Time hung rather heavily on Kenneth's hand. The raw damp autumn offered little temptation to exercise out of doors. His daily ride to Glen Effick was discontinued, his friends having left; and he smoked cigars in the billiard-room, or wrote letters in his own, the live-long day. Julia, hitherto so available, was now never to be found when wanted, or if she did appear, her ready sympathy with the whim of the moment, and her quickness to suggest congenial pastime, seemed to have forsaken her. She sat mostly in her own room now, or in Lady Caroline's, which, as far as Kenneth's entertainment was concerned, was much the same thing. She, who had formerly taken so much interest in mess-room reminiscences and general gossip, would now look up vacantly when she was addressed, as though her thoughts had been far away, and were only induced to return for a moment by a sense of politeness. The distribution of the morning letters would rouse her a little--there appeared always to be letters for her now--but having secured her own, she would relapse into abstraction, and seize the earliest opportunity to withdraw.
Kenneth had letters of his own to write now, and knew all about the coming in and going out of mails for Torquay. But that occupied only a portion of his time, and he felt aggrieved that Julia should be so pre-occupied. 'What is the use of a girl in the house if she is always to be busy?' He expressed his discontent to Lady Caroline, who was immensely amused.
'Julia is engaged, Kenneth, or almost; for it is not announced yet.'
'I am very glad to hear it, mother, I am sure. If the girl had stayed here much longer without marrying, she might have felt herself badly used if I did not marry her myself. And I do not know that I am equal to marrying for politeness. But why should that prevent her being jolly at home? unless, indeed, the man is Bluebeard, and she expects a bad time? I am engaged myself, but I think I could be jolly on that account, if only there was opportunity.'
Lady Caroline said nothing; but she was amused, as often before, at the single-minded egotism of his lordly sex, which knows no law but its own pleasure, and imagines that must be equally delightful to every one else. The male baby graciously believes that it pleases his nurse to sing herself hoarse in coaxing him to sleep, and he is pleased that she should make herself happy, shaking his rattle till her arm aches, in endeavouring to amuse him; and all subsequent female ministrations to his solacement are accepted in the like simple good faith that it must be joy to the girl to be merry in his company, and that mirth is its own reward.
Lady Caroline liked her son better for his unreasonableness, and felt proud of herself, in being the mother of such a rajah. Wherever the idolatrous instinct exists, there must be a love of the unreasonable. Who could worship a being capable of being argued with, persuaded, coaxed, or bullied? It is the utter passiveness of Juggernaut that attracts his devotees. No matter how ugly he may be, he sits there serene among his gilded carved work, while the crashing wheels of his car grind on their course regardless of the blood and groans of mangled victims--force unpitying and inflexible.
It was some weeks before Major Steele would come to Inchbracken, not, indeed, till the last shred of autumn had been withered up by foot or swept away by wintry storms. He lingered on by the sea shore, wandering for hours by the hungry waves which swallowed up his love, accompanied by his old mother, in whose unspoken sympathy alone he seemed to find comfort. He seldom spoke to her, but he shunned every one else. When, however, winter became established, her health compelled them to return to town. There the closer contact with his fellows inseparable from city life became intolerable, and he was glad to avail himself of Kenneth's invitation, reminding him at the same time of the freedom and privacy he had promised.
Lady Caroline agreed that they should see as few visitors as possible during the poor man's stay; 'but, indeed,' she added, 'we have all grown so unsociable since we became engaged, that the excluded will have nothing to regret.'
'Indeed I am not engaged, dear Lady Caroline!' remonstrated Julia in a subdued voice.
'And indeed, mother, I am not unsociable,' added Kenneth, who was going on to 'define his position,' as precisely as an American senator does, but his voice was drowned in the uproarious guffaw with which his uncle greeted his opening words.
'Poor man!' moralized Julia, 'the quiet of the country will soothe him. His was indeed a fearful calamity.'
'Ah yes!' sighed Lady Caroline, 'and I declare I like him the better for being inconsolable! They are not all so tender-hearted and faithful, Julia, by any means. Now, my General! Do you think I can count on leaving so much desolation behind me? The idea would almost console one for having to go.'
'You forget, my dearest lady,' said the General finishing his egg (it was at breakfast), Major Steele had been less than two years married. Providence has been far kinder to us than that, and I doubt not, when the time of our separation shall arrive at last, that you will wear your weeds admirably, and continue to justify the opinion I have always held of you as the best dressed woman of my acquaintance.'
It was December when Major Steele arrived at Inchbracken. The ground was powdered with early snow, and the higher hilltops looked solidly white and alpine. The sharp air and the movement had stirred his torpid blood into some appearance of animation, but as the excitement of arrival wore off, he relapsed into wan despondency, and was indeed a melancholy object.
The two older men from the first gave up the case in reverent despair. What had there ever been in their most comfortable but burdensome lives, to entitle them to intrude their ignorant sympathy on the unparalleled tragedy of this man's sore bereavement? Like Job's three friends, they would have sat by him without speaking for three days and three nights, with eyes fixed sorrowfully on the carpet, had human life been still as of old, a majestic but monotonous sequence extending over centuries; but in its modern abbreviated form, with so many things to attend to in the brief threescore and ten, that was impossible. They sighed and looked gloomy when they found themselves near him, and then escaped to some other quarter of the house with all decent speed.
