Part 51 (2/2)

Not a soul in Portie but had something to say about them on the occasion. Every body was surprised at the first announcement of the news, though afterwards there were two or three who had had, they said, an inkling of it all along. There was a whisper among the fine folk in the High-street which implied that Miss Dawson might have laid herself open to the suspicion of having ”pa.s.sed through the wood to find a crooked stick at the last.” But even in the High-street no one ventured to say it aloud. For the handsome sailor, though he was not a rich man, was as good as the best of them, even in their own partial opinion.

It was a grand ending to Captain Calderwood's romance of the sea in the opinion of all the seafaring folk of the town. The hand of the best and bonniest la.s.s in Portie was a suitable reward for the hero. And when it was whispered that they ”had ay cared for one another since they were bairns together” the tokens of the general approbation were given with enthusiasm.

”And that is an end o' the twa Miss Jeans. But it's o' George Dawson himsel' that I'm ay thinkin',” said Mrs Cairnie to all who would listen to her. ”As for auld Miss Jean--her consent was what ye would expect.

She was ay soft-hearted, and she has had an experience o' her ain. But as for auld George!--”

But even Mrs Cairnie owned that if he was not satisfied with the prospects of his daughter, ”ye wouldna ken it by him.” And Mr James Petrie, who watched him closely, and had better opportunities, said the same, and so did Portie generally.

One token of his satisfaction was of a kind that all Portie could appreciate, though those chiefly concerned would gladly have dispensed with it. He insisted on a grand wedding, and as Captain Calderwood's time was limited, the wedding had to be hastened, and there was some dismay at Saughleas at the thought of it. But May, who agreed with her father heartily on this point, came down, and took the matter into her own hands, and distinguished herself on the occasion.

It was a grand wedding. There were many guests and many gifts, and it must be confessed many opinions entertained, though not expressed, as to the wisdom of the marriage. But no one ventured to hint that the wedding itself was not a splendid success.

Strangely enough, Sir Percy Harefield was there and his sister. They were visitors at Blackford again. Mrs Eastwood looked with silent and rather scornful amazement on the girl who had slighted all that her brother had to offer, and who was now giving herself to this--sailor.

Even Mrs Eastwood could not look at Captain Calderwood on his wedding morning and join any contemptuous term to his name. He was like a young sea king among them all, she acknowledged; and he was a hero, it seemed, to these quaint northern folk that made his world. With a dim remembrance of her own youthful dreams, she acknowledged that perhaps, after all, Miss Dawson's choice was not so surprising; and even her love and admiration for her brother could not make her blind to the contrast which the two men made. But she was scornful of Jean's choice all the same.

Sir Percy was scornful of no one, but friendly and admiring, though a little heavy and dull, among so many gay folk. But he presented the bride with an elegant bracelet and bore no malice. He offered his congratulations to both bridegroom and bride with sufficient heartiness, and not even his sister could tell whether any painful sense of regret touched his heart that day.

One good thing came out of the grand wedding. There were guests from far and near, and among the rest--as one of the bridesmaids--came pretty Emily Corbett. Not the slip of a la.s.sie who had clambered over the rocks and run about the sands with her little brother and sister and the rest of the bairns that happy summer long ago, but a stately young Englishwoman, tall and fair and wise.

In her presence Mr James Petrie forgot several things, and among the rest, his father's pawky hints about Miss Langrigs and her tocher, which were to be had for the asking, as he thought. And despite many prophecies to the contrary, James married for love a portionless bride, and was made a man of by the doing it.

The ”young sea king” and his bride had a few days among the Highland hills, and a few days more among the English lakes. But the real ”wedding journey” was made in the ”Ben Nevis.” They sailed away together into a new summer beneath Southern skies, and Jean got a glimpse of a new world full of wonders to her untravelled eyes.

Happily both voyages were as peaceful and pleasant as the last had been tempestuous, and nothing happened to darken a single hour of that happy time. Through the quiet of the soft sunny days, and the glory of nights made beautiful by the light of unfamiliar stars, these two young people, who had been for the last five years almost as strangers to each other, renewed their acquaintance, and indeed grew into a truer and deeper knowledge of each other than years of common life might have brought them, and before the happy outward voyage was over, there mingled with Jean's love for her husband the reverence which no true heart can withhold from the man ”who is good before G.o.d.”

It was not a full experience of sea life which his wife had got, Captain Calderwood owned, but this was less to be regretted, that she looked forward to many another voyage in the years that were before them. In the mean time she came home to her own house in the High-street where Miss Jean and Mrs Calderwood had been living together all this time.

It was her home and theirs for many a happy year, and other homes in Portie were made happier through the happiness of theirs.

Jean had much work laid to her hand in her own home as the years went on, and she found also something to do beyond it. She was her father's almoner to many a widow and orphan child in Portie; and she helped her brother with higher work than her father's almsgiving.

Through her Miss Jean enjoyed in her last days, that which had made the happiness of her life for many years--the ministry of love to the ”stranger,” the ”naked,” the ”sick, and in prison,” for His sake who said, ”Inasmuch as ye did it to the least of these, ye did it unto me.”

And her experience as a sailor's wife and the mother of children, did not make her less fit for this work, but more. It made her wise to understand, and strong to help other sailors' wives in their time of need, and firm as well as tender in her dealings with many a child whom the cruel sea made fatherless.

And to many ”puir auld bodies,” who had forgotten the events of yesterday, and last year, and of many a long year besides; and had come in their second childhood to live over the days of their youth again, the help and comfort which made their days of waiting a quiet rest, before the last ”flitting,” still came to their belief as help and comfort used to come through ”The Twa Miss Jeans.”

The End.

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