The Twa Miss Dawsons Part 41

Mr Dawson had to wait a good while for the return of his son that night, and he watched him rather anxiously from the window when at last he came in sight George moved slowly, with a graver face than usual, and though his eyes were wandering over the pleasant green of the lawn and gardens, his father knew that his thoughts were not with his eyes.

"How little I am in his life besides what he is in mine!" thought the old man with a sigh. "But so it ay maun be between father and son, and he is a good son to me--a good son. And it's no' for what I have to give him," added he with a sudden movement of both pleasure and pain at his heart. "Though bonny Saughleas were in other hands, and all my gold and gear were swept into the sea, he would be sorry doubtless, but he would be a good son still. And he would not be unhappy, for his portion--that which he has chosen for himself in life would still remain to him."

The old man's heart grew soft and a little sad, but he spoke just as usual when George came in. "Ye're late the nicht."

"Yes. I went round by the station to see the Calderwoods off. And I think I have taken longer time than usual for the walk home. I must be tired, I suppose."

"And no wonder. And so they are gone. And was nothing said about their coming back to Portie again?"

"No. There was time for few words, and there were other people there to see them off--the Petries, and Maggie Saugster, and some others."

"Was James Petrie there? Then his answer has been to his mind, or maybe he hasna asked the question. I dare say he was as wise."

To this George made no reply whether he understood or not, and in a little he left the room. But his father's first words went back to the same subject.

"It is no' so unwise a thing in James Petrie as it looks, because--"

"His wisdom has to be proved," said George gravely. And then he held out a letter to his father.

"I don't believe in bringing business to Saughleas, as a rule, but I thought it as well to let you see this to-night."

His father took it and read it. It was a business letter--important, but still it might have waited till morning.

"It is because he doesna wish to hear about James Petrie and his hopes.

It is of her sister dead and gone that he is thinking," said his father with a sigh. "His is a true and tender heart, and oh! I wish that I could do him a pleasure." Suddenly there returned to him the thought that had been with him during his long wanderings over the wet sands that weary time of waiting.

"There is nothing which I possessed, that I would not have given for a thank-offering that night. And there is nothing that I would not give now."

And when George came into the room after a long hour or two, his father was pondering the same matter still.

In a few days Mr Dawson declared that it was quite time that Jean were coming home, and to the surprise of his sister and his son he announced his intention of going to fetch her.

For in the opinion of both, and certainly in her own opinion, Jean was quite able to take care of herself, whether in the house or by the way, and there was no need of his going for her sake. But he went, and stayed a few days, and they came home together. Jean had no light to throw on his motive for the journey, for he had never intimated that he thought she needed his escort home.

But in a few days there came a letter from Mrs Manners to her aunt which said,--

"The strangest thing happened when my father was in London. He went to see Mrs Calderwood, with whom he had not exchanged words for years.

Marion was with me, so it was not she that he went to see. And her mother never told her what he had to say. He only left a small parcel which her mother was to give her when she came home. It turned out to be an exquisite little gold watch. Mrs Calderwood would have refused so valuable a gift for her daughter, if she had known it, which would have been very absurd, as I told Marion. For what is a few pounds more or less to my father. But I would give my own watch and chain too, to know just what was said between them.

"I have written all this to you, auntie, because my father whiles reads Jean's letters, and he might not be pleased that I have told it. But if you think it wise, you may tell George; I am sure he will be glad to hear it. And as for Marion--I do not wonder that she has stolen my father's heart in spite of him."

Mrs Manners would have paid dear for a knowledge of all that pa.s.sed.

In one way it was very little.

Mr Dawson sent in his name and waited in the drawing-room, and Mrs Calderwood came in a little with a smile on her lips, expecting to see George.

"I have come to say, 'let by-ganes be by-ganes' between us. If you can forgive all that is past, give me your hand."

He spoke almost harshly as his manner was when moved, but he spoke sincerely and even eagerly, and Mrs Calderwood could hardly have refused her hand, even if she had not long ago forgiven him, as she herself hoped to be forgiven.

"I have never borne ill-will, Mr Dawson," said she.

"No. And now I see it might have been different if I had been wiser.

