The brilliant sunlight of a September morning was shining full into the
little breakfast-room, where Graeme sat at the head of the table,
awaiting the coming of the rest. The morning paper was near her, but
she was not reading; her hands were clasped and rested on the table, and
she was looking straight before her, seeing, probably, further than the
pale green wall, on which the sunshine fell so pleasantly. She was
grave and quiet, but not in the least sad. Indeed, more than once, as
the voices of Rose and Arthur came sounding down-stairs, a smile of
unmistakable cheerfulness overspread her face. Presently, Arthur
entered, and Graeme made a movement among her cups and saucers.
"Your trip has done you good, Graeme," said Arthur, as he sat down
opposite to her.
"Yes, indeed. There is nothing like the sea-breezes, to freshen one. I
hardly know myself for the tired, exhausted creature you sent away in
June."
Graeme, Rose, and Will, had passed the summer at Cacouna. Nelly had
gone with them as housekeeper, and Arthur had shut the house, and taken
lodgings a little out of town for the summer.
"I am only afraid," added Graeme, "that all our pleasure has been at the
expense of some discomfort to you."
"By no means, a change is agreeable. I have enjoyed the summer very
much. I am glad to get home again, however."
"Yes, a change does one good. If I was only quite at ease about one
thing, we might have gone to Merleville, instead of Cacouna, and that
would have given Janet and a good many others pleasure."
"Oh! I don't know," said Arthur. "The good people there must have
forgotten us by this time, I fancy. There are no sea-breezes there, and
they were what you needed."
"Arthur! Janet forgotten us! Never, I am quite sure of that. But at
the time it seemed impossible to go, to make the effort, I mean. I
quite shrunk from the thought of Merleville. Indeed, if you had not
been firm, I fear I should not have had the sea-breezes."
"Yes. You owe me thanks. You needed the change. What with Will's
illness, and Harry's going away, and one thing and another; you were
quite in need of a change."
"I was not well, certainly," said Graeme. "Will has gone to the post, I
suppose?"
"Yes," said Rose, who entered at the moment. "I see him coming up the
street."
"As for Rosie," said Arthur, looking at her gravely, as she sat down.
"She has utterly ruined her complexion. Such freckles! such sunburning!
and how stout she has grown!"
Rose laughed.
"Yes, I know I'm a fright. You must bring me something, Arthur.
Toilette vinegar, or something."
"Oh! it would not signify. You are quite beyond all that."
"Here comes Will, with a letter for each of us, I declare."
Arthur's letter was soon despatched, a mere business missive. Graeme's
was laid down beside her, while she poured Will's coffee. Rose read
hers at once, and before she was well down the first page, she uttered a
cry of delight.
"Listen all. No, I won't read it just yet. Arthur, don't you remember
a conversation that you and I had together, soon after Sandy was here?"
"Conversation," repeated Arthur. "We have talked, that is, you have
talked, and I have listened, but as to conversation:--"
"But Arthur, don't you remember saying something about Emily, and I did
not agree with you?"
"I have said a great many times, that I thought Emily a very pretty
little creature. If you don't agree, it shows bad taste."
"I quite agree. I think her beautiful. She is not very little,
however. She is nearly as tall as I am."
"What is it, Rose?" asked Graeme, stretching out her hand for the
letter.
"You'll spoil your news, with your long preface," said Will.
"No, but I want Arthur to confess that I am wisest."
"Oh! I can do that, of course, as regards matters in general; but I
should like to hear of this particular case."
"Well, don't you remember saying that you did not think Sandy and Emily
would ever fall in love?"
"I remember no such assertion, on my part. On the contrary, I remember
feeling pretty certain that the mischief was done already, as far as
Sandy was concerned, poor fellow; and I remember saying, much to your
indignation, more's the pity."
"Yes; and I remember you said it would be just like a sentimental little
blue, like Emily, to slight the handsome, hearty young farmer, and marry
some pale-faced Yankee professor."
