The Glory Departed--The Mail--Coristine's Letters to Miss
Carmichael, Mrs. Carruthers and the Dominie--Sylvanus to
Tryphena--Burying Muggins--A Dull Week--A Letter From Coristine and
Four to Him--Marjorie's Letter and Book--Telegram--Mr. Douglas and
Miss Graves--Reception Parties--The Colonel and Marjorie.
After breakfast on Saturday morning, Mr. Bangs departed, riding his own
horse, while Rufus bestrode that of his late friend Nash. As the colonel
had no need for the services of Maguffin, that gentleman drove the
constable and his prisoner in a cart between these two mounted guards.
The clergymen went home to look over their sermons for the morrow, and
to make good resolutions for pastoral duty in the week to come, not that
either of them was disposed to be negligent in the discharge of such
duty, but a week of almost unavoidable arrears had to be overtaken. The
Squire was busy all day looking after his farm hands, and laying out
work to be commenced on Monday morning; and Mr. Terry went the rounds
with him. The colonel's time was spent largely in conversation, divided
between his dear Farquhar and his dearer Teresa. When not engaged in
helping the hostess and her sister in-law in the press of Saturday's
household work, the young ladies were in consultation over the new
engagement, the ring, the day, the bridesmaids, the trousseau, and other
like matters of great importance. Marjorie took her young cousins
botanizing in honour of Eugene, and crawfishing in memory of Mr.
Biggles; then she formed them into a Sunday school class, and instructed
them feelingly in the vanity of human wishes, and the fleeting nature of
all sublunary things. Even Timotheus could not be with Tryphosa as much
as he would have desired, and had to console himself with thoughts of
the morrow, and visions of two people in a ferny hollow singing hymns
out of one hymn-book. The glory seemed to have departed from Bridesdale,
the romance to have gone out of its existence on that humdrum Saturday.
The morning passed in drudgery, the dinner table in prosaic talk, and
the hot afternoon was a weariness of the flesh and spirit. Just about
tea time the mail waggon passed the gate; there was nobody in it for
Bridesdale. When the quiet tea was over, the veteran lit his pipe, and
he and Marjorie went to the post office to enquire for letters, and
invest some of Eugene's parting donations in candy. Half the mail bag
and more was for the Squire, the post-mistress said, and it made a large
bundle, so that she had to tie it up in a huge circus poster, which,
being a very religious woman, she had declined to tack up on the
post-office wall. "Marjorie," whispered Mr. Terry, so that the
post-mistress could not hear, "I wudn't buoy any swates now, for I
belave there's a howll box iv thim in the mail for yeez." Accordingly,
they left without a purchase, to the loss of the candy account at the
store.
The circus poster and contents were deposited on the office table, and
Mr. Carruthers called big Marjorie to sort the mail. So Miss Carmichael
appeared, and gave him his own letters and papers. There were two from
India for Mr. Terry, that had been forwarded from Toronto, and one from
the same quarter for aunt Honoria. Some United States documents were the
colonel's property, and a hotel envelope, with a Barrie postmark, bore
the name of Miss Tryphena Hill. The bulk of the mail was in one
handwriting, which the Bridesdale post-mistress had seen before. Only
two letters were there, a thick one for aunt Honoria, and one of
ordinary size for Mr Wilkinson, but there were several papers and
magazines for that invalid, and at least half a dozen illustrated papers
and as many magazines or paper-bound books for herself, which she knew
contained material of some kind in which she had expressed an interest.
Then came three large thick packages, one marked "Misses Marjorie,
Susan, and Honoria Carruthers," another "Masters John and Michael
Carruthers," and the third "Miss Marjorie C. Thomas and Co." The young
lady with the Co. laid violent hands upon her own property; but that of
the young Carruthers was given to their mother, along with her letters.
