Volume Iii Part 35 (2/2)

Then suddenly she saw that the sleep was the eternal sleep which knows no waking here.

Mrs. Dorriman at Inchbrae once more suffered long from the effects of all the agitation she had gone through. The last night of Mr. Sandford's life was spent in writing to her, but even to Mr. Stevens she said nothing of the contents of his letter, only comforted by the whispered prayer which was her last remembrance of him. One point she was anxious upon: the recovery of the old place, and whether there was any necessity for letting the world know this painful chapter in the family history.

Mr. Stevens arranged both matters for her. Mr. Sandford, having by will left everything to his sister, she paid the legacy duty for the money, which was found to have acc.u.mulated enormously.

Sandford was bought back and refurnished, and, under Mrs. Macfarlane's wing, Mrs. Dorriman again changed her name, and Mr. and Mrs. Stevens Sandford went to the old house. By her express wish there were no great rejoicings--in her heart would remain for a long time that sense of a terrible past, which time only could soften and heal.

But, as a tree nipped and blighted under cruel exposure and an unfavourable soil revives and blossoms when transplanted into genial air, so Mrs. Dorriman's character (we must still call her Dorriman) grew firmer and stronger.

She had much to forget, but love is a great factor, and, as the subject was one which, after the first, Mr. Stevens Sandford would not allow her to dwell upon or talk about, it pa.s.sed out of her mind by degrees.

She had now a fuller life, sons and daughters cl.u.s.tered round her, and gave her the love she had craved for.

Margaret and her husband were content to live a quiet useful happy life.

Her other children did not banish the first from her memory, and her spirits were never high. But she was happy and cheerful. The one constant ruffle on the surface of her smoother sea was her sister.

Grace was always the same Grace--at one moment pa.s.sionately fond of her husband and lavis.h.i.+ng affection and endearment upon him, and the next quarrelling violently with him, and accusing him of almost every sin mentioned in the Decalogue.

Still she kept his affection! She was one of the provoking, irritating, and yet charming people that could sway the pa.s.sion of a man at will, and she had that strongest claim on the forbearance of a generous man--ill health.

She was a perpetual astonishment to her sister, and often a terrible anxiety.

Margaret's poems were no longer pa.s.sionate, or even powerful. It has been said, and with a good deal of truth, that the grandest poem, like the sublimest music, springs from human wretchedness, but this applies to poetry set in a minor key.

Margaret's husband gives another reason for her silence. The constant care and thought lavished upon every creature within her radius--she is one of the women who finds her truest happiness in giving it to others.

Christie did not live long; she saw her beloved mistress installed in her old home, and died soon afterwards, happy now right was done.

And Jean? Jean took every one by surprise, and married a hard-working, steady good mechanic at Renton.

They all exclaimed when she announced her marriage, and Mrs. Dorriman said:

”And you, Jean, who think it so dreadful to live near all that smoke, and found it so different to what you had been used to?”

”Eh, ma'am,” answered Jean, grinning from ear to ear, ”it's no the place, it's the man!”

THE END.

<script>