It was on Kenneth, as old friend and special host, that the full duty of condolence devolved. He led his friend to the smoking-room where they could sit together by the hour in silent amity, watching the blue smokerings widen and disappear, companionable to each other's sight, yet leaving the mind at rest from disturbing talk. Fearing to touch unwisely on the open wound, Kenneth did not venture on any allusion to his friend's bereavement. Mary's commission was ever present in his mind, but he dared not approach the subject to raise a hope that might only be quenched again in deeper gloom. He dared not question him even, that he might judge of the probability for himself; he simply waited, hoping that in time the other would give the opening which he desired.
Julia was perhaps the most successful sympathizer in the household. Her fine dramatic instinct enabled her to throw herself into the artificial mood, and play the part with an abandon relieved and varied by graceful little touches which she could never have displayed in her natural character. She was a woman with a head rather than a heart, and it was when feeling was presented to her through the imagination rather than her own emotions, that she was able to realize, seize and clothe it in expression. Her performance in the new rôle of 'Woman the Consoler,' was delicate, but beautiful and touching in the extreme, and more than once brought the handkerchief to honest Lady Caroline's eyes, who declared in confidence to her General that Julia was a 'fine creature,' and far too good for that vulgar Crœsus in Manchester. Perhaps the same idea may have struck Julia, or it may have been that the artist in her was engrossed by the new delineation of character, and revelled, for the time, in the artificial emotions of her own creation. It is certain that the Manchester correspondence lost much of its interest. The morning letter was slipped into her pocket as usual, at breakfast, but she no longer seized the first opportunity to escape with it to her own room, and by the end of the week she found three of them still in her pocket unopened. They were all opened at once, glanced over, and locked up in the drawer with those that had gone before them, and some sort of an answer was scrawled to 'Dear Augustus.' It was scarcely so charming a letter as some that had preceded it, and Augustus thought so, with his first twinge of love, pain, and jealousy; for hitherto his path had been one of rose-strewn triumph. But the letter did not take long to knock off--that was the main point at the moment--and she descended the stairs, gloved and bonneted, for a stroll by the lake, before Major Steele had begun to think of growing impatient.
When the bereaved widower first arrived at Inchbracken, Julia was very silent. Young innocence and awakening womanhood stood appalled before the revelation of grief and mystery in human life. Her eyes and voice drooped plaintively, but it was not till the following morning that she and the sufferer exchanged a word. Even then it was but little that was said, some civil words of routine, but the gentle pensive droop in word and look, distilled like heavenly dew over some acrid waste. Even so the Angel of Pity may look down on the vanquished and sore wounded in the battle of life; and the poor woe-begone Major felt grateful and consoled at the gentle tribute to his grief. She would linger in the breakfast-room with needle work or a book, and the Major got into a way of hovering round, as some frost-benumbed toad might creep from under his cold stone, to stretch his stiffened limbs, and thaw them in the watery sunshine of a February afternoon. When this arrangement seemed growing into a habit, Julia betook herself to the morning-room, which she could count on having to herself at that hour, for pursuing her work or studies. Presently the door would open and the widower would appear, asking her permission to sit awhile, and apologizing for his intrusion. There must have been companionship in each other's presence, for there was not much conversation, and what there was was vapid enough; but the divine pity in Julia's pensive droop transfused itself through each syllable, and the desolate one felt soothed and refreshed.
What Julia felt, it is difficult to say, and one cannot but wonder that, after the first three days, she did not find the whole business a lackadaisical bore. We can only suppose that life in the proper character and circumstance of Julia Finlayson had become intolerably dull, and that she had adopted those of the Angel of Pity by way of a change. She could not have seriously contemplated capturing the broken-hearted widower, especially since Lady Caroline had just secured Mr. MacSiccar's report as to the fortune and standing of Augustus Wallowby, Esquire. The report had been most satisfactory, in fact had so far exceeded expectation, that good Lady Caroline had been seduced into a momentary irreverence at the ways of Providence, in giving vulgar people so much money. She was sorry for it immediately after, however, for she was a good Tory, and honoured the powers that be, among which Providence admittedly takes the first place. As to the vulgarity even, Lady Caroline might have been brought to admit that she had seen examples of it in circles bordering very closely on the Court, and she would not have been at all reluctant to acknowledge that it existed in the army, and when found there was quite as offensive as any thing that the proverbial Manchester of her day could produce.
At last a morning came, when, over a sympathetic pipe, the Major expressed a wish to go and look at the Effick water, where all his happiness and love had come to such dismal shipwreck.
'All right,' said Kenneth; 'would you like to drive over to-day? We shall have plenty of time if we start at once. The dog-cart can be got out in twenty minutes, and we may be off in half an hour.'
He had now the opportunity he had been waiting for to fulfil Mary's commission, and already he felt himself writing to her in triumph, and describing how judiciously he had fulfilled her wish. He took the proofs she had given him of the poor baby's identity from his desk, and placing them in his pocket, was ready to mount the dogcart when it was brought round. The brotherhood of so many silent pipes had at last established itself between him and his friend Steele. The poor fellow at last felt able to speak the thoughts that were gnawing at his heart, and as they drove along that wintry road down to the sea, he spoke freely of his misery and of the shipwreck.
'Were there any passengers by the 'Maid of Cashmere' besides Mrs. Steele?' Kenneth ventured to ask.
