"I hope it is only that I am foolish. But we have been so happy lately;
and I mind papa and Janet both said to me--it was just when we were
beginning to fear for Menie--that just as soon as people were beginning
to settle down content, some change would come. It proved so then."
"Yes; I suppose so," said Arthur, with a sigh. "We must expect changes;
and scarcely any change would be for the better as far as we are
concerned. But, Graeme, we must not allow ourselves to become fanciful.
And I am quite sure that after all your care for Harry, and for us all,
you will not have to suffer on his account. That would be too sad."
They said no more till they overtook the children,--as Rose and Will
were still called in this happy household.
"I have a good mind not to go, after all. I would much rather stay
quietly at home," said Arthur, sitting down on the steps.
"But you promised," said Graeme. "You must go. I will get a light, and
you need not stay long."
"You must go, of course," said Rose. "And Graeme and I will have a nice
quiet evening. I am going to practise the new music you brought home."
"A quiet evening," said Will.
"Yes; I have rather neglected my music of late, and other things, too.
I'm sure, I don't know where the time goes to. I wish I were going with
you, Arthur."
"You are far better at home."
"Yes, indeed," said Graeme; and Will added,--
"A child like Rosie!"
"Well, be sure and look well at all the dresses, especially Miss
Grove's, and tell me all about them."
"Yes; especially Miss Grove, if I get a glimpse of her in the crowd,
which is doubtful."
"Well, good-night," said Rose. "I don't believe there will be a
gentleman there to compare to you."
Arthur bowed low.
"I suppose I ought to say there will be no one there to compare with
you. And I would, if I could conscientiously. But `fine feathers make
fine birds,' and Miss Grove aspires to be a belle it seems,--and, many
who don't aspire to such distinction, will, with the help of the
dressmaker, eclipse the little Scottish Rose of our garden. Good-night
to you all--and Graeme, mind you are not to sit up for me past your
usual time."
He went away, leaving Rose to her practising, Will to his books, and
Graeme to pace up and down the gallery in the moonlight, and think her
own thoughts. They were not very sad thoughts, though Arthur feared
they might be. Her brother's astonishment at her fears for Harry, had
done much to re-assure her with regard to him; for surely, if there were
danger for Harry, Arthur would see it; and she began to be indignant
with herself for having spoken at all.
"Arthur will think I am foolish. He will think that I have lost
confidence in Harry, which is not true. I wish I were more hopeful. I
wish I did not take fright at the very first shadow. Janet aye said
that the first gloom of the cloud, troubled me more than the falling of
the shower should do. Such folly to suppose that anything could happen
to our Harry! I won't think about it. And even if Harry has to go
away, I will believe with Arthur, that will be for the best. He will be
near Norman, at any rate, and that will be a great deal. Norman will be
glad. And I will not fear changes. Why should I? They cannot come to
us unsent. I will trust in God."
But quite apart from the thought of Harry's temptation or prospects,
there was in Graeme's heart a sense of pain. She was not quite
satisfied in looking back over these pleasant years. She feared she had
been beginning to settle down content with their pleasant life,
forgetting higher things. Except the thought about Harry, which had
come and gone, and come again a good many times within the last few
months, there had scarcely been a trouble in their life daring these two
years and more. She had almost forgotten how it would seem, to waken
each morning to the knowledge that painful, self-denying duties lay
before her. Even household care, Nelly's skill and will had put far
from her.
And now as she thought about all of this, it came into her mind how her
father and Janet had always spoken of life as a warfare--a struggle, and
the Bible so spoke of it, too. She thought of Janet's long years of
self-denial, her toils, her disappointments; and how she had always
accepted her lot as no uncommon one, but as appointed to her by God.
She thought of her father--how, even in the most tranquil times of his
life--the time she could remember best, the peaceful years in
Merleville, he had given himself no rest, but watched for souls as one
who must give account. Yes, life was a warfare. Not always with
outward foes. The struggle need not be one that a looker-on could
measure or see, but the warfare must be maintained--the struggle must
only cease with life. It had been so with her father, she knew; and
through his experience, Graeme caught a glimpse of that wonderful
paradox of the life that is hid with Christ in God,--constant warfare--
and peace that is abiding; and could the true peace be without the
warfare? she asked herself. And what was awaiting them after all these
tranquil days?
It was not the fear that this might be the lull before the storm that
pained her, so much as the doubt whether this quiet time had been turned
to the best account. Had she been to her brothers all that father had
believed she would be? Had her influence always been decidedly on the
side where her father's and her mother's would have been? They had been
very happy together, but were her brothers really better and stronger
Christian men, because of her? And if, as she had sometimes feared,
Harry were to go astray, could she be altogether free from blame?
The friends that had gathered around them during these years, were not
just the kind of friends they would have made, had her father instead of
her brother been at the head of the household; and the remembrance of
the pleasure they had taken in the society of some who did not think as
their father had done on the most important of all matters, came back to
her now like a sin. And yet if this had worked for evil among them, it
was indirectly; for it was the influence of no one whom they called
their friend that she feared for Harry. She always came back to Harry
in her thoughts.
"But I will not fear for him," she repeated often. "I will trust God's
care for Harry and us all. Surely I need not fear, I think I have been
beginning at the wrong end of my tangled thoughts to-night. Outward
circumstances cannot make much difference, surely. If we are humble and
trustful God will guide us."
And busy still with thoughts from which renewed trust had taken the
sting, Graeme sat still in the moonlight, till the sound of approaching
footsteps recalled her to the present.