Miss Du Plessis, failing to receive anything of her own, carried the
dominie's spoil to him, and found that some of the magazines, though
sent to his name, were really meant for her, at least dear Farquhar said
so. Mrs. Carruthers opened her Toronto letter and read it over with
amusement. Then she held up an enclosure between forefinger and thumb,
saying, "You see, Marjorie, it is unsealed, so I think I must read it,
or give it to your mother to read first, in case it should not be right
for you to receive it." But Miss Carmichael made a dash at the document,
and bore it off triumphantly to her own room, along with her literary
pabulum. It was dated Friday afternoon, so that he could not have been
long in the city when he wrote it, and ran thus:--
_My Dear Miss Carmichael_,--I wish to apologize to you very humbly,
and, through you, but not so humbly, to Mr. Lamb, for any harsh,
and apparently cruel, things I said to or about him. Your aunt,
Mrs. Thomas, whom I met, with the Captain and Sylvanus, on their
way to the schooner, enlightened me regarding Mr. Lamb's history,
of which I was entirely ignorant while at Bridesdale. I should be
sorry to think I had been guilty of wilfully wounding the feelings
of anyone in whom you take the slightest interest, and I trust you
will pardon me for writing that, apart from my natural gratitude
for your patience with me and your kindness to me, a mere stranger,
there is no one in the world I should be more sorry to offend than
yourself.
Believe me,
My dear Miss Carmichael,
Ever yours faithfully,
EUGENE CORISTINE.
P.S.--I have taken the liberty of addressing to you some trifles I
thought might interest the kind friends at Bridesdale. E.C.
The note was satisfactory so far as it went, but there was not enough of
it; no word about the gloves, the ring, the half confession, the
promise, no word about coming back. Still, it was better than nothing.
Eugene could be dignified too; she would let everybody see that letter.
"I hope you had a nice letter, Marjorie?" asked Mrs. Carruthers. "You
would like, perhaps, to read what Mr. Coristine has to say to me." Her
niece replied that the letter was quite satisfactory, and the ladies
exchanged documents. That of Mrs. Carruthers read:--
_Dear Mrs. Carruthers_,--Since I left your hospitable mansion I
have been like a boy that has lost his mother, not to speak of the
rest of the family. I look at myself like the poor newsboy, who was
questioned about his parents and friends, and who, to put an end to
the enquiries, answered: "Say, mister, when you seen me, you seen
all there is on us." Please tell Marjorie Thomas, and your own
little ones, that, perhaps, if I am good and am allowed, I may run
up before the end of next month, to see if the fall flowers are
out, and if they have left any crawfish and shiners in the creek.
Will you kindly give the inclosure to Miss Carmichael, with whom,
through my foolishness, I had an awkward misunderstanding that
still troubles me a good deal. If I had known I was offending her,
I would not have done it for the world. I cannot sufficiently thank
you for your great kindness to my friend Wilkinson and me, nor
shall I soon forget the happiest days of my life in your delightful
home. Please make my sincere apologies to the Squire, and any other
dear friends whom I may have left abruptly, under the peculiar
circumstances of my departure. Remember me gratefully to Mrs.
Carmichael, Mrs. Du Plessis, and the young ladies, and give my love
to all the children.
I am, dear Mrs. Carruthers,
Very sincerely and thankfully yours,
EUGENE CORISTINE.
P.S.--Please forgive me for sending a few bonbons for the children
by this mail. E.C.
"That's a very nice gentlemanly letter, Marjorie," said Mrs. Carruthers,
returning it.
"I like yours better, Aunty; it is not so stiff."
"Nonsense, you silly girl. I am only 'dear' and you are 'my dear.' He
thinks of me as a mother, and of you as the chief person in the world. I
think you are getting vain and greedy, Marjorie. Well, I must put these
bonbons away, or the children will see them, and will be making
themselves too ill to go to church. Where is cousin Marjorie?"
"Oh, she is off with her box. Very likely she is giving some to uncle
and grandpa. It's a great pity the Captain is not here; he has a sweet
tooth. Do you know Tryphena has a letter from Sylvanus?"
"That accounts for her delay with the dishes. What other letters did you
get?"
"None; only a lot of books, magazines, and illustrated papers from Mr.
Coristine for the family."
"For the family, Marjorie?"
"Yes; did you not read the postscript?"
"To be sure I did; but you know better than to take that
literally,--Marjorie, I think you're deep, deep."
"Do you think he will come here next month?"
"I am going to command my niece, Marjorie Carmichael, or to ask
Marjorie's mother, to answer his letter for me, and to insist upon his
coming back as soon as possible."
The aunt and niece had a kissing match, after which the latter said:
"Thank you, aunt Honoria," and went out of the room, ready for the
congratulations of the Bridesdale world.
Meanwhile Miss Du Plessis, having laid the dominie's wealth of postal
matter before his eyes, at his request read the solitary letter.