'Old Brigadier Currie had engaged the state-room on one side of the cabin for himself and his native servants, and I had taken the other.'
'And had the captain or crew any women and children on board, do you think?'
'My wife, her maid, and the baby were the only females on board.'
'Then cheer up, old fellow! Perhaps things are not so bad as we have been thinking! Do you know that, now, for instance?' he added, pulling out the gold chain from his pocket.
'Know it? That? If I could believe my eyes I would say it belonged to my wife!' He took the chain and handled it very tenderly, and then went on. 'There was an old Begum we had been able to be kind to. A hill tribe had attacked her town, and she had fled for protection to Dourgapore, where we were stationed. My wife was the only lady in the station, therefore she was put under her care, and when she went back to her principality, after we had driven off the marauders, she made my wife some presents, and among the rest a bag of gold mohurs. I was doubtful how receiving a money present would sound at head-quarters, but our Colonel said it was a matter between the women, I could not be held to know anything about. However, to prevent misrepresentation, we determined to make it into jewellery, so we got a native goldsmith to string the pieces into a long chain. He sat in our compound and riveted the coins together with bits of gold wire, while we sat under the verandah looking on. You know these creatures are always watched while they work, to prevent their swallowing the gold, they are such inveterate thieves. But how came this into your possession? A piece of it was found clutched in my poor Lydia's hands when she was found.'
'Then I may tell you. I would have written weeks ago, but I was afraid to add disappointment to your other misfortunes, so I asked you to come here, and when you had come I found I could not speak to you about it. A man's grief seems such a sacred thing. But now. There was a friend of mine actually saw that ship caught up by the storm, and carried in shore and dashed against the rocks. They are rocks completely surrounded by water and surf at a high tide, and with an easterly wind. He could not possibly get near, and there was no human dwelling within sight, or for miles around, so he could give no help. But the following morning he was riding along the shore very early--earlier than the fisher folk, who, of course, came prowling along later in search of plunder and sea wreck. He came on the bodies of several of the drowned, and at last on a lady with her Indian maid. The lady had a piece of that chain twisted in her fingers, and not far off he came on a little baby so carefully tied up, and still alive. He had his own duties for the day, and he could be of no service to the dead, who, he knew besides, would be cared for by the proper authorities in a very little while, so he left them where they lay. But the baby was alive, and while he was examining it looked up in his face with such a friendly trustful look that he could not help taking it up and vowing to be a father to it till its own should be found.'
'And so he has been keeping my child hidden away through all these months of desolation!'
'My dear fellow, he had' no intention of that whatever. He wrote to the Edinburgh newspapers at once; but you must remember that at the time of the shipwreck your father was not aware that he had a grandchild at all, nor for weeks after. If Roderick Brown had left the child beside its mother to be found by the coastguards or the fishermen, it would have been handed over to the mercy of parish charity, which is perhaps not over tender. And who can tell if it would have survived till you went to claim it? The chain, too, is heavy and valuable, and who knows but that might have been temptation enough to keep the child out of your sight for ever?'
'Let us go to the child at once, then, Kenneth! and not to the shore with its miserable memories of wrecks and corpses.'
So the horse was put about, and they struck across the moor to Glen Effick.
Eppie Ness was at her door when Kenneth and his friend drew up before it. She had a foreboding, when she saw two of them, that the other must be the father of her baby, and that he was come to take it away; and tears rose plentifully to her eyes and trickled over her withered cheeks as she led them into her house.
The baby was in its cradle and asleep, and however homely might be the cottage surroundings, no one could say that it had suffered from neglect or privation. It lay among dainty coverings of cambric and lace, like some infant princess, or a sacred image before which a perpetual oblation of praise and incense is offered up.
It was impossible that Steele should recognize his child, seeing that its life had been measured only by days when he last saw it, but he thought he recognized it, and no one would dispute his right to do so. He also observed a strong resemblance in it to its deceased mother, which confirmed his faith in its identity, if that were possible. Yet, when one recalls that only a few weeks before Mrs. Sangster had seen with equal clearness its strong family likeness to Tibbie Tirpie, one may doubt if the likeness test is of much consequence.
The clothing in which it had been wrapped up when found was produced. It consisted entirely of Indian fabrics. Even Steele could tell that much, but not having the feminine eye for embroideries and tissues, he could not identify any of the articles. He was able to recognize his wife's cipher, however, embroidered on a handkerchief, so that all possibility of doubt was at an end.
He thanked Eppie profusely, and handed her his purse as some instalment of the debt he owed her.
'Na na, sir!' she said, 'Miss Brown pays me weel, an' it's her ye're awin' yer thanks til, for the care o' yer bairn, for she cudna hae ta'en mair tent on't gin it had been her ain. I'm misdoubtin' but she'll be wae to ken it's to be ta'en frae her. An', oh sir! gin ye hae nae body partic'lar to mind it for ye, will ye tak me for its nurse? It wad be a sair heartbreak to me to be parted frae the wee dawtie, an', I'm thinkin', she wad miss me hersel'!'
Steele felt a twinge of jealousy already. To think that any one should have a nearer place than himself in his child's regard; but he consented, and with thanks, that his daughter should remain for the present where she was, till he had time to consider of her future disposal. After hanging over the cradle, awakening the baby and making it cry with his awkward endearments, he was at last persuaded to hand back the new and incomprehensible possession to Eppie to be soothed and comforted, and then after lingering and talking, and repetition manifold, Kenneth was able to get him away and to carry him home.