"You put the case a little strongly, perhaps," said Arthur, laughing.
"But, on the whole, that is the way the matter stood. That was my
opinion, I confess."
"And they are going to be married!" exclaimed Graeme and Will in a
breath. "How glad Janet will be!"
"Emily does not say so, in so many words. It won't be for a long time
yet, they are so young. But I am to be bridesmaid when the time comes."
"Well, if that is not saying it!" said Will laughing. "What would you
have, Rosie?"
Graeme opened and read her letter, and laid it down beside her, looking
a little pale and anxious.
"What is it, Graeme? Nothing wrong, I hope."
"No; I hope not. I don't know, I am sure. Norman says he is going to
be married."
"Married!" cried Rose and Will.
"To Hilda?" said Arthur.
"Yes; but how could you have guessed?" said Graeme, bewildered.
"I did not guess. I saw it. Why it was quite easy to be seen that
events have been tending toward it all these years. It is all very
fine, this brother and sister intercourse; but I have been quite sure
about them since Harry wrote about them."
"Well, Norman seems surprised, if you are not. He says, `You will be
very much astonished at all this; but you cannot be more astonished than
I was myself. I did not think of such a thing; at least, I did not know
that I was thinking of such a thing till young Conway, my friend, asked
permission to address my sister. I was very indignant, though, at
first, I did not, in the least, know why. However, Hilda helped me to
find out all about it. At first I meant she should spend the winter
with you all I want very much that you should know each other. But, on
the whole, I think I can't spare her quite so long. Expect to see us
therefore in November--one flesh!'" There was much more.
"Well done, Norman!" cried Arthur. "But, Graeme, I don't see what there
is to look grave about. She seems to be a nice little thing, and Norman
ought to know his own mind by this time."
"She's a great deal more than a nice little thing," said Graeme
earnestly. "If one can judge by her letters and by Harry's description
of her--to say nothing of Norman's opinion--she must be a very superior
person, and good and amiable besides. But it seems so strange, so
sudden. Why, it seems only the other day since Norman was such a mere
boy. I wish she could have passed the winter with us. I think,
perhaps, I should write and say so."
"Yes, if you like. But Norman must judge. I think it is the wisest
thing for him. He will have a settled home."
"I do believe it is," said Graeme, earnestly. "I am very glad--or I
shall be in a little. But, just at first, it seems a little as though
Norman would not be quite so much one of us--you know--and besides there
really is something odd in the idea of Norman's being married; now, is
there not?"
"I confess I fail to see it," said Arthur, a little sharply. Graeme had
hardly time to notice his tone. An exclamation from Will startled her.
"What is it, Will?" said Rose: "Another wedding?"
"You'll never guess, Rosie. Never. You need not try."
"Is it Harry this time?" said Arthur, looking in from the hall with his
hat on.
"No. Listen, Arthur! Harry says, `What is this that Mr Green has been
telling me about Arthur and little Miss Grove? I was greatly amused at
the idea _their_ mutual admiration. Mr Green assures me that he has
the best authority for saying that Arthur is to carry off the heiress.
Charlie, too, has hinted something of the same kind. Tell Graeme, when
that happens, I shall expect her to come and keep my house.'"
"They said Mr Green was going to carry off the heiress himself!"
exclaimed Rose.
"Listen!" continued Will. "`Unless, indeed, Graeme should make up her
mind to smile on Mr Green and take possession of the "palatial
residence," of which he has just laid the foundation near C---.'"
"Here is a bit for you, Graeme. Nobody is to be left out, it seems. It
will be your turn next, Rosie," said Arthur, as he went away laughing.
"But that is all nonsense about Arthur and little Miss Grove?" said
Rose, half questioningly.
"I should think so, indeed! Fancy Arthur coming to that fate," said
Graeme. "That would be too absurd."
