Part 48 (1/2)
”Ay. It's ay said that twa women canna agree in the same house. But I think, Jean, ye might show them something else. I'm sure Marion wouldna be ill to live with.”
”It is not a matter of agreement or disagreement, papa. There cannot be two mistresses in any house with comfort to, any one concerned. And there need not be two if Marion were willing. And if I were not there she would fall naturally into her right place. I might go away for a little while, papa, and when I came back I might fall into the second place, and make no work about it. Or I might bide with Auntie Jean.”
”Nonsense! Bide with Auntie Jean, indeed! If you were going to a house of your ain, it might do. But good and dear as Marion is, I could ill bear to see you put out of your place in your father's house, even for her.”
”Yes, if I cared, papa. I might once when I was younger. But I dinna think that I could care much now.”
Mr Dawson looked at her curiously, but Jean's eyes were turned away to the sea.
”But even if that were the best way--which I am far from thinking--there is ay Mrs Calderwood and her wishes to be considered. I doubt we'll just need to let them go.”
”But I think--and Aunt Jean thinks--which is more to the purpose--that Mrs Calderwood would hardly content herself in her daughter's house wherever it was, for a continuance. I mean that she would rather be in a home of her own. That might be got over.”
There was silence between them for some time, and then Jean said with more earnestness than she had shown yet,--
”Papa, will you let me tell you just what I would like? I would like you to give me the house in the High-street for a present--as a part of my portion--just as if I were to be married, ye ken. And then I would persuade my aunt and Mrs Calderwood to live there together. And by and by when I grow old--and have not you any longer, I could live there myself.”
Mr Dawson listened to her with mingled feelings, but he said quietly, ”What would two women folk, seeing little company, do with a big house like that? And you could never persuade them.”
”But they would see company more or less, and have folk coming for the summer. And the house is not so very big, and none too good for the 'auld laird's' sister, and the 'young laird's' mother. And I think I could persuade them. And if this were all settled George would be content to bide with you at Saughleas. And I could--come and go.”
”Jean,” said her father gravely, ”why do you ay speak as if you were never to have a house of your own? I'm no' pleased to hear you.”
”But, papa, I never do. That is what I am wanting--a house of my own-- sometime--not just yet.”
”But I am not thinking of such a home as ye could make to yourself in the house in the High-street, but of something quite different.” Jean laughed. ”I canna help it, papa.”
”But ye might have helped it.”
”No, papa, I never could yet.”
”Weel! weel! We'll say nae mair about it. It's nae ower late yet. We maun ha'e patience, I suppose.”
Though Jean laughed her face grew strangely grave and sad, her father thought, as they went on in silence together.
”You might think about it, papa, and speak to Aunt Jean about it. I should never feel safe or happy to be long away from Portie, unless there were some one ay with Aunt Jean. And I think that she and Marion's mother would suit one another as no one else would suit either of them. They would be busy and happy together, and I should feel safe about my aunt wherever I might be.”
”But why should you speak as if you were not to be here? Why should you go away?”
”Only for a little while, papa. And then George and Marion would stay.
And it is not for that altogether. I would like to go a while for my own sake. I think I need a change.”
”Are ye no' weel?” said her father in some surprise.
”Oh! I am well enough; but I would like to go away for a little. I am tired, I think. We have been anxious, you know, especially when George and Mrs Calderwood were away. And I think I am wearying for a sight of May and the bairns. I know a change would be good for me, for a little, I mean.”
She spoke with some difficulty, and the colour was coming and going on her cheek. Her father's surprise changed to anxiety as he regarded her.
He saw as her aunt had seen, that she had grown thin and pale, and that her eyes looked large and anxious, like eyes that had slept little of late.
”What ails ye, my la.s.sie? Ye're surely no' weel. If it's only May and her bairns that ye're wanting, ye can easy get them. Only,” continued Mr Dawson after a little, ”it might hardly look kind to go away now, till the 'Ben Nevis' has been heard from again.”