Captain Harefield was at the wedding an honoured guest, as all could
see, and for a very good reason, it was said. Through the Blackford
groom, it had come to be known in Portie that a change had fallen on the
fortunes of Captain Harefield.
Through the sad and sudden death of a distant cousin, he had become heir
to a large estate in one of the southern English counties, and though he
might have a while to wait for the full enjoyment of his inheritance,
and for the tide that was to come with it, there was in the mean time a
happy change in his circumstances as far as money was concerned. He had
not come to Blackford House this time, to escape duns. And his sister
had not come to take care of him.
The chances were that he had an object in view in coming, and on the
wedding day more than one of those who saw the looks he cast at the
bride and her maidens, had felt satisfied as to what that object might
be. Mr Dawson was one of these.
There were several guests still in the house, when a week had passed.
Mr Dawson and his sister were sitting one afternoon on the terrace,
when Captain Harefield rode up, and in a little he had joined Miss
Dawson in the garden. The father watched them as they came and went
among the trees.
"Jean has the ba' at her foot this time, I'm thinking," said he. "Weel,
weel! It it pleases her, it will please me."
"She'll never please ye in that way. Dinna think it."
"I'm no' so sure that it would please me--no' so sure as I was this time
last year. But I think she might be satisfied."
"She'll need a stronger hand to guide her."
"She has strength and sense to guide _him_, and that might do as well."
"It wouldna be for her happiness were she to be persuaded to such a
marriage," said Miss Jean gravely.
"Persuaded! No, that is not likely. But, Jean, I like the lad, though
he is no' a Solomon, I confess, and he has a high place in the world--or
he will ha'e ane--and Jean would do him credit."
"High place or no', he is no' her equal in any important sense. If she
cared for him, she might guide him and put up with him, as many another
woman has to do. As to persuading her--no one could do that; but if she
thought your heart was set on it, she might persuade herself to her ain
unhappiness."
"I'se never persuade her. And I would ha'e ill sparin' her. But it
would be a fine position, and she would keep it we'll."
"Ay, if she could take it with a good conscience. But that she canna
do," said Miss Jean.
When the bustle attending the wedding was over and all the guests were
gone, a new life began at Saughleas. As far as George was concerned, it
was not just the life his father would have chosen for him. But George
was a man now, and every day that passed proved to his father that he
was a man that might safely be trusted to guide himself. It would have
pleased his father that he should at once have taken his place as the
young laird of Saughleas. There were many signs among the other
proprietors of the neighbourhood, that he would have been welcomed to
the houses of people who had held hitherto only business intercourse
with his father.
There was no need for George to return to the counting-house again. Mr
Dawson acknowledged himself to be a richer man than was generally
supposed, and George, as the heir of Saughleas, might "take a long
tether," as far as the spending of money was concerned.
And he need not lead an idle life. All the congenial occupations of a
country gentleman were open to him, to say nothing of the amusements
which only men of comparative leisure could enjoy. Or he might farm his
own land. Whether he could make such farming profitable to himself
might be doubtful, but he might do good in the countryside, and he would
thus have an opportunity of bringing himself into contact with people
whose acquaintance was to be desired,--the lairds and gentlemen farmers
of the north.
It was to his sister oftener than to his son that all this was said; and
listening to him, Miss Jean could not but wonder what had become of the
sense and judgment that had guided him through all his life till now.
"When you are dead and gone, and George has a son of his ain, he'll get
willingly in the countryside what you are so anxious for him to take
now. It would bring neither the honour nor the pleasure that you are
dreaming about for him, if he were to turn his back upon--the shop--for
that was the foundation o' your fortune, though you are a banker and a
ship-owner now. Let George win his ain way, as his father did before
him; it will be mair to his credit, and mair to his happiness, than any
such change as ye would fain see in his way of life. And he'll be far
safer."
"A body would think to hear ye, Jean, that I was like to be ashamed o'
the shop, and the makin' o' my ain way in the world; I'm so far from
that, that I seek no other credit or honour in the countryside than what
I have won as a man of business. But it might be different with my
son."