And yet the thought came uncalled several times that day, and her
repetitions of "too absurd," became very energetic in her attempts to
drive it quite away. The thought was unpleasantly recalled to her when,
a day or two after, she saw her brother, standing beside the Grove
carriage, apparently so interested in his conversation with the pretty
Fanny that she and Rose passed quite close to them unobserved. It was
recalled more unpleasantly still, by the obliging care of Mrs Gridley,
who was one of their first visitors after their return. The Grove
carriage passed as she sat with them, and, nodding significantly toward
it, she said:
"I don't know whether I ought to congratulate you or sympathise with
you."
Graeme laughed, but she was very much afraid she changed colour, too, as
she answered:
"There is no haste. When you make up your mind as to which will be most
appropriate, you will be in time."
"Ah! you are not to commit yourself, I see. Well, you are quite right.
She is a harmless little person, I believe, and may turn out very well
if withdrawn from the influence of her stepmother."
Something in Graeme's manner stopped the voluble lady more effectually
than words could have done, and a rather abrupt turn was given to the
conversation. But Graeme could not forget it. Not that she believed in
the truth of what Mrs Gridley had hinted at, yet she could not help
being annoyed at it. It was rather foolish, she thought, for Arthur to
give occasion for such gossip. It was so unlike him, too. And yet so
little was enough to raise a rumour like that, especially with so kind a
friend as Mrs Gridley to keep the ball rolling. Very likely Arthur
knew nothing at all about this rumour, and, as the thought passed
through her mind, Graeme determined to tell him about it.
But she did not; she could not do so--though why she could not was a
mystery to herself. Sometimes she fancied there was that in Arthur's
manner which prevented her from pursuing the subject, when an
opportunity seemed to offer. When he was not there, she was quite sure
it was only her own fancy, but no sooner was the name of Grove
mentioned; than the fancy returned, till the very sight of the Grove
carriage made her uncomfortable at last, especially if the lady of the
mansion was in it. She never failed to lean forward and bow to them
with the greatest interest and politeness; and more than once Graeme was
left standing looking in at a shop-window, while Arthur obeyed the
beckoning hand of the lady, and went to speak to her. Sometimes the
pretty Fanny was there; sometimes she was not. But her absence did not
set Graeme's uncomfortable feelings at rest with regard to her brother.
And yet, why should she be uncomfortable? she asked herself, a thousand
times. What right had she to interfere, even in thought, with her
brother's friendship? If he admired Miss Grove, if even he were
attached to her, or engaged to her, it was nothing with which she could
interfere--nothing to which she could even allude--until he should speak
first. But then, of course, that was quite absurd! Miss Grove, though
very pretty, and the daughter of a man who was reported to be rich, was
no more worthy to be Arthur's wife--than--
Oh! of course it was all nonsense. No one had ever heard three words of
common sense from those pretty lips. She had heard Arthur say as much
as that himself. Miss Grove could dance and flirt and sing a little;
that was all that could be said for her, and to suppose that Arthur
would ever--
And yet Graeme grew a little indignant standing there looking at, but
scarcely seeing the beautiful things in Savage's window, and she
inwardly resolved that never again should she wait for the convenience
of the free-and-easy occupant of the carriage standing a few doors down
the street. She had time to go over the same thoughts a good many
times, and the conclusion always was that it was exceedingly impertinent
of Mrs Grove, and exceedingly foolish of Arthur, and exceedingly
disagreeable to herself, before she was recalled by her brother's voice
from her enforced contemplation of the beautiful things before her.
"Mrs Grove wanted to speak to you, Graeme," said he, with a little
embarrassment.
"I could hardly be expected to know that by intuition," said Graeme,
coldly.
"She beckoned. Did you not see?"
"She beckoned to you; she would hardly venture on such a liberty with
me. There is not the slightest approach to intimacy between us, and
never will be, unless I have greatly mistaken her character."
"Oh, well, you may very easily have done that, you know very little
about her. She thinks very highly of you, I can assure you."