All the village idlers were in the street to admire the dog-cart and the groom, and wonder what the gentlemen could have to say in so long an interview with Eppie Ness. No sooner had they gone, however, than Eppie herself came forth brimming over with the news, and mightily uplifted, if also sad at the possible chance of being parted from her charge, to tell the neighbours that a great gentleman was claiming her nurseling for his own child, that it was to be brought up as one of the first ladies of the land, and that aiblins she, Eppie Ness, might have to journey into foreign parts in attendance on the precious infant.
'An' it's wae gude Mister Brown wull be, to hae the wee dawtie ta'en frae him!'
'An' it's blate the Presbytery may weel be,' added Peter Malloch 'for a' the daftlike clavers they hae set rinnin' fornent him.'
Mrs. Sangster was in Ebenezer Prittie's shop when the news was brought in of the father that had appeared to claim the minister's bairn. They both listened to the tale with much curiosity and interest, but without one twinge of compunction at their own uncharitable constructions in time past. They were both far too excellent for that, and the lady's mind too well regulated to suppose that she could possibly have acted or thought amiss. On the contrary, she was disposed to draw improvement and instruction from the whole matter in the usual way, by moralizing on the inscrutable ways of Providence, and hoping that it would be 'a warning to the church office-bearers to practice a more abundant charity in the future, and to refrain from hasty judgments.'
'Hech! ay, mem,' sighed Ebenezer, 'it's juist hum'lin' to think what haste an' uncharitableness the Presbytery hae leuten themsel's be betrayed intil! An' Mester Dowlas! an' Mester Geddie! twa sic gude men. That they suld sae far hae forgotten a' christian charity! It's juist hum'lin'! But the best o' us wull gae wrang whiles!'
Joseph Smiley was the last man in the village to hear the news. His wife was cooking, while he sat rocking the cradle till the food should be prepared. Tibbie came bustling in from the street.
'There's news steerin', Tib!' she cried, 'but I haena juist gotten the richts o't yet. Get up! Joseph Smiley, I win'er ye dinna think shame! A muckle man like you, hingin' about the house like a singet cat, at this time o' day! Out wi' ye! an' bring back word what's steerin'. An' de'il a bite ye'se get, till ye can tell us a' about it!'
'Poor Joseph! He had come to this! Laid by the heels at last! and no mistake. The jaunty bachelor, so alert and brisk, was quenched for ever, and a poor, meek, hen-pecked creature had taken his place, sighing under a mother-in-law's iron yoke, which grew heavier each day as the victim developed new capacity of endurance.
After Tibbie's bold stroke of invasion, there was nothing left for him but to succumb. Resistance would have raised such a scandal as must have lost him his beadleship, and would probably have driven him from the parish, so he had felt compelled to admit his marriage as the lesser evil, even although it involved a severe private rebuke before the assembled kirk-session for the matrimonial irregularity.
The bitterest day of his life was probably the Sunday on which he 'kirket' his wife. Shambling down the village street in front of his mother-in-law, who stepped out behind with the briskness and precision of a corporal's guard, he seemed 'going,' as Mrs. Ebenezer Prittie, who surveyed them out of her window, observed to her spouse, 'like a fool to the correction of the stocks,' and Mrs. P. was not sorry for him. There was a twinkle of scornful pity in the eye of the onlookers at seeing this notorious lady-killer thus taken in charge, which stung Joseph's self-love like the cut of a whip; but his discomfiture was not complete till they met Jean Macaulay. Jean surveyed their procession with open eyes, and then looking her old sweetheart full in the face, she threw back her head and uttered an echoing laugh. There was a ring of vexation in the sound which might have brought consolation for the affront, but Joseph was already too miserable to be nicely observant. His eyes fell before her, and his head hung forward in abject confusion; and he crept about his duties that day around the tent more like a whipped cur than the brisk and consequential beadle of other days.
As Kenneth drove his friend home to Inchbracken, his kind heart was rejoicing to note the improvement in his condition. The happy discovery had acted on him like a cordial given to a fainting man. His very bearing was altered. He sat squarely in his seat looking about him with clear and animated eyes, a different person from the limp and nerveless invalid, seeing nothing left to him in earth or sky worth a moment's regard, whom he had driven out a few hours before. Finding there was still something left in his own life to interest him, Steele began also to interest himself in the life of his fellows. He talked to Kenneth about the Browns who had so tenderly cared for his child, and the Browns with Kenneth was an inexhaustible subject. Now that he had found a friendly listener, he talked about them freely enough, and by the time they had reached Inchbracken, Steele knew all about his engagement.
Understanding in what direction the morning drive had been made, the sympathetic Julia had arranged herself for dinner in a species of half mourning, and her voice and mien were more subduedly sorrowful than ever. As the disconsolate entered the drawing room, she lifted her head from a book over which she had been drooping in willowy fashion, all mournful sympathy for the haggard desolation she expected to see depicted on his face; but for once she found herself completely out of tune.
Major Steele sat down beside Lady Caroline and began to recount the discovery he had made--what a miracle had occurred on his behalf, and what a paragon among infants was his new found daughter.