_My Dear Wilks_,--I hope that, under your excellent corps of nurses
and guardian angels, you are gradually recovering from your
Falstaffian encounter with Ancient Pistol. Don't let Miss Du
Plessis see this or she'll faint. I had a toughish ride to
Collingwood, and part of the way back, the latter at the suggestion
of Hickey Bangs. If I were as plucky for my size as that little
fellow is, I could face a regiment. He got the prisoner safely
caged, which is the proper thing to say about gaol birds. I came
down with him and his select party this morning, meeting Captain
and Mrs. Thomas and The Crew on the way. They wanted me to go on a
cruise. The kindness of the whole Carruthers family is like the
widow's curse; it's inexhaustible. Having been badly sold, however,
over a Lamb, and cheap, too, I was not eligible for more sail. I
write this, Wilks, more in sorrow than in anger, but I do hanker
after those jolly Bridesdale days. Mrs. Marsh received me
cordially, but not in character; she was the reverse of martial.--
"Really, Farquhar, this is very terrible," said Miss Du Plessis,
laughing; "I hardly know whether to go on. Who knows what dreadful
things may be before us?"
"The taste, Cecile, is shocking; otherwise any child might read his
letters."
"I left off at 'martial.'"
I went to the office, very unlike the Squire's, and pulled White
_off his_ stool before he knew I was there. He told me I had just
come in the nick of time, for he wants to go to some forsaken
watering place down the Gulf--as Madame Lajeunesse said "Law
baw"--and that immediately. So, I get my two weeks next month, by
which time I hope to have got that next of kin matter straightened
out. Then, if I'm let, I'll go up and have my _golf_ with Mr. Errol
on his links. How are his links matrimonial progressing, and
Perrowne's, not to mention those of Ben Toner, Timotheus, yourself,
and other minor personages? Will you commission me to buy the ring?--
"Really, dear, I think I must stop."
"Please do not, dear; there is not much more, is there?"
"Not much, but it is so personal!"
The York Pioneers are having an exhibition of antiques; couldn't
you get somebody to send down our two knapsacks, it seems such an
age since we started them? Ask Miss Du Plessis and Miss Carmichael
what they meant giggling at them at the Brock Street station and on
the train that Tuesday morning.--
"Farquhar, did he, did you think it was Marjorie and I who did that,
what he calls giggling?"
"I certainly never thought you did, and I think it is only his banter."
"Neither Marjorie nor I could have so disgraced ourselves. Did you not
see the school-girls behind us? I was ashamed of my sex."
"When you write Corry for me, you must give him a talking to for that."
"Very well; where was I, oh, yes, 'Tuesday morning.'"
I send a few lines by post. If there is anything in the world I can
do for you, Wilks, let me know. If my presence can help you at all,
I'll run up at a moment's warning. Love to all at Bridesdale. Sorry
I made an ass of myself running away. Mail closes and must stop.
Your affectionate friend,
EUGENE CORISTINE.
P.S.--Tell Errol to keep that pipe as a memorial of a poor deluded
wretch who had hoped one day to call him by the paternal name.
Fancy having the good minister for a step father-in-law! No such
luck, as Toner would say. Adieu E.C.
"Is she fond of him, Cecile?"
"Yes, very much so."
"Is it not a pity, when they think so much of one another, that a mere
trifle should keep them apart, perhaps for ever?"
"Yes it is, but I am not sorry for Marjorie. Kind heart and all, she
ought to have had more sense and more forbearance than to have openly
preferred that selfish creature, Mr. Lamb, to your warm-hearted friend."
"Corry is the soul of honour and generosity, Cecile, in spite of his
hideous taste in language."
"That is a mere eccentricity, and does not affect his sterling
qualities. I shall make it my duty to speak to Marjorie again. Good
night, Farquhar dear!"
"Good night, Cecile, my darling, my guardian angel, as Corry rightly
says."
Miss Tryphena Hill was reading Sylvanus' letter in the kitchen, first to
herself. It ran as follows:--
_A Board_ THE SUSAN THOMAS
Friday noon.
_My ever of thee I'm fondly dreaming, Tryphena_,--U sed my spelins
was caple of beterment so I got the tittle out of a song buk in the
cars and wrot it down in the end lefe of the litel testymint you
giv me wile the capen and the nusboy was int lukin on. How duz it
tak yor i. The capen he brung Mrs. T long for a sale. I see Mr.