"Stuff!" pronounced Graeme, with such emphasis that she startled
herself, and provoked a hearty laugh from her brother.
"I declare, Graeme, I thought for the moment it was Harry that spoke for
Mrs Gridley in one of her least tolerant moods. It did not sound the
least like you."
Graeme laughed, too.
"Well, I was thinking of Harry at the minute, and as for Mrs Gridley--I
didn't mean to be cross, Arthur, but something disagreeable that she
once said to me did come into my mind at the moment, I must confess."
"Well, I wish you a more pleasant subject for meditation on your way
home," said Arthur. "Wait till I see if there are any letters. None, I
believe. Good-bye."
Mrs Gridley did not occupy Graeme's thoughts on her way home, yet they
were not very pleasant. All the way along the sunny streets she was
repeating to herself, "so absurd", "so foolish", "so impertinent of Mrs
Grove", "so disagreeable to be made the subject of gossip," and so on,
over and over again, till the sight of the obnoxious carriage gave her a
fresh start again. The lady did not beckon this time, she only bowed
and smiled most sweetly. But her smiles did not soothe Graeme's ruffled
temper, and she reached home at last quite ashamed of her folly. For,
after all, it was far less disagreeable to call herself silly than to
call Arthur foolish, and Mrs Grove impertinent, and she would not think
about it any more. So she said, and so she repeated, still thinking
about it more than was either pleasant or needful.
One night, Charlie Millar paid them a visit. He made no secret of his
delight at their return home, declaring that he had not known what to do
with himself in their absence, and that he had not been quite content or
at his ease since he sat in Graeme's arm-chair three months ago.
"One would not think so from the visits you have made us since we came
home," said Graeme, smiling. "You have only looked in upon us. We were
thinking you had forsaken us, or that you had found a more comfortable
arm-chair, at a pleasanter fireside."
"Business, business," repeated Charlie, gravely. "I assure you that
Harry out there, and I here, have had all that we have been able to
attend to during the last three months. It is only to the unexpected
delay of the steamer that I owe the leisure of this evening."
"You expect us to believe all that, I suppose," said Graeme, laughing.
"Indeed, you may believe me, Miss Elliott. It is quite true. I can't
understand how it is that my wise brother can stay away so long just
now. If he does not know how much he is needed it is not for want of
telling, I assure you."
"You hear often from him, I suppose?"
"Yes. I had a note from Lilias the other day, in a letter I got from my
mother. She sent `kind regards' to the Misses Elliott, which I take the
present opportunity of delivering."
"Business having hitherto prevented," said Rose.
"You don't seem to have faith in my business engagements, Miss Rose; but
I assure you that Harry and I deserve great credit for having carried on
the business so successfully for the last three months."
"Where is Mr Gilchrist?" asked Arthur.
"Oh, he's here, there, and everywhere. But Mr Gilchrist is an `old
fogey,' and he has not helped but hindered matters, now and then. It is
not easy getting on with those slow-going, obstinate old gentlemen; I
can't understand how Allan used to manage him so well. However, he had
unbounded confidence in Allan's powers, and let him do as he pleased."
"And the obstinate old gentleman has not unbounded confidence in the
powers of you and Harry?" said Arthur, laughing. "Upon the whole I
think, in the absence of your brother, it is as well, that you two lads
should have some check upon you, now and then."
"Not at all, I assure you," said Charlie. "As for Harry--Miss Elliott,
I wish I could tell you half the kind things I hear about Harry from our
correspondents out there."
Graeme smiled brightly. She was permitting herself to rely entirely
upon Harry now.
"But, Charlie," said Will from his corner, "what is this nonsense you
have been telling Harry about Arthur and the beautiful Miss Grove?"
Charlie started and coloured, and so did Graeme, and both glanced
hastily at Arthur, who neither started nor coloured, as Graeme was very
glad to perceive.
