Part 26 (1/2)

Mr Dawson's thoughts went back to the time of his sister's trouble, when she had become ”a changed woman.” All the anger and vexation, that had then seemed natural and right, because of her new ways, had pa.s.sed out of his heart, a score of years and more. It was as though it had never been. He glanced up at her placid face, and said to himself, as he had said before many times, ”A woman among a thousand.” But he remembered the old pain, though it was gone, and he shrank from the thought that he might have to suffer again through his son.

”He is a man now, and must go his ain way,” he said to himself, moving uneasily on his chair and sighing. ”We canna begin again where we left off. Ungrateful? Yes, I dare say it would be so called; but, oh!

Geordie, my lad! I doubt your way and mine must lie asunder now.”

Miss Jean too had some thoughts which she would not have cared to tell, but they were not about George; for him she was altogether joyful. If Willie Calderwood's words about him were true, and he were indeed ”a changed man,” nothing else mattered much in Miss Jean's esteem. The ”good,” for which he had G.o.d's promise as security would be wrought out in him whether by health or sickness, by joy or sorrow, by possession or loss, and through him might be brought help and healing, higher hopes, and better lives to many. The Master who had chosen him would use him for His own work, and that implied all that was to be desired for any one to Miss Jean.

But in the midst of her joy for him, she could not forget Jean's silence, and Willie Calderwood's averted eyes. And though she told herself that possible pain and disappointment could work good to her niece as well as to her nephew, she could not but shrink beforehand from the suffering that might be before her. But it was not a trouble to be spoken about.

Neither had spoken for a long time, when the door opened and Jean came in. She was wrapped in her dressing-gown, over which her long hair hung, and her face looked pale and troubled.

”Are you here still, Auntie Jean? No, don't go, papa,” said she as he rose. ”I have something to tell you.”

”It maun be late. I thought you had been in your bed this hour and more,” said her father.

”Yes, papa, I was in bed, but I couldna sleep.”

”For joy, I suppose?” said he smiling.

”Yes, for joy and--because--papa, I knew that my brother had sailed in the John Seaton.”

”You knew! And never spoke?”

”Would it have been better if I had spoken? Would you have suffered less? But I did not know it till after the s.h.i.+p had sailed, and I thought it would break your heart to know that he could have been here and gone away again, without a word. I tried to tell you afterwards, and you, Auntie Jean, as well. I longed to tell you. I could hardly bear the doubt and fear of the last few weeks. But I thought if it was so terrible to me, what would it be to you!”

Mr Dawson did not answer for a moment. He was thinking of the stormy nights of last winter, and the dread in her eyes as they looked out over the angry sea.

”No wonder that you were anxious often, and afraid.”

”Ought I to have told you? But you are not angry now, papa?”

”There is no good being angry--and you did it for the best.”

And then Jean told them about the note that Robbie Saugster had brought too late to let her see her brother before the s.h.i.+p sailed. Miss Jean said it had doubtless been wisely and kindly ordered, that the lad would come home and be a better son, and a better man for the discipline of the time. And then when they went upstairs together, she added a few joyful words to Jean, about the change that had come to her brother, and about the peace that would henceforth be between his father and him.

But she would not let her linger beside her for any more talk.

”Ye need your rest, my dear, and we'll baith ha'e quieter hearts, and be better able to measure the greatness of the mercy that has come to us.

And other things will take a mair natural look as well.”

Though Mr Manners had only one more day at Saughleas at this time, he accepted Mr Dawson's invitation to walk with him to Portie in the morning. Mr Dawson wished to show him the ”John Seaton,” and Mr Manners wished to see again the fine young fellow, who might, if he chose, henceforth have the command of the s.h.i.+p. Mr Dawson had something to say to him on the way.

”You will get a scanter portion with your wife than you would have gotten if--we had heard no news.”

”Oh! My wife! My bonny May,” said Mr Manners with smiling eyes. ”But then I shall have a brother--I who never had one--and I shall have a right to my share of the family joy.”

Mr Dawson did not speak for a moment.

”There will be something at once,” and he named a sum, ”and there will be something more at my death.”

Then he went on to mention certain arrangements that were to be made, and Mr Manners, of course, seemed to listen with interest; but when he ceased speaking, he said gravely,--