The Twa Miss Dawsons Part 35

"Is it Jean you mean?" said Mr Dawson gravely. "But it's no' Jean the nicht."

Very evidently it was not Jean, Mr Dawson thought when he went in again. Young Mr Petrie had eyes for only one, and that was Marion, who, sitting at Miss Jean's side, seemed busy with a piece of worsted work. Mr Petrie was talking eagerly and confidentially, as though he had a right as well as a pleasure in doing so.

"He has put Jean out of his head soon enough," said Mr Dawson to himself, by way of accounting for the uncomfortable feeling of which he was conscious at the sight.

"Are we to have no more music? Will you not give us another song, Miss Petrie?" said he.

Certainly Miss Petrie would give him more than one, but Marion Calderwood must come with her--not to sing, but to turn her music for her, a task to which Mr Scott was not quite equal. And so it happened that Marion was standing gravely at her side, in the full light of the lamp, when George came to the door of the room. He stood for a moment, with his eyes, full of wonder and pain, on the fair thoughtful face of the girl, and his father saw him grow white as he gazed.

"He hasna forgotten," thought he with a sudden, sharp pang of regret and anger.

Would the memory of the dead girl ever stand between him and his son?

He had not thought Marion like her sister; but as he saw her now, standing so still with a face of unwonted gravity, there came a vivid remembrance of the young girl who in his hearing had said so quietly and firmly to her mother,--

"He will never forget me, and I will never give him up."

"She should never have been brought here. What could Jean have been thinking about? What could I have been thinking about myself?"

When he looked again George was gone. When, however, he came into the dining-room, where they were all a.s.sembled later, he appeared just as usual, and greeted the young people merrily enough. But Mr Dawson forgot to notice him particularly, so startled was he by the sudden brightness of Marion's face at the sight of him. George did not see her at first--at least he did not seem to see her, and she stood beside Miss Jean's chair, her smile growing a little wistful as she waited for his coming. Miss Jean looked grave as she watched her.

"George," said his sister, laying her hand on Marion's and drawing her forward, "George, who is this? Have you forgotten our wee Maysie?"

No, that was not likely, he said; but he could scarcely have been more ceremoniously polite in his greeting had she been a strange young lady from London, and not the Marion whom he had petted and played with as a child. He lingered a moment beside her, asking about her mother, and if there had been any news from her brother, and then he went to his place at the table, and made himself busy with his duty there.

Something was said about the antic.i.p.ated trip to the continent, and the time of setting out George had intended to leave at once if his sister were ready, but he found he must stay in Portie a few days longer.

"But next week, Jean, we must go, or give it up altogether."

"The sooner you go now, the better, or the best season will be over,"

said Mr Petrie.

"Oh! as to that, any season is good for what we mean to do."

"Still, the sooner the better. Could not I do what would be necessary to let you go at once?" said his father.

George laughed and shook his head.

"I am afraid not. It seems I stand pledged to be best man at Captain Saugster's marriage, and he has no idea of putting off the happy day for a month or more--since his time may be short. So he is to hasten it on instead, and I must wait and see him through it."

"That will hardly be fair on Annie," said Miss Jean.

"Oh! she is ready, I dare say; and she can finish her preparations afterwards," said Miss Petrie.

"And it is to be very quiet. Indeed, hardly a wedding at all in the usual sense," said George.

"But that is rather mean of Tam, I think," said Mr Petrie. "He ought to give a dance on board the 'John Seaton,' if he is to have the command of her."

His sisters were charmed with the idea. And would not Mr George put the thought into Tam's head?

"The 'John Seaton' is not in yet. He would hardly consent to wait for that," said Mr Scott.

"Don't you call it a risk, giving a man like Tam Saugster the command of a vessel like the 'John Seaton'?"

Mr Petrie asked the question not at George, but at his father.

"There is ay a risk of one kind or another about all seafaring matters,"

said Mr Dawson quietly.

"But there ought to be a fine wedding. Tam is quite a credit to the town now. We could all go to the dance," said Miss Annie Petrie.

"But I am afraid Tam would not long be a credit to the town if the whiskey were to flow as freely as it usually does at sailors' weddings.