"Nonsense!" said Charlie, with a great show of astonishment and
indignation. "I don't understand you, Will."
"Will," said Rose, laughing, "you are mistaken. It was Mr Green who
had been hinting to Harry something you remember; you read it to us the
other morning."
"Yes, but Harry said that Charlie had been saying something of the same
kind," persisted simple Will, who never dreamed of making any one feel
uncomfortable.
"Hinting!" repeated Charlie. "I never hint. I leave that to Mrs
Gridley and her set. I think I must have told Harry that I had seen
Arthur in the Grove carriage one morning, and another day standing
beside it talking to Miss Fanny, while her mamma was in ordering nice
things at Alexander's."
Graeme laughed, she could not help it.
"Oh, that terrible carriage!" said Rose.
"A very comfortable and convenient carriage I found it, many a time,
when I was staying at Mrs Smith's," said Arthur, coolly. "Mrs Grove
was so polite as to invite me to take a seat in it more than once, and
much obliged I was to her, some of those warm August mornings."
"So you see, Will," said Charlie, triumphantly, "I was telling Harry the
simple truth, and he was mean to accuse me of hinting `nonsense,' as you
call it."
"I suppose that is what Mrs Gridley meant the other day when she nodded
so significantly toward the Grove carriage, and asked whether she was to
congratulate us."
Rose spoke with a little hesitation. She was not sure that her brother
would be quite pleased by Mrs Gridley's congratulations, and he was
not.
"Oh! if we are to have Mrs Gridley's kind concern and interest in our
affairs, we shall advance rapidly," said he, a little crossly. "It
would of course be very desirable to discuss our affairs with that
prudent and charitable lady."
"But as I did not suppose there was on that occasion any matters to
discuss there was no discussion," said Graeme, by no means unwilling
that her brother should see that she was not pleased by his manner and
tone to Rose.
"Oh! never mind, Graeme," said Rose, laughing, "we shall have another
chance of being congratulated, and I only hope Arthur may be here
himself. Mrs Gridley was passing when the Grove carriage stood at our
door this morning. I saw her while I was coming up the street. She
will be here in a day or two to offer again her congratulations or her
sympathy."
"Was Mrs Grove here this morning?" enquired Arthur. "She must have
given you her own message then, I suppose."
"She was at the door, but she did not get in. I was out, and Graeme was
busy, and sent her word that she was engaged."
"Yes," said Graeme, "I was helping Nelly, and I was in my old blue
wrapper."
"Now, Graeme," said Will, "that is not the least like you. What about a
wrapper?"
"Nothing, of course. But a call at that hour is not at all times
convenient, unless from once intimate friends, and we are not intimate."
"But perhaps she designs to honour you with her intimate friendship,"
said Charlie.
Graeme laughed.
"I am very much obliged to her. But I think we could each make a
happier choice of friends."
"She is a very clever woman, though, let me tell you," said Arthur; "and
she can make herself very agreeable, too, when she chooses."
"Well, I cannot imagine ever being charmed by her," said Graeme,
hastily. "There is something--a feeling that she is not sincere--that
would spoil all her attempts at being agreeable, as far as I am
concerned."
"Smooth and false," said Charlie.
"No, Charlie. You are much too severe," said Arthur. "Graeme's idea of
insincerity is better, though very severe for her. And, after all, I
don't think that she is consciously insincere. I can scarcely tell what
it is that makes the dear lady other than admirable. I think it must be
her taste for management, as Miss Fanny calls it. She does not seem to
be able to go straight to any point, but plans and arranges, and thinks
herself very clever when she succeeds in making people do as she wishes,
when in nine cases out of ten, she would have succeeded quite as well by
simply expressing her desires. After all, her manoeuvring is very
transparent, and therefore very harmless."
"Transparent! Harmless!" repeated Charlie. "You must excuse me if I
say I think you do the lady's talents great injustice. Not that I have
any personal knowledge of the matter, however: and if I were to repeat
the current reports, Miss Elliott would call them gossip and repudiate
them, and me too, perhaps. She has the reputation of having the `wisdom
of the serpent;' the slyness of the cat, I think."