"Weel, honour and consideration seldom come the sooner for the seeking.
They'll come to George in good time, if he shall deserve them. It's
little honour he would be like to get from men o' sense if he were
content to sit down with what you ha'e won for him, putting himself in
the place that ye ha'e honestly and honourably won for yourself. That
would be for the honour o' neither you nor him, though ye may think it."
"It was for him I won it. There would be neither pleasure nor profit
for me, at my time o' life, in seekin' any change. But I acknowledge it
would be a pleasure to me to see my son taking his right place in the
countryside. It is no' as if he werena fit for it. Just look at him!
Who is there to compare with him? And he has as good blood in his veins
as the most o' them, when a' is said."
"He'll get his right place in time, never fear. And he'll get it all
the readier that he's no' in haste about it."
In the mean time George was in his father's office, setting himself to
the mastering of all details and succeeding therein, in a way that
astonished his father. It was that part of the business that had to do
with shipping interests which he liked best, and which chiefly claimed
his attention at this time. His father acknowledged that he had a clear
head, and a power of application that would stand him in stead either as
merchant or landed proprietor. And the pleasure he had in his son's
companionship, and in his sympathy with his work, went far to keep him
silent as to any change in his present course.
As for George, he was for the most part silent also, because he was
unwilling by opposition to his father's wishes to put in jeopardy the
new and pleasant relations existing between them. But to his sister and
his aunt he spoke plainly enough.
If any of them were to have special consideration from their neighbours,
it must be because of his father's life, and what he had accomplished in
it. As for his assuming the position of the young laird of Saughleas
while his father continued the laborious life of a man of business, that
would be only contemptible. If he were to take his own way in life, he
must win the right to do so, and he made no secret of the possibility
that, as the years went on, his way of life might in some respects be
different from his father's.
He pleased his father in one way. He took great interest in all that
concerned the management of the estate. He was fond of the place as his
home. They agreed in most things which concerned its prosperity and
prospects, and if George was less eager than his father in his desire to
add to its extent, he did not vex him by showing this too plainly. They
differed in opinion about this, and about other things often. But Mr
Dawson put great restraint upon himself at such times, striving to
remember that George had a right as a man to hold his own opinions and
to act upon them though they differed from his. George, on his part,
felt no temptation to fail in the perfect respect he owed to his father,
in his words and in his ways. And so, in course of time, things bade
fair to adjust themselves to the satisfaction of both.
As was to be supposed, Jean and her aunt looked on with deep interest,
while the father and son were thus happily though warily renewing their
acquaintance, but they said little about it, even to each other. During
the first month after May went away there was much going on at
Saughleas. Emily Corbett, who had come for the wedding, stayed a while,
and Hugh stayed also, though he was strong and well and able for any
thing now. There were young people coming to the house for their
sakes,--Marion Calderwood, who was Emily's chief friend, and the young
Petries, and others; and there were expeditions here and there, and
garden parties at various houses; and Jean's time and thoughts were much
occupied.
Captain Harefield made one of such parties now and then, but not so
frequently as had been the case last summer. He was a person of more
importance at Blackford House now than he had been then, and though his
sister was not there to take care of him, there were others there ready
and willing to do the work in which it must be confessed she had failed.
He was so good-natured, and so unaccustomed to exert his own will
against any one who assumed the right to guide him, that he was easily
taken possession of. It was agreeable also to be made much of, to be
consulted and included in all arrangements for business or pleasure, so
that he did not find his stay at Blackford House "a bore," as he had
done last summer, and he was less inclined to stray away into other
parts to look for pleasure.
The less frequently that he came to Saughleas, the more kindly and
frankly he was received by Jean, who liked him very well since he seemed
to have put foolish thoughts out of his head. But he came often enough
to put foolish thoughts into the heads of other people. The young
people who came to the house, watched with interest the Captain's shy
devotion, and Jean's friendly indifference, not quite sure the last was
altogether real. Mrs Seldon, during the weeks of her stay, never
doubted as to his object in coming, and sensible of the importance
attached to having a place in county society and a title in prospect,
she doubted as little as to the result of his devotion, and Mr Dawson,
with a mingling of feelings which he could not easily have analysed,
repeated to himself that "Jean had the ball at her foot, whatever way it
might end." But Miss Jean held fast to her first opinion, that Jean was
safe from any temptation to yield to him, and so was another who had not
had Miss Jean's experience.
