Part 25 (1/2)
”In your mouth, Major, they would be the same.”
Then the Major laughed again and answered: ”You have a wonderful perception, Mrs. Caird. I dare say Cramer told you to what locality in Texas he was going? Donald is now going there for him.”
”He spoke most of the immense ranch of Lord Thomas Carew. He said he had bought with his inheritance as a younger son a dukedom of the richest and loveliest land in the world--somewhere on the Guadaloupe River, not far from San Antonio. It was like listening to a fairy tale to hear him describe its beauties. And he said that last summer the ladies, Alice and Annie Carew, accompanied by their eldest brother, visited Lord Thomas; and that, after four months' stay in his handsome bungalow, when they had to return to England, Lady Alice refused to leave Texas. He thought she was still there.”
”She is. I had a letter from her father a week ago, and he told me Lord Thomas and Lady Alice were yet living in Paradise. They are just 'Tom and Alice Carew' there. Their life is absolutely free, simple and happy.
t.i.tles would be too big a burden to carry, but they will be glad of Donald's company, and make much of him, doubtless.”
”They will that. Oh, the dear, dear, joyful singing lad!” and, though Mrs. Caird's voice was low and soft, there was a caress in every word she spoke.
The Major looked at her with pleasure, and then asked, ”How is Donald's sister? Is she as lovable and handsome as her brother?”
”Whiles--in a woman's way--yes. Her father's heart is set on her, and she is breaking her heart about Richard Cramer's going to India. What for, at all, did you send him?”
”Me send him?”
”Yes, you.”
”Well, as you are a wise woman, and love all of the three youngsters, I'll tell you. I sent Richard Cramer out of my way. I sent him where he could not meddle or interfere with what I am doing to make him solvent and happy. And I wanted him to be under authority a little before I put him in full possession of a big estate, free of debt. He has had too much of his own way--he is obeying orders now--that's good for him.”
”But when you set him free, what then?”
”He will marry Marion Macrae, and I count on a Macrae--man or woman--getting their full share of their own way in all things.”
”Why did he not come and bid Marion good-bye last night? She is fairly ill this morning. Why did he not come?”
”Because, while the Minister and he were explaining themselves, a telegram came ordering him to join his s.h.i.+p without a moment's delay.
She was going to sail Thursday, instead of Sat.u.r.day. I had two men seeking him, and his valet had packed his valise, and he had twenty minutes to reach his train. He could not have written her, even a line, if someone had not been thoughtful enough to have paper and pencil ready to push into his hand.”
”Then he did write to her?”
”Ay, he wrote to her. Poor lad, he was near to crying as he did so.”
”She never got that letter.”
”My certie! I forgot it! Will you take it?”
”Will I take it? It is what I came for. Goodness! Gracious! Only to think of you keeping what may be his last message to her! O man, how could you? It is a cruel-like thing to do. It was that.”
”I am very sorry for it. I quite forgot. I am not used to sending love letters. I never was in love in my life.”
”I am not believing you. No, sir! I am sure some good woman's love sweetened the dour, ill-tempered Macrae blood in your heart. Think backward a matter of forty years and you will maybe remember her name.”
He looked at Mrs. Caird in amazement, and then lifted her hand, ”You are right,” he answered slowly. ”I remember her, a dear, sweet girl, fresh and pure as the mountain bluebells she had in her hand when we first met. She died one morning--whispering my name as she went. I loved her!
Yes, I loved her!”
”Good man! I am glad you told me. I know you now, and I am not feared for you any longer. Give me Marion's letter.”