That could hardly be dispensed with, the whiskey, I mean. It would test Tam's principles at any rate, in which I cannot say I have very great faith," said James with a little sneer.

"I think keeping out of the way of temptation might be a better proof of his wisdom," said Mr Dawson coldly. "I doubt, Jean, your aunt is getting wearied. She should be allowed to go."

But Jean had long ago sent word to Nannie that her mistress was to stay at Saughleas for the night. The young people did not linger much longer. George went out with them to the gate, and did not return till the rest had gone upstairs. Nor did they see him in the morning. He had taken an early breakfast and gone away long before any one was down.

On each of the three days that pa.s.sed before Jean and her brother went away, George went to his aunt's house as was his daily custom; but he scarcely saw Marion. The first day she had gone out, the next his father was with him, and the third time there were several of Marion's young companions with her, so that no word pa.s.sed between them till the day of Tam Saugster's marriage.

"If marriage it could be called," said some of Tam's indignant friends, "going off on the sly as gin he were ashamed o' himsel'."

They were by no means ashamed of themselves. Tam and Annie went quietly to the manse with Tam's father and mother, where Miss Dawson and her brother and Marion Calderwood and Maggie and Robbie Saugster were waiting for them, and they "got it putten ower quaietly," as Tam's father rather discontentedly said. His judgment doubtless approved of "a teetotal" marriage in Tam's case, but neither his taste nor his sense of the fitness of things was satisfied. Who had a better right to feast their friends and "fill them fou" on such an occasion than the Saugsters? And to go back to Tam's house just to tea and jelly and fus.h.i.+onless sweet cakes!--It might be prudent, but it wasna pleasant, and any thing but creditable, in his father's opinion.

And while he grumbled secretly the bride's mother, poor Mrs Cairnie, openly resented and railed at the manner of the marriage as mean, and as a confession of most shameful weakness on Tam's part. Even shrewd and sensible Mrs Saugster, though joyful over her returned prodigal and thankful to escape the risks attending a marriage as usually ordered in their rank of life, even she did not think it wrong to connive at the brewing of a steaming bowl of "toddy" for the comforting of the old folks when Tam and his wife had set out on their week of pleasure, and all the rest of the young folk were gone away.

It was a "bonny nicht," Jean said, as they lingered in their walk down the street. Over the soft glow of sunset fading in the west hung the pale new moon, and a star showed here and there among the grey wreaths and flakes of cloud that floated far beneath the blue. The tide was out, and over the sands came the soft "lap, lap" of tiny waves, with a sound more restful than silence. They stood still a minute at the point where they were to turn into the High-street.

"We may as well go home the long way. It is not late yet," said Jean.

"Going home the long way," meant turning back, and going over the sands, the mile that lay between the town and the Tangle Stanes, and they turned with one accord.

"It is our last night for a while," said Jean, and scarcely another word was spoken till they found themselves climbing the broken path that led to the High Rocks. The night air blew cool from the sea, and Jean led the way to the sheltered seat a little further down. The two girls sat down together, and George stood above them with folded arms, looking out upon the sea.

They spoke about "the happy couple," who had gone away to begin their new life together, about Tam's long voyage and Annie's hopeful waiting, and the chances they had of happiness, because they loved one another.

And then they went on to other things, some of them glad, and some of them sad, and "do you mind that time?" and "have you forgotten this?"

they said, and sometimes they sighed, and sometimes they smiled, and at last they fell into silence. By and by Jean rose and moving upward, paced up and down the narrow ledge, as she had done so many a time before in so many a mood. The two who remained were silent still, busy with their own thoughts, till George, stooping down and speaking softly, said.

"Marion, do you mind one day coming here with--Elsie and me?"

"Ay, George, I mind it well."

Marion turned, and took in both hers the hand that he held out to her.

"Poor George!" said she, drooping her head till her cheek just touched it. Then she rose and stood beside him still holding his hand. George stood with his face turned away, and neither spoke or moved for a good while.

"George, do I mind you of her? Does it grieve you to see me?"

George turned and met the look in her sweet wistful eyes.