Part 21 (2/2)

It would doubtless have been agreeable to Mr Dawson had Mr Manners been a richer man than he seemed to be, but he did not allow even to Miss Jean, that this want of money was a serious drawback to the satisfaction he felt in consenting to his daughter's marriage.

”He is a man whom I like much, and money is a secondary consideration,”

said he.

”That's true,” said Miss Jean.

”Not that he is without means, and he has a good professional income.

They will do very well. It is true I havena kenned him long, as ye say; and I dare say ye think I have been in haste with my consent. But just wait a wee. He'll ha'e your good word. For ye ken a man when ye see him.”

”If they truly love one another--that is the chief thing.”

Mr Dawson laughed.

”They do that.”

”And what does Jean say?”

”She'll tell you herself. There has been little time to say any thing.

He is to be brought over to see you to-day. I wished to send for you, but Jean said it was more becoming that he should come to you. Jean has her ain notions about most things.”

”Ay, she has that.”

”And ye'll come hame with them to Saughleas? There are two or three things that I would like to have a word with you about. And ye'll be sure to come.”

But Miss Jean did not promise. She liked best to be at Saughleas when there were no strangers there, she said. Mr Dawson was ready to resent her calling Mr Manners a stranger, so she said nothing. The matter could be decided afterwards.

Probably Jean was only thinking of what was due to her aunt, when she insisted on taking their new friend to make her acquaintance in her own house. But it was a wise thing to do for other reasons than Miss Jean's ”dignity,” which her niece might very well have left to take care of itself.

The house was like herself,--quiet, simple, unpretending, but with a marked character of its own; and no one could fail to be impressed with his first glimpse of Miss Jean, sitting in her quaint parlour, with its shelves of brown old books, its great work-basket, and its window looking to the sea. She was an old woman now, and not very strong; but the inward calm which earthly trouble had no power to disturb, had kept disfiguring wrinkles from her face, and the soft wavy hair that showed under her full-bordered cap was still more brown than grey.

Some who had known Miss Jean all her life declared that she was far more beautiful at sixty than she had ever been in her youth. And naturally enough. For a life of glad service to a loving Master, a helpful, hopeful, self-forgetful doing of good as opportunity is given, for His sake, tell on the countenance as on the character; and the grave cheerfulness, the trustful peace that rested on the old woman's face were beautiful to those who had eyes to see.

It was not May, but Miss Dawson, who came with the visitor that morning.

”Auntie Jean, I have brought Mr Manners to see you,” said she coming in unannounced.

Miss Jean received them kindly, but with a certain gravity.

”Yes, your father has been here. He told me who was coming,” said she, and her eyes sought Jean's gravely and earnestly. Jean nodded and smiled, carrying her aunt's look to the face of Mr Manners.

”Yes, auntie, that is the way of it.” Then Miss Jean gave him her hand again. ”The Lord keep and guide you both. And the Lord deal with you as ye shall deal with the bairn that is willing to leave her father's house to go with you.”

”Amen!” said Mr Manners, and he stooped and touched with his lips the soft wrinkled hand that had been offered him.

They had not very much to say to one another for a while. It was Jean who kept up the talk for a little, remarking upon the ”bonny day,” and the flowers that were coming out earlier than usual, and on the sea, which was seen at its best to-day, she said, a sparkling blue that faded to pale green and grey in the distance.

”You have a wide view of it here,” said Mr Manners who was leaning against the ledge looking out.

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