'Mary Brown's baby! your daughter?' cried Lady Caroline. 'That is perfectly delightful! Would you like me to send over for it, that you may have it here under your own eye?'
She was probably not very sorry, however, that Major Steele thought it would be better for him to make a daily visit to his offspring, until he could arrange to remove it to Edinburgh.
The two elder men were agreeably surprised by the brightened manner of their guest. He seemed transformed since morning from a dismal hypochondriac, into a person cheerful and companionable; or, as Captain John put it, 'he seemed to have completely picked himself up.' He in particular was well pleased to meet some one who could talk to him of India, and enable him to live over again the years he spent there in his youth. It followed that they sat longer than usual in the dining room, drank their coffee there, and adjourned straight to the smoking room, so that the ladies saw no more of them that evening.
This was just as well for Julia, whose artistic soul had been sadly jarred by finding herself pitched in a wrong key. It took her hours to modulate down into a more everyday state of feeling,--for there must be a kind of feeling at the back even of make-believe emotion, if it is to be a successful representation. But that was only part of what she would have to do. The spectator must be led down by easy gradation, or her revulsion from pensive melancholy to a chastened cheerfulness might seem abrupt, intentional, and ridiculous. Artificial feeling has this advantage in displaying itself, that it is single, and free from the complexities and contradictions which confuse and distract the real, in its manifestation; and hence grief on the stage is often beautiful, while in private life it is generally revolting and grotesque. But this very singleness and clear definition makes it more difficult for the artificial to change front; while the real, having been always blurred and muddy and indistinct, can readily transfer itself to a new category. The floating cloud passes readily enough from the form of an eagle to a ship, a horse or a whale; but clay once trimmed and modelled into a given shape must be broken down and worked up afresh in order to take a new form. Julia therefore kept in the background for a day or two, before coming forward prominently in a new rôle. Prominence, however, was by no means so very easy now. Since Major Steele's mind had recovered a healthier tone, the men in the house were all eager for his company. The General had Blue-Books and Reports of the Board of Control on which he desired information, and Captain John talked pig-sticking and tigerhunts by the hour.
If Julia would only have taken some personal interest in the baby, she might have succeeded, but she was much too clever and artistic to try any course so obvious as that. Besides, she abominated babies. 'Damp, sticky little abominations, which always squalled when you did anything to them! and scrabbled their little wet fingers over your face, which was always unpleasant, and sometimes inconvenient.' If she would have talked about bringing up young children, infant health and disease, baths, powders, pap and teething, she might have kept the Major at her side by the hour; for the new responsibilities of a parent weighed heavily upon him, and he had no one to advise with, Lady Caroline having forgotten all she ever knew on such matters, if she ever knew anything. He rode over to Eppie every day and had long talks with her on the engrossing subject; but when he returned, the billiard room or smoking room were his usual haunts.
It was not long too before Julia had other matters of her own to attend to. Since the awakening of her fantastical interest in Major Steele, Augustus Wallowby's daily offerings of amorous rubbish had grown wearisome, and reply to them a positive bore. Her letters had grown intermittent, and dwindled down to the shortest billets. Augustus remonstrated--waxed plaintive--drivelled--Julia lost patience and ceased to write altogether. Had Augustus followed suit, it is likely the correspondence would not have remained long in abeyance, and that it would have been the lady who would have revived it; but Augustus dared not venture on that experiment, indeed he had become too deeply in earnest to think of it. He had thought over her pretty speeches spoken, and written in her earlier letters, and the delight of having a lord for a cousin and visitor, till from merely supposing that she must admire him very much, he had worked himself up to an almost crazy eagerness about her, believed himself to be cherishing a most ardent attachment, and began to feel deeply touched at his own sensibility.
Likewise he had cut the ground from under his own feet; or perhaps 'burned his ships' is the more usual metaphor. On returning home from the North, his good fortune with the ladies and this new conquest were much in his thoughts, weighty hints and dark sayings babbled from his lips before he was aware, and then, to mend matters, he would explain and confide till they were made much worse. All his acquaintance knew that he was going to be married, and the younger men reverenced him in advance on account of the noble family he was about to enter, 'related to half the peerage.'
The news did not act so pleasantly for him on his lady friends. No one should say that they had been jilted, or had made fruitless attempts to win him! and they took care that the cooling of the intimacy should begin on their side. His neighbour Sir Timothy Kettlebotham had three fine daughters, with £20,000 certain to their fortunes a-piece, and he had been wont to practise a good deal of archery with them on the lawn, as well as to sing numberless duets and glees, and assist at small carpet dances in the evening. But now Miss Kitura had strained her wrist and could not draw a bow, Miss Felicia had medical orders not to sing until her chest grew stronger, and Miss Frances was away on a visit. He found himself condemned to dine at home four or five times in the week, and to knock about the billiard hall of an evening if he could secure a companion, or to fall asleep in his chair if he could not, without a chance of the female society and admiration to which he had grown accustomed.
He wrote more and more pleadingly, which to Julia was more and more tiresome, and therefore elicited no reply. In sheer desperation, he packed his portmanteau and hurried to the north. He had a standing invitation to return when he pleased from Mrs. Sangster, who still cherished fatuous hopes of making him a son-in-law. Therefore, when one frosty evening about Christmas time he drew up at the door, he was made as welcome as the flowers in spring. Since the vindication of Roderick Brown's character, that lady had an uncomfortable intuition that her all-wisdom was set less store on both by her husband and daughter. But here was the prize returned; it could be with only one object, and these ingrates would have to admit her judicious management after all.
