Part 24 (1/2)
”Amen. Mother, I bring heavy news to this house.”
”Ah! poor soul! I dared not go in till I knew the worst. Is it long since it happened?”
”Three months and more. He was long ill, and glad to go.”
”And must I tell her? Oh, if Miss Jean were here!”
”I will tell her, but I wanted you here. Does she ken that the s.h.i.+p is in?”
”She must ken, I think. But it is no' like her to go out among the throng. She's just waiting. G.o.d help her, poor woman!”
”Ay, mother, _ye_ ken.”
”But, Willie--I must say one word. George Dawson? He sailed with you?”
”Yes, mother, but--”
A voice from within bade them enter, and there was time for no more. We shall not enter with them. The first tears of a childless widow suddenly bereaved, must not be looked upon by eyes indifferent. There was much to be told--much that must have made her thankful even in her bitter sorrow. But it was a painful hour to the returned sailor, and there were tears on his cheeks when at last he came out to clasp his joyful only sister at the door.
But he could not linger long. He had more to do before he returned to the s.h.i.+p.
”I must go to Saughleas,” said he, as they paused at the corner where his sister must turn towards home.
”To Saughleas? Oh! Willie let me go with you,” she cried clinging to him. ”Mother will maybe bide with Mrs Horne a' nicht. Oh, Willie, let me go! I'll keep out o' sicht, and naebody will ken. If ye maun go, let me go with you.”
”I maun go. I promised Geordie.”
”Geordie? Have ye seen him? Did he sail in the 'John Seaton'? And has he come home?”
”Ye dinna mean that ye never heard that he sailed with us?”
”I never heard. Did Miss Dawson ken? It must have been that that made her e'en grow like my mother's when she looked out over the sea.”
They were on their way to Saughleas by this time. They had much to say to one another. Or rather Marion had much to say, and her brother had much to hear. A few words were enough to tell all that he needed to tell until his mother should hear him also.
But Marion had to give him the news of a year and more,--the ups and downs, the comings and goings of all their friends and acquaintance; the sickness of one, the health of another; the births and deaths; the marriages past and in prospect. With the last the name of May Dawson was mentioned, and being herself intensely interested in the matter, Marion went into particulars.
”He is an Englishman; but they all like him. I like his lace. Yes, I saw him once, and Jean made me sing a song to him--'The bonny House o'
Airlie.' And auld Miss Jean likes him, she told my mother. He is no' a rich man, and folk wonder at Mr Dawson being so well pleased. But what seems strange to me is, that May should be married before her sister.
And I whiles think, that maybe if he had seen Jean first--but love goes where it is sent, they say,” added Marion gravely.
”And her sister's turn will come next,” said Willie.
”Oh! as to that--” said Marion, and then she was silent, adding after a little, ”and _he_ was an Englishman too. May is nice, ye ken, but there's no' another in all Scotland like Jean.”
They were approaching Saughleas by this time. They went slowly round the drive to the open hall door. The summer gloaming was not at its darkest yet, and there were no lights visible. As they stood for a moment at the door, they heard enough to make them aware that a messenger had preceded them.
”It's Robbie Saugster, Miss Dawson. He says he has news for you--or for Mr Dawson, I canna say which. Will you come but the house and see him?
or will I send him ben to you?”