Corstoene in the cars lukin poekit lik wat is the mater of him. He
wooden cum long on the skuner. Giv my luv to Tryphosa and Timotheus
i can get there names all rite out of the testymint NEW TESTAMENT
Now my ever of thee Tryphena I am orf wunc more on the oshin waive
and the hevin depe and If i never more cum bak but the blew waives
role over yor Silvanus, the TESTAMENT dont spel it with a why, i
left my wil at farthys in the yaler spelin buk on the sheluff nere
the side windy levin all my property to my saley Tryphena. I wud of
kist u of i had dard beefor I leff wen I am more prospuz i wil dar
of I get slaped for it The capen has fyred the blungeybush and i
must go ashore with the dingy and get the tavun boy to get ma a
nenblope out of the orfis
Yore onley luving afekshunit saler boy
SYLVANUS PILGRIM.
Just as Tryphena had finished this touching epistle, a knock came to the
kitchen door. She opened it, and Mr. Perrowne appeared. "Is Timotheus
here?" he asked. Timotheus himself answered, "Yaas sir!" when the parson
said, "Would you mind bringing a spaide to help me to bury my poor
dawg?" The willing Pilgrim rose, and went in quest of the implement,
while Mr. Perrowne walked round to the verandah, under which lay the
inanimate form of his long lost canine friend, over which he mourned
sincerely. The Squire and Miss Halbert came out to assist at the
obsequies, and were soon joined by Miss Carmichael and Mr. Terry, all of
whom regretted the loss of poor Muggins, the children's friend.
"Do you think you will ever see your dog again, Basil?" asked the
doctor's daughter.
"I down't know," replied the parson. "He was part of the creation that
St. Paul says is growning and waiting for the redemption of the body
from pain and disease and death. It used to be said that man ownly is
naturally and necessarily immortal, but that is rubbish, built up on a
pantheistic idea of Platow. If God continues the life of man beyond this
world, I see no reason why He should not continue that of a dawg which
has shared man's fight here below. There are some such good dawgs, don't
you know, moral, kind, faithful dawgs!"
"Is it not the poor Indian who thinks his faithful dog shall bear him
company in another world?" asked Miss Carmichael.
"Yes, it is Low; but really, in the great Sanscrit epic of the Bharatan
war, King Yoodistheer is represented as refusing immortality, unless the
god Indra will let him take his dawg to heaven along with him."
"And left his wife behind, did he not? He did not even hold her
something better than his dog, a little dearer than his horse."
"Ow, now, I think Draupadee died before him. Still, it is a strange fact
though that some people do love animals better than human beings."
"D'ye ken why?" asked the Squire, with a glance at his niece. "It's
because they're no as exacting and fashious as beass."
"Well, there's a lesson for you, Fanny. Good-night. I must gow to my
sermon and the hymns." So Mr. Perrowne departed, and the mourners
returned to the house.
On Sunday it rained; nevertheless all went to their respective churches,
except the Carruthers children, whom Tryphena kept in order, and the
colonel, who sat with Wilkinson. Both clergymen preached impressively
with reference to the events of the past week, and, at the close of the
services, they both repaired to Bridesdale for dinner. In the afternoon
they rode to their respective stations, but the Squire stayed at home to
teach the children and read to them, while they devoured the contents of
the lawyer's elaborate boxes. Tryphosa and Timotheus had to do their
singing in the kitchen, in which they were joined by Tryphena and
Maguffin. The latter had a very soft rich voice, and made a great
addition to the musical performance. The colonel smoked an after dinner
cigar, and Mr. Terry a pipe, on a dry part of the verandah. The young
ladies overhauled the entire collection of literature sent to Miss
Carmichael and to Wilkinson, and read a good many things that were not
for Sunday. As to the three matrons, it is nobody's business what they
did with their afternoon. Mr. Perrowne came back to his Fanny in the
evening, and Mr. Errol, to have "a crack" with Mrs. Carmichael. Monday
was fair enough to permit of a game of golf between the parsons, with
the colonel and the veteran for spectators. Miss Halbert went home in
the evening, and so, except for the wounded dominie upstairs and the
colonel, things went on in the usual jog-trot way, for Miss Du Plessis
had been at Bridesdale before. Letters and papers came from Coristine to
the bedridden dominie, and another package for Marjorie, before Saturday
night, but none for anybody else, for the reason that Miss Du Plessis
had written him simply at Wilkinson's dictation, and Mrs. Carruthers and
Miss Carmichael had not written at all. In her round of household duties
and the care of a young family, the former had forgotten all about her
letter, and the latter did not know what to say for herself, and did not
feel disposed to humiliate her sense of self-respect by reminding her
aunt of her promise. Another Sunday passed without other incident than
Mr. Errol's visit. Mr. Perrowne spent most of his spare time at the
Halbert's. But, Monday night's post brought an official envelope,
type-written, from the offices of Tylor, Woodruff and White for Miss M.
