Janet's Love and Service Part 49

"Will," said Rose, laughing, "you are mistaken. It was Mr Green who had been hinting to Harry something you remember; you read it to us the other morning."

"Yes, but Harry said that Charlie had been saying something of the same kind," persisted simple Will, who never dreamed of making any one feel uncomfortable.

"Hinting!" repeated Charlie. "I never hint. I leave that to Mrs Gridley and her set. I think I must have told Harry that I had seen Arthur in the Grove carriage one morning, and another day standing beside it talking to Miss f.a.n.n.y, while her mamma was in ordering nice things at Alexander's."

Graeme laughed, she could not help it.

"Oh, that terrible carriage!" said Rose.

"A very comfortable and convenient carriage I found it, many a time, when I was staying at Mrs Smith's," said Arthur, coolly. "Mrs Grove was so polite as to invite me to take a seat in it more than once, and much obliged I was to her, some of those warm August mornings."

"So you see, Will," said Charlie, triumphantly, "I was telling Harry the simple truth, and he was mean to accuse me of hinting 'nonsense,' as you call it."

"I suppose that is what Mrs Gridley meant the other day when she nodded so significantly toward the Grove carriage, and asked whether she was to congratulate us."

Rose spoke with a little hesitation. She was not sure that her brother would be quite pleased by Mrs Gridley's congratulations, and he was not.

"Oh! if we are to have Mrs Gridley's kind concern and interest in our affairs, we shall advance rapidly," said he, a little crossly. "It would of course be very desirable to discuss our affairs with that prudent and charitable lady."

"But as I did not suppose there was on that occasion any matters to discuss there was no discussion," said Graeme, by no means unwilling that her brother should see that she was not pleased by his manner and tone to Rose.

"Oh! never mind, Graeme," said Rose, laughing, "we shall have another chance of being congratulated, and I only hope Arthur may be here himself. Mrs Gridley was pa.s.sing when the Grove carriage stood at our door this morning. I saw her while I was coming up the street. She will be here in a day or two to offer again her congratulations or her sympathy."

"Was Mrs Grove here this morning?" enquired Arthur. "She must have given you her own message then, I suppose."

"She was at the door, but she did not get in. I was out, and Graeme was busy, and sent her word that she was engaged."

"Yes," said Graeme, "I was helping Nelly, and I was in my old blue wrapper."

"Now, Graeme," said Will, "that is not the least like you. What about a wrapper?"

"Nothing, of course. But a call at that hour is not at all times convenient, unless from once intimate friends, and we are not intimate."

"But perhaps she designs to honour you with her intimate friends.h.i.+p,"

said Charlie.

Graeme laughed.

"I am very much obliged to her. But I think we could each make a happier choice of friends."

"She is a very clever woman, though, let me tell you," said Arthur; "and she can make herself very agreeable, too, when she chooses."

"Well, I cannot imagine ever being charmed by her," said Graeme, hastily. "There is something--a feeling that she is not sincere--that would spoil all her attempts at being agreeable, as far as I am concerned."

"Smooth and false," said Charlie.

"No, Charlie. You are much too severe," said Arthur. "Graeme's idea of insincerity is better, though very severe for her. And, after all, I don't think that she is consciously insincere. I can scarcely tell what it is that makes the dear lady other than admirable. I think it must be her taste for management, as Miss f.a.n.n.y calls it. She does not seem to be able to go straight to any point, but plans and arranges, and thinks herself very clever when she succeeds in making people do as she wishes, when in nine cases out of ten, she would have succeeded quite as well by simply expressing her desires. After all, her manoeuvring is very transparent, and therefore very harmless."

"Transparent! Harmless!" repeated Charlie. "You must excuse me if I say I think you do the lady's talents great injustice. Not that I have any personal knowledge of the matter, however: and if I were to repeat the current reports, Miss Elliott would call them gossip and repudiate them, and me too, perhaps. She has the reputation of having the 'wisdom of the serpent;' the slyness of the cat, I think."

They all laughed, for Charlie had warmed as he went on.

"I am sure it must be very uncomfortable to have anything to do with such a person," said Rose. "I should feel as though I must be always on the watch for something unexpected."

"To be always on the watch for something unexpected, would be rather uncomfortable--'for a continuance,' as Janet would say. But I don't see the necessity of that with Mrs Grove. I think it must be rather agreeable to have everything arranged for one, with no trouble. You should hear Miss f.a.n.n.y, when in some difficult conjunction of circ.u.mstances--she resigns herself to superior guidance. 'Mamma will manage it.' Certainly she does manage some difficult matters."

There was the faintest echo of mimicry in Arthur's tone, as he repeated Miss f.a.n.n.y's words, which Graeme was quite ashamed of being glad to hear.

"It was very stupid of me, to be sure! Such folly to suppose that Arthur would fall into that shallow woman's snares. No; Arthur's wife must be a very different woman from pretty little f.a.n.n.y Grove. I wish I knew anyone good enough and lovely enough for him. But there is no haste about it. Ah, me! Changes will come soon enough, we need not seek to hasten them. And yet, we need not fear them whatever they may be. I am very sure of that. But I am very glad that there is no harm done."

