Janet's Love and Service Part 34

"He knows what he's about, that brother of yours. He's cute. He knows a thing or two, I guess."

"Harry," said Rose, gravely, "don't talk slang. And I don't think it very polite to speak that way to Mr Millar about his brother."

"My dear Rosie, I am not talking slang, but the pure American language; and I think you are more considerate about other people's brothers than you are of your own. Twice this night I have heard your brother called cross and disagreeable, without rebuke."

"You deserved it," said Rose, laughing.

"Miss Rose," said Charlie, "let your smile beam on him for one moment, and he can't look cross for the rest of the evening."

Rose turned her laughing face to her brother.

"Be a good boy, Harry. Good bye."

As they returned, Will and Rose went on before, while Graeme lingered with Arthur.

"Did you hear what Mr Millar said about the possibility of Harry's being sent West? It must be to take the new partner's place, I suppose," said Graeme, after a little.

"No; did he say so? It would be a capital good thing for Harry."

"Do you think so? He would have to leave home."

"Yes; that would be a pity, of course; but the opening for him would be a very good one. I doubt whether there is much in it, however. Harry has been for so short a time in the employment of the firm, and he is very young for a place so responsible. Still, it may be. I know they have great confidence in him."

There was a pause, and they walked slowly on.

"Arthur," said Graeme, in a low voice. "Do you think Harry is--quite steady?"

"Steady," repeated Arthur in a surprised and shocked tone. "Why should you doubt it?"

Graeme strove to speak quietly, but her hand trembled on her brother's arm, and he knew it cost her an effort.

"I dare say there is no cause for doubt. Still, I thought I ought to speak to you. You will know better than I; and you must not think that I am unkind in speaking thus about Harry."

"You unkind! No; I should think two or three things before I thought that. But tell me why you have any fears?"

"You know, Arthur, Harry has been very late in coming home, a good many times lately; and sometimes he has not come at all. And once or twice-- more indeed--he has been excited, more than excited--and--"

Graeme could not go on.

"Still, Graeme, I do not think there is any real cause for apprehension.

He is young and full of spirit, and his society is sought after--too much for his good, I dare say. But he has too much sense to give us any real cause for uneasiness on that ground. Why, Graeme, in P street Harry is thought much of for his sense and talent."

Graeme sighed. There came into her mind something that her father had once said, about gallant s.h.i.+ps being wrecked at last. But she did not speak.

"Shall I speak to him, Graeme? What would you like me to do? I don't think there is much to fear for him."

"Well, I will think so, too. No; don't speak to him yet. It was hearing that he might be sent away, that made me speak to-night. I dare say I am foolish."

They walked on in silence for a little, and then Graeme said,--

"I hope it is only that I am foolish. But we have been so happy lately; and I mind papa and Janet both said to me--it was just when we were beginning to fear for Menie--that just as soon as people were beginning to settle down content, some change would come. It proved so then."

"Yes; I suppose so," said Arthur, with a sigh. "We must expect changes; and scarcely any change would be for the better as far as we are concerned. But, Graeme, we must not allow ourselves to become fanciful.

And I am quite sure that after all your care for Harry, and for us all, you will not have to suffer on his account. That would be too sad."

They said no more till they overtook the children,--as Rose and Will were still called in this happy household.

"I have a good mind not to go, after all. I would much rather stay quietly at home," said Arthur, sitting down on the steps.

"But you promised," said Graeme. "You must go. I will get a light, and you need not stay long."

"You must go, of course," said Rose. "And Graeme and I will have a nice quiet evening. I am going to practise the new music you brought home."

"A quiet evening," said Will.

"Yes; I have rather neglected my music of late, and other things, too.

I'm sure, I don't know where the time goes to. I wish I were going with you, Arthur."

"You are far better at home."

"Yes, indeed," said Graeme; and Will added,--

"A child like Rosie!"

"Well, be sure and look well at all the dresses, especially Miss Grove's, and tell me all about them."