Augustus drove over to Inchbracken the following day very early. When his card was brought to Julia she was greatly surprised, and better pleased with the man than she had been yet. This long journey at such a season, and over muddy roads showed some energy and strength of purpose, and if only he would talk like a rational being and a gentleman, instead of maundering like a lackadaisical idiot as he had been doing of late in his letters, she believed she might bring herself to respect and even like him. She was beginning to realize, too, that her sympathy for Major Steele was so much brain power thrown away. There had been something respectable, nay more, touching, and almost grand, in such abandonment of grief and utter desolation on the part of a widower crushed by the untimely loss of his wife and child; but that a distinguished officer should ride away from good company every day to drivel for hours with an old woman over a sticky infant was preposterous, nay it was disgusting!
There were half-a-dozen of Augustus' latest letters on her table still unopened. She tore them open now, and glanced at the contents to place herself au courant with the gentleman's ideas, but the reading nearly destroyed her good resolutions. The letters were both abject and ridiculous, and she wondered how she would even learn to tolerate such a husband, and hesitated whether to go down to him at all. Being, however, a business minded person, who meant to settle herself comfortably and respectably in life, and knew she could not have everything, she choked down the unpractical idea, and after a critical survey of herself in the glass, she went down to receive her visitor.
Her manner was all gracious friendliness, and Augustus was disarmed for the moment, and saved from doing anything absurd, which might have been the death of his hopes. He had expected to be received with coldness, and had prepared many moving protestations; he had even selected the precise spot of the carpet on which he was prepared to kneel; and surely that, he thought, with perhaps a tear or two (and he had a misgiving that in certain contingencies they would not be far of!) would finish the matter. And so it would have done, for in spite of self-command, Julia would have laughed, and Augustus Wallowby's love, his infatuation,--whatever it should be called,--would never have survived a laugh. He would have rushed from the house, and no apology would ever have induced him to return.
They chatted as pleasantly as possible, thanks to Julia, who kept the conversation well on the ordinary track, carefully avoiding sentiment and everything tiresome. Augustus regained his equanimity under this treatment, and was saved from making a fool of himself. He had come with a purpose, however; and that purpose must be fulfilled, if not in the melodramatic fashion he had intended, at least in such form as circumstances would permit. He told her that his life was a burden to him at so great a distance from her, and begged that she would let the marriage take place the following month.
She replied that it was very nice of him to be so impatient, of course; but really he must allow her a little time to prepare for so momentous a change in her life. He pressed her to name a time. She supposed in a year. 'And you must not, dear Augustus, be so exacting as you have shown signs of being lately. A woman should be allowed to take the full enjoyment out of her last year of freedom. You know, after that, you expect us to be obedient slaves. Oh yes! Don't protest! Men are all alike!' with an engaging smile, which gratified Augustus, and made him pull out his whiskers to their greatest length.
He remonstrated about the year, however, with great earnestness, and there were threatenings of a watery look in his eyes, which induced her to relent so far; for her gracious blandishments being really well done, had had a reflex action, and she was getting into a less hard humour herself.
'Six months! then,' she said. 'Now see what influence you have already! It quite frightens me.'
But Augustus was not yet content. He reminded her of the discomforts of a northern spring. 'Would she not like to spend the dreariest months of the year in Italy, with its blue skies and its--' The special descriptive attributes of Italy forsook him at the moment, but, 'and all that sort of thing' answered as well. 'And we might spend Holy Week in Rome, and see all the church ceremonies; and there are to be an unusual number of foreign princes there this year, I am told. Would you not like to be there?'
Julia thought that she would like it. And after all, if it was to be, the sooner she entered on her fortune, and the less time she had to think about it beforehand, perhaps the better. So March was fixed on as the date of their happiness, and Wallowby was led up stairs to Lady Caroline's sitting-room, to be presented as an expectant relative, and to be duly congratulated. The interview did not last long, however; Lady Caroline speedily got tired of tiresome people, and Julia, knowing the signs, bundled her admirer off in good time. He was invited to dinner for the following day, with instructions to go back to Manchester the day after, and to remain there till the day of the wedding, as the settlements could be arranged between Mr. MacSiccar (who had Lady Caroline and the General's instructions as to what was proper) and his solicitors.
He returned to Auchlippie in exuberant delight, and unburdened himself of his good news to his hostess, who made shift to receive it as well as she could. So he had come north with matrimonial intent after all! And yet he had turned his eyes elsewhere! It was too bad! And her husband and daughter would think less of her wisdom than ever.
She was not very effusive in her congratulations, and she told him that he would no doubt stay at Inchbracken when he came north next time; from which he was left to infer that the Lady of Auchlippie had no wish to see his face again.
Roderick Brown's health rapidly improved under the milder and more genial airs of Devon. The threatening symptoms of impending disease were speedily mitigated, and gradually disappeared altogether. Torquay was but a quiet little place in those days. The carriages filled with much dressed company, and the depressing trains of hopelessly sick and dying, were not as yet. He and his sister could go in and out as inclination led them, and wander little disturbed by other sojourners along the shore.