Carmichael. She opened it, with a feeling of irritation against
somebody, and read the wretched type-writing:--
_Dear Madam_,--I have the honour to inform you that I have received
a cable message from Mr. P.R. Mac Smaill, W.S., of Edinburgh, to
the effect, that, as very large interests are involved in the case
which I had the honour to claim on your behalf as next of kin, his
nephew, Mr. Douglas, sailed to-day (Saturday) for Montreal, vested
with full powers to act in concert with your solicitors. As my firm
has no written instructions from you to act in the matter, I am
prepared to hand over the documents and information in my
possession to the solicitors whom you and your guardians may be
pleased to appoint to deal with Mr. Douglas on his arrival.
Awaiting your instructions, I have the honour to remain,
Dear madam,
Your obedient servant,
EUGENE CORISTINE.
Nothing but the signature was in his writing; this was terrible, the
worst blow of all.
She took the letter to uncle John in the office and laid it down before
him. He read it gravely, and then bestowed a kiss of congratulation on
his niece. "I aye kennt your fayther was weel conneckit, Marjorie, but
lairge interests in the cen o' writers to the signet like Mac Smaill
means a graun' fortune, a muckle tocher, lassie. We maun caa' your
mither doon to talk it owre." So Mrs. Carmichael came to join the party.
Her daughter wished to appoint some other firm of lawyers in Toronto, or
else to leave all in the hands of Mac Smaill, but the Squire and Mrs.
Carruthers would not hear of either alternative. They knew Coristine,
and could trust him to work in the matter like one of themselves; so the
young lady's scruples were outwardly silenced, and the Squire was duly
authorized to conduct the correspondence with the lawyer. This he did in
twofold fashion. First he wrote:--
EUGENE CORISTINE, ESQ.,
Messrs. Tylor, Woodruff and White.
_Dear Sir_, Although my niece, Marjorie Carmichael, is of legal
age, it is her desire and that of her mother that I, in the
capacity of guardian, should authorize you or your firm, as I
hereby do in her name, to prosecute her claim as the heir of the
late Dr. James Douglas Carmichael, M.P., to the fortune advertised
by P.R. Mac Smaill, W.S., of Edinburgh as falling her late father,
and to conduct all necessary negotiations with Mr. Mac Smaill and
his clients in the case. Kindly notify me at once of your
acceptance of the trust, and make any necessary demands for funds
and documents as they may be required. Yours,
JOHN CARRUTHERS, J.P.
The other letter was:--
_My Dear Coristine_, What do you mean, you scamp, by frightening
the wits out of my poor lassie with that typewritten bit of legal
formality? I have a great mind to issue a warrant for your arrest,
and send Rigby down with it, to bring you before me and Halbert and
Walker. Man, we would put you through better than Osgoode Hall!
But, seriously, we all want you to stick to this next of kin case.
Spare no expense travelling about, especially if your travel is in
this direction. I think you are not judging Marjorie fairly, not
that I would throw my bonnie niece at the head of a prince of the
blood, but I have taken a great liking to you, and I know that you
have more than a great liking for her. So, no more nonsense.
Honoria and Marjorie (Mrs. Carmichael), and all the rest of
Bridesdale, send kind love and say "come back soon."
Yours affectionately,
JOHN CARRUTHERS.
Mrs. Carruthers also wrote a note that will explain itself:--
_Dear Mr. Coristine_,--Please to overlook my long delay in replying
to your kind letter and in thanking you for your goodness to the
children, who miss you very much, I intended to get Marjorie or
her mother to write for me, but in the bustle of housework,
preserving, and so on, forgot, which was not kind of me. Father
desires me to remember him to you, and says he longs for another
smoke and talk. The others have a delicacy in writing, so I am
compelled to do it myself, though a very poor correspondent. John
has told me about Mr. Douglas coming out to see about Marjorie's
fortune. As I suppose he will want to see her and her mother, will
you please bring him up yourself, and arrange to give us a long
visit. Marjorie Thomas says there are many new flowers out, and
that she and my little ones have hardly touched the creek since you
left us.
With kind regards,
Your very sincere friend,
HONORIA CARRUTHERS.
Coristine came home jaded on Wednesday evening. The day had been hot,
and in the absence of all the other principals, the work had been heavy.