But--I was hardly myself in those days. He was my only son--and--I had lost his mother--"

He suddenly turned his back upon her and strode to the window, and stood long looking out into the darkening street. His face was quiet enough when he turned toward her again.

"The least said the soonest mended," said he; "if you will let by-ganes be by-ganes, as I said before. I have had many thoughts since I--well this while--and the other night when they were in danger together--your son and mine--I got a glimpse of what should be. They are true friends, these two; and surely there is no reason why we should be other than friends also."

Mrs Calderwood was a woman not easily moved. If he had given her time to think about it, if he had written to her, as he at first thought of doing, she would not have refused to meet his advances, but she might have met them less cordially. But when this man, whom she had long thought of as a hard man, turned a moved face towards her, and speaking with a softened voice held out his hand again, what could she do but put hers within it with some gently spoken word of kindness.

And that was all. Mr Dawson did not even sit down. He did not name Marion till he put the little packet in her mother's hand, and he did not return to see her again, though when he went away he meant to do so; and no one ever knew from him that he had been there.

But even before their sister's letter came, both George and Jean knew that in some way, not easy to name, a change had come over their father.

When one day they were together in their aunt's house and she gave them their sister's letter to read, they understood that something which had burdened his conscience and embittered his temper had been cast off forever; but they never spoke of it to each other after they left their aunt's presence, and she never spoke of it to them.

But she saw, as other folk did, that in their father's company a new gentleness of word and manner made itself visible in them both, and she also saw what others could not see, that with this new gentleness George's face grew brighter, but on the face of Jean a shade of sadness fell.

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.

ANOTHER HOME.

"Weel! weel! If the marriage is wi' auld Mr Dawson's free consent, then the Ethiopian can change his skin, and that would be makin' the Bible out nae true. It's little ye ken! He's nae a man to change like that."

It was Mrs Cairnie who spoke, sitting at her daughter's door, with her crutch at her side. Young Mrs Saugster was sitting inside with her baby on her lap, and her mother-in-law and Maggie, busy with her seam, were with her.

"But Mr Dawson went to the marriage himself, and he wouldna ha'e gone but o' his ain free will," said Maggie as no one else answered.

"There's nae sayin'. Young George has the tow in his ain hand. It's as he says now, I doubt, about maist things."

"But he could hardly have wished the auld man to go against his will.

And indeed Mr Dawson gets the credit o' makin' the marriage himsel', though that's likely going beyond the truth," said old Mrs Saugster.

"But what I wonder at is Mrs Calderwood. She is a quait woman, but she is as stiff in her way, and as proud as ever Mr Dawson was; and though she said little at the time, she carried a sair heart and angry, for many a day after she lost her Elsie."

"Folk change," said her daughter-in-law. "Ay. And it's wonderfu' what folk can outlive."

"Mrs Calderwood!" repeated Mrs Cairnie. "What about her! It's a grand marriage for the like o' her dochter, no' to say that she has gotten her triumph ower auld George at last. It's weel to be her."

"It is all like a tale in a book. Somebody should make a ballad about it," said Maggie. "It's no' often that we see a thing comin' to the right end, as this ha'e done."

"The end hasna come yet," said Mrs Cairnie. "And it's no' that richt for some folk. Look at young Miss Jean. She has her ain thoughts, and they are no' o' the pleasantest, or her lace doesna tell the truth. And why didna she go to the marriage wi' the lave?"

"Oh! it wasna as if it had been a fine wedding. It was to be very quiet. And Miss Dawson has Mrs Manners' boys at Saughleas. She couldna weel leave them, nor her aunt."

"Weel, maybe no'. But it canna please her to think o' leaving Saughleas, and letting Marion Calderwood reign in her stead. It'll come to that, though it seems the young folk are goin' to the High-street in the mean time."

"Weel, Miss Dawson may be in a home o' her ain by that time," said old Mrs Saugster. "And whether or no', she's no' the first sister in the countryside who has had to give way before a brother's wife."

"Mother! Mrs Cairnie! to say such like things about Miss Dawson! Ye ken little about her, if ye think she would grudge to do what is right."