Part 3 (1/2)
[Ill.u.s.tration: ”There came again to her that singular sense of a past familiarity”]
She was disturbed by the recurrence of the influence, and she went with rapid steps into the house. Mrs. Caird was coming to meet her. ”Marion,”
she said, ”I have slept past my intentions. Where have you been? It is too late for you to be outside. Come into the house and shut the door.”
”I was walking in the garden. You told me to do so.”
”Go now to the parlor and sit down. I will be with you directly.”
But Marion knew that her aunt's ”directly” had an elastic quality. It might be half an hour, it might be much more. So she took a book of poems from a bookcase hanging against the wall, saying to herself as she did so: ”Miss Lamont told me to commit to memory as much good poetry as I could, because there came hours in every life when a verse learned, perhaps twenty years before, would have its message and come back to us.
I suppose just as the bees and the man came back to me. I don't remember where from.”
In less than an hour Mrs. Caird came into the parlor with a gla.s.s of milk in her hand. ”Drink it, Marion,” she said, ”and then go to your sleep. You have surely worn the day threadbare by this time.”
”I was learning a few lines until you came to me. I want to tell you something. When it was nearly dark, and I was coming to the house, a man pa.s.sed here.”
”I shouldn't wonder.”
”I thought at first it might be Donald.”
”You need not look for Donald. I have told you that before.”
”He was very tall. He walked like a soldier, and pa.s.sed through the mist like a darker shadow. He gave me a queer feeling.”
”Which way did he go?”
”Straight past the house. When his feet touched the brae I lost his footsteps. I saw him but a moment or two. He pa.s.sed so quickly. It was like a dream. I wonder who he was?”
”Most likely the young Lord. Your father told me he might be at Cramer Hall. He hoped not, but thought it more than possible. It will be the right thing for him to keep shadowy and dreamlike. From what I have heard of the young Lord, he is not proper company for any nice girl. The old Lord--G.o.d rest his soul--was a very saint in his religion and a wonderful scholar. Your father thought much of him, and he was never weary of your father's company, and he left him, also, a good testimony of his friends.h.i.+p in his will.”
”Then Father should not infer ill of his son.”
”Marion, men may be perfectly fit and proper for each other's company, and very unfit for a nice girl to talk with. The young man has been six or seven years in a regiment, but now that he has come to the estate and t.i.tle I dare say he will resign. He has to look after his stepmother and the land, for I judge that she is but a young, canary-headed, thoughtless creature.”
”Who said he wasn't good company for a nice girl?”
”The Minister himself said it, and to me he said it. So, Marion, if you should meet him, which I'm thinking is particularly likely, you must act according to my report. 'He isn't proper company for a good girl,' that is what the Minister said.”
”Perhaps he is not a Calvinist,” and Marion smiled, and Mrs. Caird tried not to smile.
”I don't want any complications,” she continued, ”so don't dream of him, don't think of him, and don't have any queer feelings about him. Your father will not have things go contrary to his plans, if he can help it, and Lord Richard Cramer is not in his plans.”
”I know who is, Aunt, but he is not in my plans.”
”What are you talking about?”
”About Allan Reid. Oh, I know Father's plan. Allan is making love to me whenever he can get a chance. And, if I go down town, I'm meeting him round every corner. I know how Donald came to get into Reid and McBryne's office.”
”If you know so much, why were you keeping so quiet about things?”