Roderick revelled in the ease and repose that comes of the cessation of long continued worry. He knew that there he could go, and say, and do as he listed, with none to criticise; and for once after several years he found himself with nothing whatever to do but amuse himself.
He had frequent letters from the Laird, which told him all the news he cared to know of Glen Effick, whose dust he vowed to himself he had shaken from his feet for ever. The beadle's appearance at church in the new character of married man had overturned and shivered to pieces the whole fabric of scandal under which he had lain, and the old gentleman grew quite humorous over the consternation and recriminations of his brother elders in Session assembled. A scapegoat had at first appeared necessary to these wiseacres, and poor Joseph was selected as the victim on whom they might lay the punishment of their stupid credulity, sending it and him forth into the wilderness to be no more heard of or remembered; and it had taken all the Laird's and the new minister's eloquence and influence to dissuade them from their vindictive intentions, and let the poor wretch work out in peace the heavy domestic retribution he had brought upon himself. 'I might say,' he added, 'that we all congratulate you; but you know we never supposed that there was anything in it, and we only regretted that you should have taken a nonsensical accusation so seriously to heart.'
'We all' Roderick understood to be the old gentleman's way of including Sophia with himself, and he was greatly cheered. He kept up a constant correspondence with the Laird himself, and took care that Mary's letterwriting to Sophia should never flag, so that he felt by no means cut off from her. He might have adventured a letter to her himself now, with far greater hope than he had felt on a previous occasion, but he had begun to doubt and wonder as to his own future plans in life, and he misgave as to his moral right to commit another to the hazy uncertainties he begun to see before him. His utter outrooting from Glen Effick was not a process which could take place without leaving changes and permanent effects on his whole nature. It was no mere transplanting-process, in which the fibres retain some clod of the old for stay and nourishment until they are able to spread themselves and take hold on the new soil. His clerical brethren had treated him as a diseased and withered branch, a weed to be plucked up by the root and cast out of the vineyard; and finding himself thus out for the moment, he was minded to look well about him before he returned.
In England he came for the first time in contact with a national church differing from his own, and to which the traditions and prejudices of his early training were opposed. The written prayers, rubrical directions, and instrumental music, were all opposed to his experience and prepossessions, so much that, in a sense, and apart from controversial considerations, Prelacy and Popery had appeared as nearly convertible terms. But as the novelty wore off there was much in them conducive to devout feeling, and he could not close his eyes to the signal and thousandfold examples of holy living which flourished under the system. The extension of railways has assisted to bring similar suggestions to many of his fellow countrymen. Roderick began to realize what, perhaps, he would only have admitted in a speculative but doubtful way before, that there are more folds than one; or, to speak more orthodoxly, that the limits of the one fold are not conterminous with those of one special pen in which some portion of the faithful flock have chosen to house themselves. He began to read more foreign theology than had been his wont, and with less of his old feeling that he knew more and better than any dweller in lands of a dimmer Gospel light could possibly tell him.
Mary, of course, was not long in hearing from Kenneth that baby Steele had been reclaimed by its new found family, and the delighted father wrote her a letter overflowing with gratitude. He told her that he had persuaded Eppie, who understood her constitution so wonderfully, to remain in charge of his little Mary, and assured her that she should be brought up to remember for life the debt of gratitude she owed to her name-mother's charity. Mary cried a little to think that she had lost her winsome plaything, but admitted it was perhaps just as well. Lady Caroline might not have relished an infant in the house, not of her kindred, and belonging to none knew whom.
In March came the county Courier, describing the marriage in high life at Inchbracken, 'Augustus Wallowby, Esquire, to the beautiful and accomplished,' etc., with all the great doings and high festival kept on the occasion. This was especially welcome news to Mary. She had known of it from the beginning, but she had feared something might happen to delay or break it off; the attachment seemed so unreal, to judge from Kenneth's cynical observations made on the spot. Her acquaintance with Julia had been slight, and she felt as if they did not like each other, though she could not have said why. Julia had always been quite civil, but Mary knew this, that she did not understand her (Julia) in the very least, Inchbracken was going to become her own home in the coming autumn, and she had feared that the presence of Julia would not be conducive to her happy relations with her mother-in-law. But that was settled, and Mary received an occasional billet from Lady Caroline, who felt lonely and dull now that she was deprived of Julia's companionship, and whose thoughts naturally turned to the coming daughter-in-law.
Roderick and Mary broke up their winter quarters soon after hearing of Julia's marriage. They had no occasion to move northward before May or June, but having as yet seen little of England, they determined to move along the south coast by easy stages, stopping at famous towns on their way, and seeing all that they could--Exeter, Dorchester, Winchester, Portsmouth, the Isle of Wight, Canterbury, and finally Dover. They were sorely tempted to cross the straits, but it was now May, and if they were to see London, it was time for them to hurry thither, for they were due in Edinburgh at the end of the month.