He had interested himself, also, in lady typewriters since his return,
and had compelled some to take a much-needed holiday. Four unopened
letters from Bridesdale were in his pocket, which he had saved for after
dinner. At that meal, the young men of Mrs. Marsh's grown-up family
rallied him on his lack of appetite and general depression. He had not
made a pun for four days running, a thing unprecedented. Dinner over, he
slipped away to his rooms, lit a pipe, and read the letters, the
contents of two of which, three including the Squire's formal one, are
already known. Another, in a fine clerkly hand, was from Mr. Errol.
_My Dear Mr. Coristine_,--A thousand thanks for the bonny pipe,
which I fear you must have missed. I shall take great care of it as
a memorial of pleasant, though exciting, days. I wish you were here
to help Perrowne and me at our cricket and golf, and to have a
little chat now and then on practical theology. My ministerial
friend is that infatuated with Miss Halbert (they are engaged, you
know) I can get very little out of him. Mrs. Carmichael sends her
kind regards. Her daughter Marjorie is looking pale and lifeless, I
do trust the dear lassie is not going like her poor father. We all
love to hear her sing, but she has got that Garden of Gethsemane
poem of his set to music. It is very beautiful but far too sad for
her young life. I have been visiting your friend Mr. Wilkinson,
pastorally, and am just delighted with him. He is a man of a very
fine mind and most devout spirit. Miss Cecile and he will suit one
another admirably. Colonel Morton is wearying for your society, and
so is the good old grandfather. If it will not be putting you to
too much trouble, will you ask your bookseller to get me a cheap
Leipsic edition of Augustine's "De Civitate Dei," as I wish to
polish up my patristic Latin, in spite of the trash written in it,
that still defiles our theological teaching. I have been visiting
Matilda Nagle, and even that old reprobate, Newcome, who got a
terrible shaking in his last nefarious adventure. Matilda is doing
remarkably well, and her boy is quite bright and intelligent. Half
a dozen cases of sickness in my two charges have kept me from
writing, especially as one was a case of infection. Haste ye back
to all your warm friends here.
Yours very faithfully,
HUGH ERROL.
The last was a stuffy envelope addressed correctly to Mister Eugene
Coristine, in the hand of a domestic, Tryphosa probably, and contained
some half dried flowers, among which a blue Lobelia and a Pentstemon
were recognizable, along with a scrap of a letter in large irregular
characters.
_Derest Eugene_--Wat makes you stay sew long a way. This is meter
as Pol sed to Petre put on the gridel and take of the heter. A lot
more flours are out in bloome like the ones I send with my love so
dear fete have been in the creke sints you went a way I think that
pig is sory she made you go now the chilren granpa sed to me to
rite you to come back for a smok. Dere mister Bigls has gone too
and no nice one is left give my love to Tyler and say he must let
you go for the house is sew quite their is no more fun in it. Feena
got a funy leter from old Sil with moste orfle speling the pusy is
well but pore Mug in ded. It was verry good of you to send me
candes but I like to have you beter Your litel love
MARJORIE.
The lawyer put this letter reverently away in a special drawer which
contained his peculiar treasures, but registered a vow to reprove his
little love for applying the word pig to a young lady. He did not know
whether to be glad or sorry that Miss Carmichael's case was left in his
hands. Of course he could not refuse it. If this man Douglas had to go
up to Bridesdale, he supposed he would have to introduce him, and watch
him on behalf of his client. A great heiress, perhaps with a title for
all he knew, would be very unlikely to take more than a passing interest
in her solicitor. Still, it cut him to the heart that the girl was as
Mr. Errol represented her. Doubtless she was quite right in not
acknowledging his business note in person. Then he laid down his pipe,
put his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands, exclaiming
bitterly, "O Marjorie, Marjorie."
Before the end of the week, the Squire received answers to his official
and non-official letters, accepting the trust confided to him, and
regretting that Miss Carmichael had given the writer no opportunity of
more fully explaining himself. The non-official letter also stated that
the lady's position was so much changed by the prospect of a large
fortune as to make it little less than dishonourable in him to press his
suit, at least in the meantime. Mrs. Carruthers also received a promise
that the lawyer would, if practicable, accompany Mr. Douglas to
Bridesdale. Mr. Errol reported a nice letter received by him from the
same quarter, along with the "Civitate Dei" and some reviews. Wilkinson
was in clover so far as papers and magazines were concerned, and both
Miss Carmichael and Miss Du Plessis were remembered with appropriate
literary pabulum of the same nature. More bonbons for the juveniles
arrived by Saturday night, and a letter for Marjorie.