And yet, the harm that Graeme so much dreaded, was done before three months were over. Before that time she had it from Arthur's own lips, that he had engaged himself to f.a.n.n.y Grove; one who, to his sisters, seemed altogether unworthy of him. She never quite knew how to receive his announcement, but she was conscious at the time of feeling thankful; and she was ever afterwards thankful, that she had not heard it a day sooner, to mar the pleasure of the last few hours of Norman's stay.

For Norman came with his bride even sooner than they had expected.

Graeme was not disappointed in her new sister, and that is saying much, for her expectations had been highly raised. She had expected to find her an intellectual and self-reliant woman, but she had not expected to see so charming and lovable a little lady. They all loved her dearly from the very first; and Graeme satisfied Norman by her unfeigned delight in her new sister, who was frank, and natural and childlike, and yet so amiable and wise as well.

And Graeme rejoiced over Norman even more than over Hilda. He was just what she had always hoped he might become. Contact with the world had not spoiled him. He was the same Norman; perhaps a little graver than he used to be in the old times, but in all things true, and frank, and earnest, as the Merleville school-boy had been.

How they lived over those old times! There was sadness in the pleasure, for Norman had never seen the two graves in that quiet church-yard; and the names of the dead were spoken softly. But the bitterness of their grief had long been past, and they could speak cheerfully and hopefully now.

There was a great deal of enjoyment crowded into the few weeks of their stay. "If Harry were only here!" was said many times. But Harry was well, and well content to be where he was, and his coming home was a pleasure which lay not very far before them. Their visit came to an end too soon for them all; but Norman was a busy man, and they were to go home by Merleville, for Norman declared he should not feel quite a.s.sured of the excellence of his wife till Janet had p.r.o.nounced upon her.

Graeme was strongly tempted to yield to their persuasions, and go to Merleville with them; but her long absence during the summer, and the hope that they might go to Emily's wedding soon, decided her to remain at home.

Yes; they had enjoyed a few weeks of great happiness; and the very day of their departure brought upon Graeme the pain which she had almost ceased to fear. Arthur told her of his engagement to Miss Grove. His story was very short, and it was told with more shamefacedness than was at all natural for a triumphant lover. It did not matter much, however, as there was no one to take note of the circ.u.mstances. From the first shock of astonishment and pain which his announcement gave her, Graeme roused herself to hear her brother say eagerly, even a little impatiently--

"Of course, this will make no difference with us at home? You will never _think_ of going away because of this, Rose and you?"

By a great effort Graeme forced herself to speak--

"Of course not, Arthur. What difference could it make? Where could we go?"

When Arthur spoke again, which he did not do for a moment, his tone showed how much he was relieved by his sister's words. It was very gentle and tender too, Graeme noticed.

"Of course not. I was quite sure this would make no change. Rather than my sisters should be made unhappy by my--by this affair--I would go no further in it. My engagement should be at an end."

"Hush, Arthur! It is too late to say that now."

"But I was quite sure you would see it in the right way. You always do, Graeme. It was not my thought that you would do otherwise. And it will only be a new sister, another Rosie to care for, and to love, Graeme. I know you will be such a sister to my wife, as you have ever been to Rose and to us all."

Graeme pressed the hand that Arthur laid on hers, but she could not speak. "If it had been any one else but that pretty, vain child,"

thought she. She almost fancied she had spoken her thought aloud, when Arthur said,--

"You must not be hard on her, Graeme. You do not know her yet. She is not so wise as you are, perhaps, but she is a gentle, yielding little thing; and removed from her stepmother's influence and placed under yours, she will become in time all that you could desire."

She would have given much to be able to respond heartily and cheerfully to his appeal, but she could not. Her heart refused to dictate hopeful words, and her tongue could not have uttered them. She sat silent and grave while her brother was speaking, and when he ceased she hardly knew whether she were glad or not, to perceive that, absorbed in his own thoughts, he did not seem to notice her silence or miss her sympathy.

That night Graeme's head pressed a sleepless pillow, and among her many, many thoughts there were few that were not sad. Her brother was her ideal of manly excellence and wisdom, and no exercise of charity on her part could make the bride that he had chosen seem other than weak, frivolous, vain. She shrank heartsick from the contemplation of the future, repeating rather in sorrow and wonder, than in anger, "How could he be so blind, so mad?" To her it was incomprehensible, that with his eyes open he could have placed his happiness in the keeping of one who had been brought up with no fear of G.o.d before her eyes--one whose highest wisdom did not go beyond a knowledge of the paltry fas.h.i.+ons and fancies of the world. He might dream, of happiness now, but how sad would be the wakening.

If there rose in her heart a feeling of anger or jealousy against her brother's choice, if ever there came a fear, that the love of years might come to seem of little worth beside the love of a day, it was not till afterwards. None of these mingled with the bitter sadness and compa.s.sion of that night. Her brother's doubtful future, the mistake he had made, and the disappointment that must follow, the change that might be wrought in his character as they went on; all these came and went, chasing each other through her mind, till the power of thought was well nigh lost. It was a miserable night to her, but out of the chaos of doubts and fears and anxieties, she brought one clear intent, one firm determination. She repeated it to herself as she rose from her sister's side in the dawn of the dreary autumn morning, she repeated it as part of her tearful prayer, entreating for wisdom and strength to keep the vow she vowed, that whatever changes or disappointments or sorrows might darken her brother's future, he should find her love and trust unchanged for ever.