender little episodes, and declared they were the only memories he valued. The whole tone of the letter was the tone of a disappointed and hopeless man, to whom life had lost all its salt and savor. Christine read it carefully. She was determined not to deceive herself, and in a wakeful watch of the night, she went over it, and understood.

"There isna ony truth in it," she said to herself, "and I needna gie a thought to the lad's fine words. He is writing anent a made-up sorrow.

I'll warrant he is the gayest o' the gay, and that the memory o'

Christine is a little bit o' weariness to him. Weel, he has gi'en what he could buy--that's his way, and he will mak' in his way a deal o'

pleasure among the young la.s.ses." And the next day the bits of brilliant silk were sorted and a.s.signed, and then sent to the parties chosen, with the Ballister compliments. The affair made quite a stir in the cottages, and Angus would have been quite satisfied, if he could have heard the many complimentary things that the prettiest girls in Culraine said of him.

Two days before Christmas Day, Neil made his family a short visit. He was looking very well, was handsomely dressed, and had all the appearance and air of a man thoroughly satisfied with himself and his prospects. He only stayed a short afternoon, for his friend Reginald was waiting for him at the hotel, and he made a great deal of his friend Reginald.

"You should hae brought him along wi' you," said Margot, and Neil looked at Christine and answered--"I lost one friend, with bringing him here, and I am not a man who requires two lessons on any subject."

"Your friend had naething but kindness here, Neil," answered Christine, "and he isna o' your opinion." And then she told him of the Christmas presents sent from Rome.

"Exactly so! That is what I complain of. All these gifts to you and the villagers, were really taken from me. I have not been remembered.

Last Christmas I was first of all. A woman between two men always makes loss and trouble. I ought to have known that."

"Weel, Neil," said Margot, "there's other kindnesses you can think o'er."

"I have not had a single New Year's gift this year--yet. I suppose Reginald will not forget me. I have my little offering to him ready;"

and he took a small box from his pocket, and showed them a rather pretty pair of sleeve b.u.t.tons. "Yes, they are pretty," he commented, "rather more than I could afford, but Reginald will return the compliment. I dare say it will be the only one I shall receive."

"You ought not to forget, Neil," said Margot, in a not very amiable tone, "you ought to remember, that you had your New Year's gifts at Midsummer."

"Oh, I never forget that! I could not, if I would," he answered with an air of injury, and Christine to avert open disagreement, asked, "Where will you stay in Glasgow, Neil?"

"I shall stay with Reginald, at his sister's house. She lives in highly respectable style, at number twelve, Monteith Row. The row is a fine row o' stone houses, facing the famous Glasgow Green, and the Clyde river. She is a great beauty, and I expect to be the honored guest of the occasion."

"Will you hae time to hunt up your brithers in Glasgow? Some o' them will nae doubt be in port, and you might call at Allan's house, and tell them that little Jamie is doing fine."

"I do not expect I shall have a moment to spare. If I have, I will make inquiries. I think, however, Miss Rath is going to make rather a gay time in my honor, and I shall feel obligated to observe all its occasions."

"How old is Miss Rath?" asked Christine.

"I have never asked her age. I suppose she is over twenty, as she controls her own property."

"Happen you may lose your heart to her."

"O! I am not a man to lose anything so important."

"Weel, weel, you're nae wiser than the lave o' men, Neil."

"I think I am, Christine. At least, I have that reputation."

"Will you hae a cup o' tea, Neil?"

It was Christine who asked him, and he answered, "No. I had just finished a good lunch, when I came here, and Reginald said he should wait dinner for me. He orders very liberally, I must say," and he took out a new gold watch, and looked at the time.

His mother saw it at once, and glanced at Christine, who instantly followed an exclamation of wonder, by asking, "Whoever gave ye the bonnie timepiece, Neil?"

"I gave it to myself, Christine. I have been coaching Reginald, and two or three other students, and it's rather a paying business. I shall do a great deal in that way after the New Year. Well, I think I must be going."

"Your feyther will be hame within an hour. He'll hae our wonderfu'

bairn wi' him. You will surely stay and see them."

"You mean Allan's son?"

"Ay," answered Christine, "he's a beauty, and he is sae clever, we'll be needing a school, and the set o' teachers in it, to keep the lad within the proper scope o' knowledge. He's a maist remarkable boy!"

"I used to fill that position," said Neil.

"Not you," said Margot. "You were a puir weakling, every way. It took everyone's love and labor to bring you through. I'm not sure now, if you were worth it. It was scrimp and toil through long years for a'

the Rulesons."

"I am not ungrateful, Mother, and I shall no doubt win a high degree."

"We hae nae doubt you will, Neil. Dinna go as soon as you come.

Feyther will be here anon."

"I cannot keep Reginald waiting. I will try and see father as I return."

So he went, and mother and sister looked at each other, and were silent. Margot opened and shut a drawer in the dresser, pushed the chair in which Neil had sat violently into its place, and then lifted a broom and flung it down with a force that is best explained by the word 'temper.' She felt unable to speak, and finally burst into pa.s.sionate weeping, mingled with angry words.

"Oh, Mither! Mither! dinna tak' on that way. It's nae new thing. It's just what we expect.i.t. You hae looked it in the face many a time. Oh, I'm sae glad his feyther wasna here!"

"His feyther ought to hae been here."

"Na! na! We dinna want feyther to think a' his love and labor was thrown awa'. It wad fairly break his heart. We must just keep the mistake to oursel's. We can forgie, and still lo'e the puir lad, but feyther wad go to extremes, both wi' Neil and himsel'. We can thole his selfishness. We aye knew it was there. We hae held our tongues sae far. We must gae on being silent. I wouldna hae feyther know for onything. Let him hae his dream, Mither!"

"My heart feels like to break, la.s.sie."

"Mine too, Mither. But we needna gie feyther a heart-break. We'll just keep the visit quiet."

"Your way be it, Christine."

_Women do such things!_

At this moment Ruleson's voice was heard. He was coming up the hill with Jamie's hand in his own. "They'll be inside in a minute, Mither--a smile frae you is worth gold now," and she stooped and kissed her mother. This unusual token of love and care went to Margot's heart with a bound.

"You dear la.s.sie," she said. "I'll do as you say," and that moment she was called upon to make good her words. Ruleson was at the hearthstone, and Jamie was at her knees, telling her what a splendid time they had had, and how many big fish they had caught.

"Did you bring ane o' the haddocks hame with you, James?" she asked, and Ruleson answered, "I found Tamsen's boy at the pier, waiting to buy all my catch, and I thought ye wad hae something better for us."

"There's naething better than a fresh haddock. You canna cook them wrang, if you try; but I'll find something good for good fishermen like you and Jamie." And she spread the table with good things, and Ruleson said softly, as if to himself--"Thou satisfieth my mouth with good things, my cup runneth over." And Christine and her mother had come very close to each other and Margot had forgotten her heart-break in Christine's kiss, and almost forgotten Neil's visit. At any rate she was quite happy to hide it from her husband. "He's like a' men,"

she reflected, "he doesna spit oot his anger like I do, and be rid o'

it. He buries it in his heart, and he buries it alive, and it doesna gie him a moment's peace. Christine is right, and I'm glad I held my tongue, even frae good words."

When all the Ballister Christmas presents had been distributed the New Year's festival was at hand, and the village was all agog about Faith's marriage. The arrangements had been slightly changed, and after all she was to be married from Ruleson's house. Early in the morning she came up there with her simple bride garments in a leather trap, which she carried in her hand. She wanted Christine to dress her. She said, Christine had brought her all her good fortune, and she be to send her away, and then good would go with her.