The Twa Miss Dawsons Part 23

"Papa, was it not for George that you bought the land? Have you had much pleasure in it since he went away? But, papa, he will come again.

He is sure to come home--soon."

Jean's voice faltered a little. That night her father had come home anxious and burdened with fears for the safety of the "John Seaton."

There had been some of the sailors' wives inquiring for news, and there was no news to give them though it was more than time; and though Mr Dawson had spoken cheerfully to the women, the few words he spoke, and the grave face he wore at his own tea-table, had made it plain to Jean that his fears were stronger than his hopes.

He looked up at Jean when she said so eagerly that her brother was sure to come home, as though he expected her to say more. But how could Jean say more, knowing what she knew? It was too late now to tell that her brother had sailed in the "John Seaton." She could only look at him with pitiful, wet eyes, and repeat over and over again,--

"Papa, he will come home. He is sure to come. We must always hope.

And when he comes, he must not know that you ever thought of putting-- another in his place. It must not be me. Even if I could give it all back to him, it would not be the same. He could never believe you had forgiven him if you were to do as you said. And, oh! Auntie Jean, he is sure to come home. We can only wait and hope?"

"Only wait and hope and pray. He will come if it is G.o.d's will. And if he shouldna, G.o.d's will is best."

There was nothing more to be said. But did the old man sitting there with his face hidden in his hands a.s.sent to his sister's words? Had G.o.d's will been best? If he could have had his will, all should have been very differently ordered, as far as the past of his son was concerned. As for the future--did he wish for his return? Could the misery of their long estrangement ever be forgotten or outlived?

The bright-faced, happy, loving lad never could return--never. What was his son like now? What could he hope from him, or for him, after what he knew of him?

Oh, yes! he loved him, pitied him, longed for him; but if it were G.o.d's will that he should come home again, would G.o.d's will be best? G.o.d Himself could not blot out the past, and make them to each other all that they had been before this trouble came between them. He groaned aloud in his misery, and then he remembered that he was not alone. He rose up as if to go, but sat down again, putting great constraint upon himself.

"We'll say nae mair about it now, la.s.sie," said he hoa.r.s.ely.

"No, papa, only this, Wait a little while. George will surely come home--or--we shall hear that he is dead. I think he will come home-- soon."

"Will our Geordie, our frank, true-hearted, n.o.ble lad ever come home to us again, think you? Could G.o.d Himself give him back to us as he was?"

"Whisht! George, man," said his sister gravely. "Think what ye're saying! All things are possible with G.o.d."

"Ay! to him that believes, but that is beyond belief--to me," said the old man with a sob.

"Papa," said Jean touching his bowed head with her hand, "He will come home--soon."

"And whether he come or no', we have just to live our lives and make the best of them," said Mr Dawson rising; and he went away with no word of good-night.

Jean lent her young strength to the weakness and weariness of her aunt as they went up the stairs together, but there were no more words spoken between them. They kissed one another in silence, and each knew that the other could not lighten the burden of care and pain that had fallen on both.

Though they had waited so long and so anxiously for the return of the "John Seaton," it took the Dawsons by surprise at last. But from the moment that the white sails broke the line of the far horizon, the s.h.i.+p was watched by an ever-increasing crowd gathering on the pier, and on the high rocks above the town.

Gla.s.ses were pa.s.sed from hand to hand, while some looked doubtful and grave, and others joyfully declared that it was the long-expected vessel. In an anguish of hope and fear fathers and mothers, wives and sisters, waited. Some wept and prayed, and wandered up and down, others sat in still excitement counting the moments till the suspense should end.

It was Sunday afternoon and so none of the Dawsons were in the town.

Even Miss Jean was at Saughleas. In the excitement of the moment none thought of sending word to the owner of the s.h.i.+p. Not one of all the anxious mothers and wives who were waiting but had more at stake than he.

"But when we are sure, and when I've seen our Tam, I'll be off to Saughleas to tell the twa Miss Jeans," said Robbie Saugster to his sister Maggie, who was waiting and hoping like the rest.

"Ay. They'll be glad--or sorry," said Maggie with a sob.

"The twa Miss Jeans, said he!" repeated Mrs Cairnie, who was wandering up and down, anxious and intent as all the rest, though there was no one belonging to her on the s.h.i.+p, or on any s.h.i.+p that sailed. "The twa Miss Jeans! And what is it to them? Ay, I ken fine the auld man is chief owner, and weel he likes his siller. But the twa Miss Jeans! what is it to them? Except that they may ha'e had their ain thochts for a' the puir bodies that ha'e grown feared this while," added the old woman relenting.

"They ha'e had many an anxious thought, and many a kind word and deed for them--I ken weel," said another woman whose eyes were on the s.h.i.+p.

"An' sae do I," said another who was sitting on a stone with her baby in her arms, because her trembling limbs would not support her. "What would I ha'e done but for auld Miss Jean since my man sailed."

"Ay; and they say auld Miss Jean has been through it all."

"And whether or no', she kens how to weep wi' those who weep."

"But she'll 'rejoice with them that do rejoice' this time, for as sure as I ha'e e'en to see, yon's the 'John Seaton'!"

"And I'se awa' to the pier head," said Robbie. "Are you coming, Maggie?"

Maggie took two steps after him, then she turned.

"Come, Mrs Barnet. It'll soon be over now. I'll carry wee Jamie."

And the crowd moved with them.

It was the "John Seaton." All saw that by this time. There was but a thin kirk that night, for none could force themselves away from the sh.o.r.e, and some who set out for the kirk, turned aside with the rest to meet and welcome those who were coming home. But the kirk was empty and the crowd increased before the "John Seaton" touched the pier.

The first who reached the deck was Robbie Saugster, and the first man he saw was Willie Calderwood, tall and brown and strong, a hero in the boy's eyes.

"Our Tam?" said he with a gasp.

"Tam's a' richt. Tell your mother I'll be round to see her."

There was no time for more. The folk pressed forward, and all noticed that the mate's face was graver that it ought to have been. There was something wrong.

"Is Mrs Horne here? Or my mother?" asked the mate. "Is that you, Robbie Saugster? Run to my mother's house and say I bade her go to Mrs Horne's, and bide till I come there."

Robbie was off like a shot. "Is it ill news?"

"If it's ill news, the laddie should speak in and tell auld Miss Jean."

"Miss Jean is unco frail."

"Miss Jean is ower at Saughleas."

"And is it Captain Horne? And when did it happen?"

"Puir woman! Her turn has come at last!" Many voices took up the "ill news," telling it gravely till it went through the throng. Even those who had got their own safe home again, spoke their welcome gravely, thinking of her who had to hear heavy tidings.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

THE "JOHN SEATON."

Mrs Calderwood stood waiting outside Mrs Horne's door, when her son came there.

"Is it you, mother?"

"Is it you, Willie? Thank G.o.d?"