Part 38 (1/2)

”He didna pitch on her, I doubt it is but making the best of a bad matter, with him. Mrs Petrie was ay fond o' Marion, and she is a peacemaker. And James is as determined as his father and not altogether dependent on him. And the old man has the sense to see that his son must judge for himself. And any thing is better than dispeace in a family. And now that he has seen her again, the father likes Marion.”

”And are ye satisfied that such a marriage would be the wisest thing for her? James Petrie is a good business man, capable and honest. But when ye ha'e said that, it's a' there is to say. As for her--ye ken best about her.”

”There are few like her, and there are plenty like him. But if they loved one another, that would make them equal in a sense, and they might live happily enough. But she's no' thinkin' about him.”

”But why should you vex yoursel' about it.”

”I doubt I was wrong to bring her. And I'm sorry for the young man.”

”Oh! as to that, he'll win over it, as he has done before. There is no fear.”

But Miss Jean still looked grave and troubled. ”That was different.

Our Jean was the most beautiful woman and the best match in the town, and no doubt he believed that he was in love with her, but this is different; and it will do him harm, I fear.”

”Well, I canna see that you are needing to make yourself responsible for Jamie Petrie's well-being, if that is all.”

But that was not all. Miss Jean had anxious thoughts about others besides James Petrie. Her anxiety she could not share with her brother however, and she said no more.

Nor was Mr Dawson more inclined to carry on the conversation. The pain of past years was sharply stirring within him, though even his sister did not guess it from his words or his manner. Indeed he hardly knew it himself, till they fell into silence; but that night his head pressed a wakeful pillow, and the ghosts of old troubles came back upon him.

How vividly it came back to him, all that he had suffered in those nights long ago when he could not sleep for the pain and the anger and the utter disappointment in his hopes for his son! In those nights he had sometimes had a doubt whether he had wrought wisely toward the desired end, but he had never doubted as to the wisdom of that end--till to-night.

Was John Petrie, whose judgment when exercised beyond the even routine of business, he had never highly valued--was John Petrie showing himself wiser in yielding to the wishes of his son, than he had been in resisting the wishes of his?

What an influence for good in a man's life must be the love of such a girl as Marion Calderwood. Had bonny Elsie been one like her?

Remembering the sweet, calm eyes of the girl so long dead and gone, the gentle strength, the patient firmness by which she withstood not him alone, but her own mother whom she loved, rather than break her promise to the lad who loved her, he could not but doubt whether he had judged wisely then, and whether he had afterward dealt wisely with his son.

Ah, well! That was all past now, and good had come out of it to George.

But would he ever forget? Would there ever come to his son's home in future years one who would be to him all that Mary Keith had been to him. ”He has not forgotten her,” he said to himself, remembering his pale looks when first his eyes fell on Elsie's sister. But he was young yet, scarce five and twenty, and his life was before him, and all might be well. At any rate nothing could be changed now.

He had a troubled, restless night, and the first sight he saw when he looked out in the early morning was Marion walking up and down among the flowers. She was walking slowly, with a graver and more thoughtful face than she was used to wear in his presence. She saw the beautiful things around her, for she stooped now and then over a flower as she pa.s.sed, and touched tenderly the s.h.i.+ning leaves as she bent her head beneath the overhanging branches. But she was evidently thinking of other things, and paused now and then looking out upon the sea.

”A strong, fair woman,” he said. ”She will make a man of James Petrie, if there's stuff enough in him to work on--which I doubt. If they love one another--that is the chief thing, as Jean says, and the folk that ken them both will mostly think that she has done well.”

Miss Jean went in to Portie that day, having her own special work to attend to there, and it was understood that for this time the visit at Saughleas was over.

Marion went to the Castle with the rest, but she did not go with them to Mr Petrie's house to pa.s.s the evening. She came straight to Miss Jean's, having Mr James Petrie as her escort, and it so happened that Mr Dawson met them both on their way thither.

”Something has come to her since morning,” he thought as he watched her approaching.

She was walking rapidly and steadily, carrying her head high and looking straight before her, with the air of being occupied with her own thoughts, rather than with Mr Petrie's eager, smiling talk.

”I'll hear about it from Jean,” said Mr Dawson to himself, with a feeling of discomfort which he did not care to a.n.a.lyse.

But he heard nothing from Miss Jean. If she had any thing to tell, it could not be that which he had at first expected to hear. For young Mr Petrie, whom he saw as he saw him every day, did not carry himself like a triumphant lover, neither did he look downcast, as though he had met with a rebuff. He was just as usual, seemingly content with himself and with the world generally.

”I dare say it was but my own imagination,” said the old man, wondering a little that he thought about it at all.

He did not see Marion the next day when he called at Miss Jean's house, nor the next, nor for several days, and friendly though they had become, he still felt a certain disinclination to ask Miss Jean about her. He caught a glimpse of her on the third morning as he was coming down the High-street, but she turned toward the sh.o.r.e before he came near. She had not seen him, he thought.