They strolled down the pier to watch the steamer come in, and had the consolation of seeing by the forlorn aspect of the landing passengers, that their inability to cross was not an unmixed evil. The wind blew from the east, and the confused chopping waves betokened a detestable passage, and the seagreen visages of the people, as they followed their baggage into the customhouse sheds, showed plainly what they had suffered. In time there issued from the sheds a party, the chief members of which struck them as familiar, though they could not recall when they had seen them. A lady, whose long ringlets had somewhat lost their curl in the damp sea air, but who did not appear to be otherwise discomposed, walked first; a courier came next carrying her reticule, her Murray, and her smelling bottle; a gentleman followed, dismal of countenance and rumpled in attire. Manifestly he had not been happy during the voyage, and he appeared to have lain down or leant up in undesirable places. It appeared an exertion to him to drag himself to the neighbouring 'Lord Warden,' whither their steps were bent, and yet he had other burdens to carry. On one arm hung a voluminous fur cloak,--evidently a lady's,--and he had also a parasol. Clutched to his side under the other arm was a French poodle, caught below the shoulders, with its after-part dangling helpless like a hairy caterpillar about his legs. It appeared to be in much discomfort, blinked piteously, and would have yelped and bitten also, but that the breath was squeezed out of its body by the elbow which kept it in place. A maid followed with a vast bundle of shawls, and then came a man with a folding stool, who lingered to watch the baggage being conveyed to the hotel.
'Adolphe!' said the lady to the courier, 'go and bid Mr. Wallowby take better care of that poor Fidele. I know he is handling the tender darling roughly! Men are so coarse and indifferent. I am sure I heard a whimper!'
The delivery of Adolphe's message was followed by a shrill yelp, cut short in the middle by want of breath, as its aggravated bearer bent in a few more of its ribs with a jerk of his elbow, and wished it in the sea. The lady stopped in her saunter and turned round.
'Augustus!' she said in a severe and injured tone, 'Had you not better wait till you get indoors, before giving way to your disgusting brutality of temper? The servants cannot possibly admire the exhibition.'
At this moment she descried the Browns, and her face cleared as she approached them with cordial alacrity.
'Oh, Miss Brown! or Mary you must allow me to call you, we are so soon to be cousins you know. So nice to meet old friends on setting foot in dear Old England once more!' She was as enthusiastic over her return as if she had been abroad for years; but then she knew Mary had never crossed the Channel, and this was the civillest way to remind her of it.
Mary returned her salutation with as much effusion as she could call up, and then turned to greet Mr. Wallowby who stood a step behind, like the attendant of a princess on the stage. He could only bow himself, with a weakly smile to his encumbered hands and arms, for there was a vicious twitch about Fidele's mouth and eye, which warned him that any relaxation of watchfulness or elbow would be followed by a snap or perhaps an ugly bite.
'Ah! To be sure you know each other! I had forgotten that. Met at Auchlippie last summer, of course. It was there we met first, too, by the way, in our days of young love and inexperience. How long ago it all seems now! And how droll! Does it not, Wallowby?'
'Very droll,' returned the husband in a dull and absent voice, as if he might have added, 'And very wretched, too,' but had still so much self-respect as kept him from parading his disappointment.
He had tasted more of gall than sweetness during his honeymoon, and had found himself matched to so expert a manager that it was harder to struggle than submit; and he had meekly subsided into poodle-bearer and banker before the honeymoon was half gone through. Julia made no pretence of admiring him now, and this was so strange an experience that he worshipped her for her superiority, and probably loved her in some weak and querulous fashion. Do not people love and reverence all the queer idols they set up, if only they are strong and heavy enough to crush their worshippers? But Julia would have none of his endearments or devotion. They bored, and after a few days did not even amuse her. Adolphe the courier spoke French and Italian, and she practised herself in those tongues under his direction, which was better than talking vapid sentiment with her husband; and so long as their expenditure was liberal, there were plenty of talkative foreigners--counts--princes--all sorts of interesting creatures to be had, who conversed delightfully, and were so romantic, realizing to her mind some of the most charming passages in the French novels she doted on. Thus Julia enjoyed her tour immensely, and was returning home in the best of good humour, prepared to queen it over the Misses Kettlebotham and all the people who should come within her circle.
Roderick stood in the back-ground. A distant bow was all the recognition he either expected or received from the lady, and when they moved on he followed with Wallowby. He offered to relieve him of some of his burdens, but the poor man declined--he clung to his service as the only hold left him on the woman he had married--though he did wish that something would happen to Fidele; that its morning cream, for instance, would disagree with its liver, and that it might shortly die.
The Browns parted with their friends at the hotel door, and hastened to London, whence in due time they returned to Scotland.
There is little to record in what afterwards befell them. Like those fortunate nations which have little or no history, their lives were happy, monotonous to the onlooker, but full of various and engrossing interest to themselves. Mary returned to Inchbracken as daughter-in-law in the autumn, and Lady Caroline speedily ceased to regret that her son had not made a more splendid alliance.
Roderick met the Laird and his family in Edinburgh, where the Laird was a delegate from his Presbytery to the General Assembly, and before the young man well knew it, he had said all that was in his mind both to Sophia and her father. He spent two years in Germany to the no small anxiety of Mrs. Sangster, who felt certain that his principles would be sapped, and that he would come back a rationalist, or imbued with peculiar German views, whatever that may mean. But on his return he was called to an influential city charge, and duly married, realizing in the end the original hopes of that worthy but somewhat mixed old lady for the wellbeing of her daughter--a comfortable provision for this life, and the glorious certainties of a minister's wife for that which is to come.
Roderick has preached and published many remarkable sermons; he is highly respected for personal piety; and as his lucky star has more than once interposed to prevent his being made a professor, there is every likelihood that he will live to a good old age in peace, contentment, and universal esteem.