"Oh! Miss Jean, I am the most unfortunate little creature in all
Portie, I think. I'm ay doing or saying something that I shouldna."
"My dear, ye are worse than unfortunate if that be true. What have ye
been at now?"
"It was quite true, what I said, only I wish Mr Dawson hadna heard us.
We were speaking about--about Miss Dawson--"
Marion hesitated. She was not quite sure how Miss Jean herself would
like to hear that the young folk had been discussing her niece and her
affairs so freely.
"It was only that he heard us. I'm ay vexing Mr Dawson, I think."
"Are you?" said Miss Jean, smiling.
"Ay, am I. Don't you mind the apple-tree that was broken, and don't you
mind?" several other circumstances that it vexed the girl to remember.
But Jean herself coming in, the vexation of the moment could not be
discussed and Marion was not sorry.
It had happened thus. She had come early to Saughleas with the young
Petries intending to set out at once on an expedition that had been
planned to the Castle, but something had delayed several of their party,
and the younger folk were whiling away the time of waiting, chatting and
laughing as they sat on the grass. By and by the well-known dog-cart
passed.
"Haloo! There is your Englishman, Marion," said Hugh Corbett. "I
wonder he didn't come in. He'll be back again to go with us, unless we
make haste to get away."
"Well, and why should not he come with us? The more the merrier," said
his sister.
"And he's no' _my_ Englishman," said Marion with dignity; "and for that
matter ye are only an Englishman yoursel'."
"Only an Englishman! Just hear her!" said Hugh.
"And ye're not even an Englishman. You are neither one thing nor the
other," said Grace Petrie laughing. "If ye were to bide a while in
Portie, ye might maybe pass for a Scotchman, however."
"Oh, indeed! Might I? That's encouraging."
This was a favourite subject of discussion between these young people,
and much banter passed with regard to the nationality of the Corbetts.
"But he is no' Marion's Englishman anyway," said Jack Petrie in a
little. "He only falls back on Marion when Miss Dawson's company is no'
to be had."
"And it's only because Marion saves him the trouble of saying a word.
She is such a chatterbox," said Hugh. "And he'll have to fall back on
her altogether soon, I'm thinking."
"I'm sure that's no' what our Milly thinks," said Jack. "She says that
Miss Dawson--"
"Your Milly! She judges other folk by hersel'! Miss Dawson wouldna
look at him," said Marion Calderwood.
"But she does look at him, whiles," said Grace.
"But that's because she's no' ay thinkin' about--about the like o' that
Him indeed! He might as well go and ask for one of the young princesses
at once."
They all laughed and exclaimed.
"Well, she would be no more above him in one way than Miss Dawson is in
another. A baronet? What o' that? Any body might be a baronet, I
suppose," said Marion.
"But nothing short of a lord will do for Jean Dawson, ye think. I doubt
she'll bide a whilie," said Jack scornfully.
"And she can afford to bide a whilie. Miss Dawson is sufficient for
herself," said Marion loftily. "But I don't expect you to understand
me, Jack; and I don't think it is nice for us to be speaking that way
about Miss Dawson."
"I agree with you," said Emily.
"So do I," said Hugh. "But I have one question to ask, and only one.
Who of all the gentlemen you have ever seen would you think good enough
or great enough for Miss Dawson."
"Oh! as to good enough, that is not what Marion means," said Grace.
"No. Nor great enough," said Emily. "Well--just suitable--worthy of
her, in every way? In mind, body, and estate. Come, let us hear."
"Yes, come, let us hear."
"In mind, body, and estate," repeated Emily laughing. "I think enough
has been said already," and Marion rose to go away. "But if ye will
have it--I never saw any body in every respect worthy of Miss Dawson--
except, perhaps--But yet--" Marion hesitated, and then added,--
"I dinna believe there is another in all Scotland like Miss Dawson."
