THE COLONEL'S ANSWER.
Their love permitted and acknowledged, to Gillian Lamond and Dove it
seemed more than ever a fact and reality, and how happy they were in
their young hearts, which were filled with gratitude to Mr.
Gainswood. But the latter still viewed their engagement with
undisguised coldness; there was no doubt about that feature in the
affair. He had abruptly consented to it, but with one sternly
impressed proviso, that it should be kept as secret as possible,
admitted to none, denied to all, till the proper time came, as such
arrangements were better not to be canvassed by any coterie of girls,
and old female gossips, till the time came, and that had but one
meaning full of joy to the pair as they heard him and gave their
promise; but another time came when Mr. Gainswood rubbed his hands
and ground his teeth with pleasure at his own foresight in this
matter.
The Indian mails were watched, and the Colonel's reply anxiously
looked for by all; but Gillian had a perfect and perplexing
consciousness that since that day on which the engagement had been
permitted, the temper of Mr. Gainswood, and his general bearing
towards himself, had not been improved. He knew not what to make of
it, but trusted vaguely to his father's letter for explaining all.
To his unfortunate employés his manner became almost savage at times,
as upon them he could vent his secret wrath unfettered.
Weeks passed on, and no letter came from India; the lovers counted
the days, and yet, with them, the time passed happily enough and fast
too; equally quickly did they pass with busy Mr. Gainswood, for when
not drudging among the drudges in his spacious offices, laying snares
for clients, bullying his debtors, toadying or doing something
equally dignifying to further his own interests, he was attending
religious meetings or others, with reference to which his name was
sure to be reported prominently by the provincial press.
One morning, among many others a letter from India--_the_ expected
letter was laid on his desk. He uttered a fierce snort, or
malediction, but under his breath, as he snatched it up, and by legal
force of habit, on glancing at the postmark, he saw that he should
have had it the day before.
"Whose duty was it to prepare these letters for me--yours, or Mr.
Smith's?" he sternly asked one of his clerks.
"Either Mr. Smith or I, sir--but I left it at the bottom of the
letter-box by mistake, and please--"
"You and Mr. Smith," he thundered out to the trembling lad, "may go
to the cashier, get what is due to you, and quit my service. I never
forgive a dereliction of duty--go!"
The unfortunate fellow saw it was hopeless to urge anything, and
slunk away, with a sick heart, no doubt. He was one of those who,
from day to day, and year to year, plodded on, under-paid and
over-worked, till every hope had died away, and every higher
aspiration faded out amid the wearying process of the dullest labour
with its ceaseless monotony.
And now for the letter of the Colonel, which was dated from Calcutta,
and some time back, as it had been following him "by dawk" for
several weeks, as he came down country. It was a manly and
soldier-like letter, filled with the warmest profession of regard for
Gainswood, and intense gratitude to him for the care and affection
bestowed by that personage on his only son, the last left him by the
effects and contingencies of life and service in India.
"The proposed marriage of which you write me," continued Colonel
Lamond, "is quite what I wish should be, and is in every way the
fulfilment of a hope that often occurred to me, though I never hinted
of it. The two sisters, our dear dead wives, loved each other with
great tenderness, and for both their sakes, as well as Gillian's, I
shall dearly love your daughter Dove. I often think of her now, when
all duty is past, and I am left over brandy-pawnee and a cheroot in
my lonely bungalow. I remember her well when she was a sweet wee
birdie indeed, only some three or four years old, and when I could
little think she would ever become a daughter to me. Kiss her for my
sake, and say I shall bring her a suite of gold ornaments, the best
that Delhi can produce and that a queen might wear.
"Before that time, brother Gainswood, I have some work cut out for
me. I have to take command of a little mixed force of all arms,
destined to act against some of the hill tribes that are marauding
near the Bhotan frontier. This will close my long service in India,
and luckily it will only be a flash in the pan, as we used to say.
The moment it is over, and the field force is broken up, I shall
start for Europe to figure at the marriage, so the youngsters must
wait a few months for the sake of an old man who loves them well; and
so, God bless you all!"
Then followed a postscript about the repurchase of Avon-na-gillian,
which the lawyer read with bitter impatience, and muttered with a
saturnine smile on his thin lips.
"Long ere this he has been on the march towards Bhotan, where bullets
and poisoned arrows will be flying, and one of these may--well--well,
but we are all in the hands of the Lord, so let me not
anticipate--let me not anticipate," he added, for this man could
actually cant to himself!
"My poor old father going to fight again!" exclaimed Gillian, on the
letter being read to him. "Oh, Uncle Gainswood, but for his
determined wish and my love for Dove, what a coward and slave I
should feel myself just now."
"Don't be melodramatic, Gillian," said Mr. Gainswood, eyeing the lad
gloomily from under his bushy eyebrows, as he actually seemed to hate
him for a tenderness and enthusiasm which his nature failed to
comprehend; "when your good aunt left me for a better world--'blessed
are the dead which die in the Lord'--she entrusted you to me, as
especially your father did, Gillian; but, alas! we cannot gather figs
of thistles. We know not _what_ may happen; and, for all your good
father's bright hopes, you may still, my boy, be utterly penniless."
The Bhotanese bullets were, perhaps, hovering in the lawyer's mind.
Gillian had more than once heard this unpleasant, and to him
inexplicable, inuendo from his uncle, but did not attach to it the
weight that, after a time, he found himself compelled to do.
"The dispositions of Providence are mysterious--yea, most mysterious,
and no one knoweth what a day may bring forth!" said Mr. Gainswood,
shaking his head solemnly, and using one of those phrases of which he
had always a ready stock on hand, and which he used most when he was
weaving a web of deceit, as he proceeded to fold, and docket and date
the letter, by legal force of habit, "Colonel Lamond, anent his son's
marriage," and then consigned it to the particular tin box the key of
which he always kept himself.
So the dear old Colonel had consented, and nothing was wanted but his
return and his presence to crown the happiness of all, as Gillian
thought, when, with Mr. Gainswood's permission, he hurried home to
acquaint Dove with the contents of his father's letter, the effect of
which was very different upon the recipient thereof, for when left
alone, he sat long buried in thought, with his brows knit, his teeth
clenched, and his hands thrust far into his trowser's pocket, where
they played unconsciously--another habit he had--with the loose money
he loved so well.