_My Dear Little Love, Marjorie._--It was very kind of you to
remember your poor boy in his exile from home in the big, hot,
dusty city. I liked your dear little letter very much, all except
that one word about you know who. I am sure you did not think, or
you would never have written so of one so good and kind to you and
me. You will not say that any more I am sure. I have put your
letter and the flowers you were so kind as to pick and dry for me
in my best drawer where I keep my treasures. I send you a new
picture book just out, with many coloured plates of flowers in it.
When I come up you must tell me if you know their names. Please
tell your cousins' grandpapa that I would like very much if he were
here, or I were there, that we might have a nice quiet smoke and
talk together. I am sorry poor old Muggins is dead. You did not
tell me what killed him. Tryphena ought to make Sylvanus buy a
spelling book to study while he is on watch in your papa's ship.
Your papa and mamma asked me to go for a sail with them, but I had
to go to town. Now, my little love, be very kind and nice to
everybody, and above all to your dear cousins, big and little, and
when I come up and hear how good you have been, we will fish in the
creek on week days and sing some of those pretty hymns on Sunday.
Do you ever go to see my poor sick friend Wilks? I think he would
like to see a little girl some times. Try him with a bonbon and
with the poetry under the pictures of flowers in your new book.
Give my love to all the kind friends, and keep a great lot for your
dear little self.
From your own EUGENE.
"Where is the book?" asked Marjorie, when the letter was read to her by
the lady whom she had written so slightingly of. Miss Carmichael looked
over her own mail matter, and found a large flat volume addressed Miss
Marjorie Carmichael, while the other packages bore simply Miss
Carmichael. She opened it up, and found the book demanded. The lawyer
had been so full of the name that he had written it mechanically,
instead of Miss Marjorie Thomas. Marjorie was not well pleased that her
cousin should have usurped her book, but loyalty to Eugene made her
suppress any expression of indignation. Mr. Terry had to read that
letter through his spectacles, and Tryphosa; and on Sunday she proposed
to invade the sanctity of Mr. Wilks' chamber and interest him in both
letter and book.
The Sunday came and went, and then the slow week dragged along. Whoever
would have thought that, a short time ago, they had been so cheerful, so
merry, even with danger threatening and death at their door. The dominie
was out of his room at last, walking about with his arm in a sling,
rejoicing in changes of raiment which Coristine had sent from his
boarding house by express and the mail waggon. The city clothes suited
him better than his pedestrian suit, and made him the fashionable man of
the neighbourhood. In conversation over his friend, he remarked that he
was pleased to find Corry toning down, writing quiet sensible letters,
without a single odious pun. "Puir laddie!" said the Squire, "if it wad
mak him blither, I could stan' a haill foolscap sheet o' them. I'm feard
the city's no' agreein' wi' him." Before noon on Friday there came a
hard rider to the Bridesdale gate, a special telegraph messenger from
Collingwood, with a telegram for Mrs. Carruthers. She took it hastily
from Timotheus, and, breaking the seal, read to the group gathered about
her: "If agreeable, Douglas and I will be with you by Saturday's stage.
Please answer by bearer. Eugene Coristine." The Squire, home a little
sooner than usual, said: "Let me answer that, Honoria," and retired to
his office. When he came out, it was with a written paper in his hand,
which he read for approval. "You and Douglas heartily welcome--will meet
you at station, so do not disappoint." This was accepted by a unanimous
vote; after which the messenger partook of a hasty meal, as did his
horse, and then galloped back to town. "The waggonette will hold six,"
said the Squire; "that's Coristine, Mr. Douglas and me. Who are the
other three? Will you no come, Marjorie? The ride'll dae ye guid, lass."
No, Miss Carmichael declined, and the Squire was inwardly wroth. Mrs.
Carmichael took the place offered to her daughter, and Marjorie Thomas
and Mr. Terry volunteered to make up the required number. It seemed
such a long time till Saturday morning, but Marjorie tried to shorten
it, by running everywhere and telling everybody that Eugene was coming.
The whole house caught the infection. Tryphena and Tryphosa were kept
busy, preparing already for a late six o'clock dinner on the morrow.