"I agree--nor in England either," said Hugh. "But I rise to ask a
question--"
He had risen, but it was evidently with the design of intercepting
Marion, who was moving over the grass intent on getting away.
"I leave it to the company if we have not a right to hear what is to be
said; and, what is more, you are not going away till you tell us."
He did not touch her, but he looked quite ready to do it.
"Nonsense, Hugh! You are not to vex Marion," said his sister; but she
drew near with the rest to listen.
"`Not one in all Scotland,' she said," repeated Grace laughing.
"Let us stick to the point," said Hugh.
Marion reddened and fidgeted, and measured the distance with her eye
with the evident intention of running away, and all this Hugh noted--
nodding and smiling.
"Ye canna gar Marion speak, if she's no willin'. I've seen her tried,"
said another Petrie.
"Why shouldna I speak?" said Marion, realising the impossibility of
getting away. "Except that--it's no' a thing to speak about--here.
What I mean is this. But yet if she were to give her whole heart to any
one--he would be the right one--even if--but she would never care for
one who was not worthy. Now let me go."
"Yes--certainly. Well?"
Marion had made up her mind to say no more. But when Grace Petrie,
tossing her head and laughing, said that she could guess who the
exception might be, she changed her mind again.
"Well!" said Hugh, drawing still near as she receded. "`Except,
perhaps,' whom?"
"I except no one that ever I saw, for there is no one that ever I saw
who, in all things--in mind, body, and estate, as you say--I would think
fit for Miss Dawson. But what I was going to say was--except, perhaps--
George--only he is her brother, ye ken."
"George!" echoed, many voices.
"And what's George more than another?" asked Jack scornfully. "She'll
be saying next, that there's naebody like _him_ in all Scotland."
And then Marion, glancing up at the window beneath which they had been
sitting, met the wondering look of Mr Dawson.
"He must have heard every word," said Grace in a whisper.
Marion turned and fled to seek comfort with Miss Jean.
They went away to the Castle, and Miss Dawson went with them; Captain
Harefield came to the house soon after they set out, but he did not
follow them, though Mr Dawson suggested that he might easily overtake
them before they reached the place. It was Mr Dawson himself he had
come to see; and when they all came back, and the young folk had had
their tea and were gone home together in the moonlight, her father had
something to say to Jean.
"It's a comfort that you can just leave it to Jean herself," said his
sister, when he told his news to her. Of what her own opinion might be
she said nothing, nor was she curious to hear what Mr Dawson might
think now about the chance that his daughter had of becoming the wife of
Captain Harefield. "It is a thing that she must decide for herself; and
indeed she will let no one else decide it."
There was a measure of comfort in that view of the matter. For though
Mr Dawson was ambitious for his daughter, Captain Harefield as a man
with expectations was by no means so interesting to him personally as he
had been last year when he had none. He knew by Jean's face at the
first word spoken, that her aunt was right.
"I gave him his answer last year," said she.
"But it's no' an unheard of thing that a woman should change her mind,"
said her father dryly.
"I have had no reason to change my mind, but many reasons against it.
Fancy my leaving you and George and the happy life we are just
beginning, to go away with a stranger to folk that would look down on
me, and think he had thrown himself away?"
"I could make it worth their while to think otherwise." But Jean shook
her head. "Last year you might, when he had nothing."
"As for his friends--ye need ha'e little to do with them. I dare say
none o' them can ha'e a higher sense o' their ain importance than his
sister, Mrs Eastwood, and I think ye could hold your own with her."
"If it were worth my while. But, papa--he is nothing in the world to
me."
"He is not a clever man, I ken that. But I like him. He is sweet
tempered, and he is a gentleman, and he cares for you. And I think,
with you to stand by him, he might be a good man and a useful."
"But, papa--the weariness of it, even if I cared for him."
"But that might come in time."
"No, papa. I am not--going with him. He will find some one who will
care for him, and who will fill the high position that he can give her
better than I could do."