"Yes; especially Miss Grove, if I get a glimpse of her in the crowd, which is doubtful."

"Well, good-night," said Rose. "I don't believe there will be a gentleman there to compare to you."

Arthur bowed low.

"I suppose I ought to say there will be no one there to compare with you. And I would, if I could conscientiously. But 'fine feathers make fine birds,' and Miss Grove aspires to be a belle it seems,--and, many who don't aspire to such distinction, will, with the help of the dressmaker, eclipse the little Scottish Rose of our garden. Good-night to you all--and Graeme, mind you are not to sit up for me past your usual time."

He went away, leaving Rose to her practising, Will to his books, and Graeme to pace up and down the gallery in the moonlight, and think her own thoughts. They were not very sad thoughts, though Arthur feared they might be. Her brother's astonishment at her fears for Harry, had done much to re-a.s.sure her with regard to him; for surely, if there were danger for Harry, Arthur would see it; and she began to be indignant with herself for having spoken at all.

"Arthur will think I am foolish. He will think that I have lost confidence in Harry, which is not true. I wish I were more hopeful. I wish I did not take fright at the very first shadow. Janet aye said that the first gloom of the cloud, troubled me more than the falling of the shower should do. Such folly to suppose that anything could happen to our Harry! I won't think about it. And even if Harry has to go away, I will believe with Arthur, that will be for the best. He will be near Norman, at any rate, and that will be a great deal. Norman will be glad. And I will not fear changes. Why should I? They cannot come to us unsent. I will trust in G.o.d."

But quite apart from the thought of Harry's temptation or prospects, there was in Graeme's heart a sense of pain. She was not quite satisfied in looking back over these pleasant years. She feared she had been beginning to settle down content with their pleasant life, forgetting higher things. Except the thought about Harry, which had come and gone, and come again a good many times within the last few months, there had scarcely been a trouble in their life daring these two years and more. She had almost forgotten how it would seem, to waken each morning to the knowledge that painful, self-denying duties lay before her. Even household care, Nelly's skill and will had put far from her.

And now as she thought about all of this, it came into her mind how her father and Janet had always spoken of life as a warfare--a struggle, and the Bible so spoke of it, too. She thought of Janet's long years of self-denial, her toils, her disappointments; and how she had always accepted her lot as no uncommon one, but as appointed to her by G.o.d.

She thought of her father--how, even in the most tranquil times of his life--the time she could remember best, the peaceful years in Merleville, he had given himself no rest, but watched for souls as one who must give account. Yes, life was a warfare. Not always with outward foes. The struggle need not be one that a looker-on could measure or see, but the warfare must be maintained--the struggle must only cease with life. It had been so with her father, she knew; and through his experience, Graeme caught a glimpse of that wonderful paradox of the life that is hid with Christ in G.o.d,--constant warfare-- and peace that is abiding; and could the true peace be without the warfare? she asked herself. And what was awaiting them after all these tranquil days?

It was not the fear that this might be the lull before the storm that pained her, so much as the doubt whether this quiet time had been turned to the best account. Had she been to her brothers all that father had believed she would be? Had her influence always been decidedly on the side where her father's and her mother's would have been? They had been very happy together, but were her brothers really better and stronger Christian men, because of her? And if, as she had sometimes feared, Harry were to go astray, could she be altogether free from blame?

The friends that had gathered around them during these years, were not just the kind of friends they would have made, had her father instead of her brother been at the head of the household; and the remembrance of the pleasure they had taken in the society of some who did not think as their father had done on the most important of all matters, came back to her now like a sin. And yet if this had worked for evil among them, it was indirectly; for it was the influence of no one whom they called their friend that she feared for Harry. She always came back to Harry in her thoughts.

"But I will not fear for him," she repeated often. "I will trust G.o.d's care for Harry and us all. Surely I need not fear, I think I have been beginning at the wrong end of my tangled thoughts to-night. Outward circ.u.mstances cannot make much difference, surely. If we are humble and trustful G.o.d will guide us."