The Twa Miss Dawsons Part 19

"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 la.s.sie, 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 pa.s.sed 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.