There was a putting of rooms in order for the coming guests, during
which Miss Carmichael, conscience stricken, returned the lawyer's verses
to the leaves of Browning. She dreaded meeting the author of them, and
found comfort in the fact that he was not coming alone. If she had not
been, in her own estimation, such a coward, she would have gone on a
visit to Fanny, but she dared not thus offend her uncle and aunt, and
desert her mother and Cecile. What was he coming for? She had not sent
for him. Why did she not want him to come? She did not know, and it was
the right of nobody to question her on the subject. She only knew that
she was very unhappy, and hoped she would not act stupidly before the
stranger from Edinburgh.
That night the Squire received a letter from Coristine, written on
Thursday, saying that Mr. Douglas had arrived, and was a very fine
fellow; and that, as soon as he had made up his mind to go to
Bridesdale, a telegram would be sent. He also requested Mr. Carruthers,
if it was not trespassing too far upon his kindness, to secure the
rooms, which the postmistress had told him she had to let, for Miss
Graves, a young lady in his firm's offices, who needed complete rest and
change of scene, and who would either go up by the stage on Saturday or
accompany Mr. Douglas and him at a later date. The letter was read at
the tea table, and Miss Du Plessis said she knew Marion Graves very
well, and was glad to think she would be so near, as she was a lovely
girl; but what a strange thing for Mr. Coristine to recommend her to
come to Flanders! "Oi'm thinkin'," remarked Mr. Terry, "that av the
young lady in dilikit loike, it 'ud be a marcy to kape her aff that
rough stage; so, iv yer willin', Squoire, I'll shtay at home an' lave my
place to put the poor lady in inshtid av me." Mrs. Carruthers would not
hear of the veteran's losing the drive, and resigned her seat. Honoria
would probably want her at any rate, so it was very foolish and selfish
in her to have thought of going. "There maun be some one o' the female
persuasion, as good old Newberry calls it, to invite Miss Graves and to
keep her company, especially if she's an invalid," said the Squire. "I
will go, uncle," said Miss Carmichael, quietly. The uncle was amazed at
this new turn things were taking, and arranged in his mind to have Miss
Graves and Mr. Douglas with him in the front seat, and Coristine between
the two Marjories behind. After tea, Timotheus and Maguffin were sent to
invite Miss Halbert and the two clergymen to the Saturday evening
dinner, but, by Mrs. Carruthers' directions, the postmistress was not
notified that her rooms were wanted. If Miss Graves were all that Cecile
said of her, she had remarked, she would be better at Bridesdale, and
would also be an acceptable addition to the number of their guests.
Saturday morning was a time of wild excitement for Marjorie. She went to
the brook by anticipation, to look at the sportive fish, and turned up a
flat stone or two, to be sure the crawfish, which the ignorant Timotheus
called crabs, were still there. She was prepared to report favourably on
the creek. Then she journeyed along the banks, looking for new flowers,
and over the stepping stones to the opposite shore, and up the hill to
the strip of brush, returning with a handful of showy wild blossoms.
Next, she visited the stable yard, and watched Timotheus and Maguffin
polishing up the waggonette and the harness of the horses. The colonel
was there, and, in answer to Marjorie's enquiry regarding his interest
in the scene, said: "You are not going to leave me behind, you little
puss, although you did not invite me. I have invited myself, and am
going to accompany you on hohseback."
"Are you going to take Guff too, colonel?"
"Who is Guff, my deah?"
"Don't you know Guff?"
"No; I am not awahe that I do."
"Oh Guffee am de niggah
Wif de tah on his heel;
He done trabble roun' so libely
Dat he's wuff a mighty deal."
"You do not shuhly mean Maguffin?"
"Of course I do; who else could be Guff?"
"No, I shall not take Maguffin, seeing we come right back. Had we been
going to put up anywheah, of couhse, he would have been indispensable."
"What a funny name! Do you mean the waggonette?"
"By what, Mahjohie?"
"By this fencepail?"
"Silly child, I did not say that. I said indispensable, which means,
cannot be done without."
"Oh!" answered Marjorie; "it's a long word, is it?"
There was no necessity for starting before ten, at which hour Timotheus
brought round the waggonette, and Maguffin the colonel's horse. The
Squire assisted the two Marjories to the front seat, and took his place
beside the younger. The colonel chivalrously bowed to the ladies while
on foot; then, he mounted his horse with a bound, and the transport and
escort trotted away. Mr. Terry, alone and neglected, betook himself to
the Carruthers children, who soon found many uses to which a
good-natured grandfather could be put, to the advantage and pleasure of
his grandchildren.