One Maid's Mischief Part 119

"Oh, are you?" said the old merchant. "Well, look here, just a few business words in the presence of witnesses before I go up to Perowne, for I promised to go and smoke a pipe with the poor fellow, who's as sick in body as he is in pocket and mind."

"I'm going there, and we'll trot over together," said the doctor.

"Verra good," said old Stuart. "So now look here, Master Hilton, commonly called Captain Hilton, you came to me to-day saying that you had my child's consent to ask me to give her to you for a wife."

"Yes, sir, and I repeat it."

"Well, I sort of consented, didn't I?"

"You did, sir."

"Good; but once more--you know I'm a verra poor man?"

"I know you are not a rich one, sir."

"That's right, Hilton. And you ken," he continued, getting excited and a little more Scottish of accent--"ye ken that when puir Perowne failed, he owed me nearly sax hundred pounds?"

"I did hear so, sir."

"Well, I meant to give little Grey here that for a wedding-portion, and now it's all gone."

"I'm glad of it, sir," cried Hilton, warmly, "for I am only a poor fellow with my pay and a couple of hundred a year besides; but in a very few years' time I shall be in the receipt of another two hundred and fifty a year, so that we shall not hurt."

Grey crossed to him, and put her arm through his, as she nodded and smiled in his face.

"Ye're a pair o' f.e.c.kless babies!" cried old Stuart. "So ye mean to say ye'll be content to begin life on nothing but what ye've got, Hilton?"

"To be sure, sir! Why not?"

"To be sure! Why not?" said Mrs Bolter. "I don't approve of people marrying for money, Mr Stuart; and I'm glad they act in so honest a spirit! Do you know, Mr Hilton, I began my life out here hating Helen Perowne, and thoroughly disliking you; and now, do you know, she has made me love her; and as for you, I never liked you half so well before, and I wish you both every joy, and as happy a life as I live myself when Henry stays at home, and does not glory in teasing me in every way he can!"

"Thank you, Mrs Bolter!" cried Hilton, warmly. "I don't wonder, though, that you should dislike me, for I did not show you a very pleasant side of my character."

"Well," said old Stuart, rising, "you and I may as well be off, doctor.

Poor Perowne will be glad to hear you chat a bit about Helen; and as for you two young and foolish people, why--ha! ha! ha! you had better make friends with the doctor. He has always been petting my little girl; now's the time for him to do something a little more solid."

"I'm sure," said Mrs Doctor, warmly, "Grey shall not go to the altar without a little dowry of her own--eh, Henry?"

"To be sure, my dear!" said the doctor--"to be sure!"

"Nay, nay, nay!" cried old Stuart, showing his teeth; "hang your little dowries! I want something handsome down!"

"Oh, father!" cried Grey, turning scarlet with shame.

"You hold your tongue, child! I want the doctor to do something handsome for you out of his findings at Ophir--Solomon's gold, Bolter.

Ha, ha, ha!"

"Laugh away!" cried the doctor; "but I shall astonish you yet!"

"Gad, Bolter, ye will when ye mak' anything out o' that!" cried the little merchant. "Don't let him run after shadows any more, Mrs Bolter. Well, Hilton, my boy, I won't play with you," he said, holding out his hand, as he spoke now, with Grey held tightly to his side, and the tears in his pale blue eyes. "I'm a pawkie, queer old Scot, but I believe my heart's in the right place."

"I'm sure--" began Hilton.

"Let me speak, my lad!" cried the old man. "I always said to myself that I should like the lad who wooed my little la.s.sie here to love her for herself alone, and I believe you do. Hold your tongue a bit my lad!

I've always been a careful, plodding fellow, and such a screw, that people always looked upon me as poor; but I'm not, Hilton: and thank Heaven, I can laugh at such a loss as that I have had! Heaven bless you, my lad! You've won a sweet, true woman for your wife; and let me tell you that you've won a rich one. My la.s.sie's marriage portion is twenty thousand pounds on the day she becomes your wife, and she'll have more than double that when the doctor kills me some day, as I am sure he will."

"Mr Stuart!" cried Hilton.

"Hold your tongue, lad--not a word! Good-night, Mrs Bolter. Doctor, old friend, if you don't take me up to Perowne's, and prescribe pipes and a gla.s.s o' whuskee, I shall sit down and cry like a child."

He was already at the door, and the doctor followed him out, leaving Hilton, as he afterwards told his old companion, not knowing whether he was awake or in a dream.

But he was awake decidedly, as Mrs Bolter could have told, for dream-kisses never sound so loud as those which he printed on the lips of his future wife.

"Oh, it's all right!" said Chumbley; "and I wish you joy! I knew the little la.s.sie loved you months ago!"

VOLUME THREE, CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN.

FOR ANOTHER SEARCH.

"By Jove, we've forgotten all about the parson!" exclaimed Chumbley.

"What's become of him?"

"I say, Chumbley, old fellow, we must be getting into a terrible state of mind to go on like this without troubling ourselves about our chaplain--Here comes the doctor."

"And Harley not far behind."

"Doctor ahoy!" shouted Chumbley.

"Well, lads--well, lads," cried the little doctor, bustling up. "What news?"

"That's what we were going to ask you, doctor. What next?"

"Why, now, my dear boys, that the troubles are about over, my princ.i.p.al patient quite safe, and people seem settling down, with no enemies to fear, it seems to me just the time for making a fresh start up the river."

"To--"

"Exactly, my dear Chumbley; to take up the clue where I left off when I found Helen Perowne, and go on and discover the gold-workings."

"The gold-workings, doctor?" cried Hilton, wonderingly.

"To be sure, my dear fellow. Mind, I don't say that Solomon's s.h.i.+ps ever came right up this river; but they certainly came here and traded with the Sakais or Jac.o.o.ns, the aboriginals of the country, who worked the gold from surface-mines and brought it down to the coast."

"Cut and dried, eh, doctor?" said Chumbley. "Dried, of course, my dear fellow. I don't know about the cut. I feel more and more convinced that here we have the true Ophir of Solomon; and it only wants a little enterprise, such as I am bringing to bear--"