A Reconstructed Marriage Part 35

"What did Robert say?"

"Threw the whole blame on mysel'--evil be to him!"

"Mother!"

"Yes, evil be to the son who condemns his mother, whether she be right or wrong."

"He will not get Sir Thomas to invest money in the works now, I fear.

That will trouble him."

"Weel! The Campbell furnaces have kept blazing so far, without Wynton siller to help them, and their fires willna go out for the want o' it."

"I wonder how Sir Thomas will take his disappointment."

"It is untelling how any man will take anything. You couldna speculate as to how Robert Campbell would take a plate o' parritch; he might like them, and he might send them to the Back o' Beyond. All men are made that way, and we poor women can only put up wi' their tempers and tantrums. G.o.d help us!"

At this moment Jepson entered with a basket filled with moss and purple pansies. A card was attached bearing the following message:

"_Sir Thomas Wynton sends sincere sympathy, and kind regards to Mrs. and Miss Campbell. He will not intrude on their grief at present, but will call in a few days._"

Isabel laid her face against the flowers, Mrs. Campbell read the card with pleasure, and a slight flush of color came back to her cheeks.

"This bit of card will give me the upper hand of a' the clashing jades, who come here wondering and sighing, and doubting and fearing. I shall shake it in their faces, and bid them tak' notice that Sir Thomas Wynton is still in the family as it were. And I shall make one other observe anent the marriage failure, that Sir Thomas will take as personal, any and all unpleasant remarks concerning the Campbells."

"When Sir Thomas pays his visit----"

"You be to see that Dora is present. The creature has a wonderful way o'

saying consoling words. I hae noticed that all men find her pleasant and satisfactory. She has the trick o' speaking just what they want to hear--the jade!"

"Do speak decently of Dora, mother. She is Robert's wife."

"More's the pity. G.o.d help the poor man! Little pleasure he has wi'

her."

"It is not her fault."

"I see how it is--she will lead you wrong next."

"No one can lead me wrong. I wonder if Sir Thomas went to see Robert to-day."

"I think Robert would go and see him. We may wonder all day, but we will know, when Robert comes home; that is, if his temper will let him talk.

_Dod!_ but he is a true Campbell--flesh, blood, and bone."

"When Robert was in love with Dora, love made him a kind, good-tempered man."

"Kind men are not profitable in a house; they give where they ought to grip; and it is a sma' share o' this world you will get wi' good temper.

You be to threep, and threaten for what you want, and the fires in the furnaces would soon burn low, if there was a kind, good-tempered man watching o'er them."

"Now you are talking like yourself, mother. You will soon put your trouble under your feet."

"Weel, I am not going to sit down on the ash-heap wi' it, as the parfect man o' Uz did--if there ever was such a man--which I am doubting; all the mair, because n.o.body I ever heard of could tell me in what country on the face o' the globe a place called Uz might be found. If there isna a place called Uz, it is mair than likely there never was a man called Job."

"The Bible says there was."

"Ay, in a parable. The Bible is aye ready to drop into a parable."

"Mother, if you would try and sleep now."

"I will not. I would get sick if I did. I am on watch at present, for I am not up to mark, and I will not gie sickness the fine opportunity o'

sleep. If Robert comes hame reasonable, I'll have my talk out wi' him.

I am not going to suffer his contradictions, not if I know it."

Fortunately Robert came home early, and was in a civil and communicative mood. He said "he had been to see Sir Thomas, and had been treated in the most considerate manner."

"What did he say about Christina?" asked Isabel timidly.

"He would hear no wrong of her. He said she had written him a beautiful letter, a most honorable letter, a letter he would prize to his dying hour. He thought she had done right, both for herself and him. He told me she had returned all his gifts, and he had directed the jeweler to hold them for her further orders. He thinks she will be sure to call there, in order to find out if they have been given to him, and he has left a note with the jewels, begging her to keep them as a sign of their friendship, and a reminder of the pleasant hours they have spent together. A most unusual and gentlemanly way of looking at things, I must say."

"Will he take a share in the works now?" asked Mrs. Campbell.

"I do not know. He is going abroad as soon as he has rearranged his affairs. He said he would call on you in a few days."

"He sent us some lovely flowers," said Isabel.

"He is a most wasteful man."

"He sent mother and me pansies in a lovely basket lined with moss; they were to say for him he would 'remember' us. And he sent Dora the same basket, filled with white hyacinths. Oh, how sweet they were!"

"And what did they say?"

"I looked for their meaning, and found it was 'un.o.btrusive loveliness.'

You see Dora rarely came into the parlor, when he called."

"That may be so, but he had no business to notice her absence.

'Un.o.btrusive' indeed, and 'loveliness.' Some men don't know when they go too far."

"He meant all in kindness," said Mrs. Campbell, "and I hope he will call."

Sir Thomas kept his promise. Three days after Christina had so mercilessly jilted him, he called on her mother and sister. But by this time he had taken a still more exalted view of his false love's conduct.

He told Mrs. Campbell, that it was not sympathy, but congratulations, that were due her. Was she not the proud mother of a n.o.ble daughter, whom neither rank nor wealth could lure from the paths of truth and honor? Of a daughter who held love as beyond price, and who would not wrong either his or her own heart. He waxed eloquent on this subject, and was tearful over the lost treasure of her n.o.ble daughter's affection. And Mrs. Campbell smiled grimly, and wondered "if he really thought she was silly enough to believe he believed in any such balderdash."

Isabel certainly believed in him with all her heart, and was never weary of his chivalrous, exalted plat.i.tudes; and like all men in love trouble, Sir Thomas was never weary of talking of his wounded heart, and lost bride. So Isabel quickly became his favorite confidant. She listened patiently and with evident interest; she helped him to praise Christina, and when he got to wiping his eyes, Isabel was ready to weep with him.

In a couple of weeks he began to talk of his intended travel, and on this subject Isabel was sincerely inquisitive and enthusiastic. The strongest desire of her heart was to travel in strange countries, and she asked so many questions about the trip Sir Thomas proposed taking, that he brought his maps and guidebooks, and showed her his route down the Mediterranean to Greece, up the Adriatic to Montenegro and Herzegovina, over the Dalmatian mountains, through Austria and Hungary to Buda-Pesth, northward to Prague, Berlin, and Hamburg, into the Baltic, and so by Zealand and the Skager Rack across the North Sea to England again. Oh, what a heaven it opened up to the reserved, solitary woman!

It was impossible for Isabel to hide her delight, and so when this trip had been thoroughly talked over, he came one wet afternoon with the books and maps explanatory of his last journey, which had been altogether on the American continent. He showed her where he had hunted big game in the forests of the Hudson Bay Company, and he described to her the old cities of French Canada. Many afternoons were spent in talking about New York, Chicago, St. Louis, San Francisco, and the wonders of California, Alaska, and Texas. Finally, he carried her to Brazil and Cuba, to the West Indies and to the beautiful Bermudas.

In these parlor wanderings, she lived a life far, far apart from the wet, dull streets of Glasgow, and the monotonous ennui and strife of Traquair House; besides which advantage, both Sir Thomas and herself lost in such pleasant loiterings the first sore pangs of their bereaved hearts. For obvious reasons, both Robert and Mrs. Campbell tolerated these--to them--tiresome recollections. Robert considered the baronet yet as a possible business contingent; and Mrs. Campbell silenced all doubtful sympathizers with remarks about his friendship, and his constant visits. One Sabbath she managed affairs so cleverly, that he even went to Dr. Robertson's church, sat in their pew, and returned home to dine with them. The next day he started on his two years' travel, promising to write Isabel descriptions of all the wonderfuls he saw.