They all laughed, for Charlie had warmed as he went on.
"I am sure it must be very uncomfortable to have anything to do with
such a person," said Rose. "I should feel as though I must be always on
the watch for something unexpected."
"To be always on the watch for something unexpected, would be rather
uncomfortable--`for a continuance,' as Janet would say. But I don't see
the necessity of that with Mrs Grove. I think it must be rather
agreeable to have everything arranged for one, with no trouble. You
should hear Miss Fanny, when in some difficult conjunction of
circumstances--she resigns herself to superior guidance. `Mamma will
manage it.' Certainly she does manage some difficult matters."
There was the faintest echo of mimicry in Arthur's tone, as he repeated
Miss Fanny's words, which Graeme was quite ashamed of being glad to
hear.
"It was very stupid of me, to be sure! Such folly to suppose that
Arthur would fall into that shallow woman's snares. No; Arthur's wife
must be a very different woman from pretty little Fanny Grove. I wish I
knew anyone good enough and lovely enough for him. But there is no
haste about it. Ah, me! Changes will come soon enough, we need not
seek to hasten them. And yet, we need not fear them whatever they may
be. I am very sure of that. But I am very glad that there is no harm
done."
And yet, the harm that Graeme so much dreaded, was done before three
months were over. Before that time she had it from Arthur's own lips,
that he had engaged himself to Fanny Grove; one who, to his sisters,
seemed altogether unworthy of him. She never quite knew how to receive
his announcement, but she was conscious at the time of feeling thankful;
and she was ever afterwards thankful, that she had not heard it a day
sooner, to mar the pleasure of the last few hours of Norman's stay.
For Norman came with his bride even sooner than they had expected.
Graeme was not disappointed in her new sister, and that is saying much,
for her expectations had been highly raised. She had expected to find
her an intellectual and self-reliant woman, but she had not expected to
see so charming and lovable a little lady. They all loved her dearly
from the very first; and Graeme satisfied Norman by her unfeigned
delight in her new sister, who was frank, and natural and childlike, and
yet so amiable and wise as well.
And Graeme rejoiced over Norman even more than over Hilda. He was just
what she had always hoped he might become. Contact with the world had
not spoiled him. He was the same Norman; perhaps a little graver than
he used to be in the old times, but in all things true, and frank, and
earnest, as the Merleville school-boy had been.
How they lived over those old times! There was sadness in the pleasure,
for Norman had never seen the two graves in that quiet church-yard; and
the names of the dead were spoken softly. But the bitterness of their
grief had long been past, and they could speak cheerfully and hopefully
now.
There was a great deal of enjoyment crowded into the few weeks of their
stay. "If Harry were only here!" was said many times. But Harry was
well, and well content to be where he was, and his coming home was a
pleasure which lay not very far before them. Their visit came to an end
too soon for them all; but Norman was a busy man, and they were to go
home by Merleville, for Norman declared he should not feel quite assured
of the excellence of his wife till Janet had pronounced upon her.
Graeme was strongly tempted to yield to their persuasions, and go to
Merleville with them; but her long absence during the summer, and the
hope that they might go to Emily's wedding soon, decided her to remain
at home.
Yes; they had enjoyed a few weeks of great happiness; and the very day
of their departure brought upon Graeme the pain which she had almost
ceased to fear. Arthur told her of his engagement to Miss Grove. His
story was very short, and it was told with more shamefacedness than was
at all natural for a triumphant lover. It did not matter much, however,
as there was no one to take note of the circumstances. From the first
shock of astonishment and pain which his announcement gave her, Graeme
roused herself to hear her brother say eagerly, even a little
impatiently--
"Of course, this will make no difference with us at home? You will
never _think_ of going away because of this, Rose and you?"