Inchbracken Part 34

But Augustus was not yet content. He reminded her of the discomforts of a northern spring. 'Would she not like to spend the dreariest months of the year in Italy, with its blue skies and its--' The special descriptive attributes of Italy forsook him at the moment, but, 'and all that sort of thing' answered as well. 'And we might spend Holy Week in Rome, and see all the church ceremonies; and there are to be an unusual number of foreign princes there this year, I am told. Would you not like to be there?'

Julia thought that she _would_ like it. And after all, if it was to be, the sooner she entered on her fortune, and the less time she had to think about it beforehand, perhaps the better. So March was fixed on as the date of their happiness, and Wallowby was led up stairs to Lady Caroline's sitting-room, to be presented as an expectant relative, and to be duly congratulated. The interview did not last long, however; Lady Caroline speedily got tired of tiresome people, and Julia, knowing the signs, bundled her admirer off in good time. He was invited to dinner for the following day, with instructions to go back to Manchester the day after, and to remain there till the day of the wedding, as the settlements could be arranged between Mr.

MacSiccar (who had Lady Caroline and the General's instructions as to what was proper) and his solicitors.

He returned to Auchlippie in exuberant delight, and unburdened himself of his good news to his hostess, who made shift to receive it as well as she could. So he had come north with matrimonial intent after all!

And yet he had turned his eyes elsewhere! It was too bad! And her husband and daughter would think less of her wisdom than ever.

She was not very effusive in her congratulations, and she told him that he would no doubt stay at Inchbracken when he came north next time; from which he was left to infer that the Lady of Auchlippie had no wish to see his face again.

CHAPTER x.x.xVII.

_THE END_.

Roderick Brown's health rapidly improved under the milder and more genial airs of Devon. The threatening symptoms of impending disease were speedily mitigated, and gradually disappeared altogether. Torquay was but a quiet little place in those days. The carriages filled with much dressed company, and the depressing trains of hopelessly sick and dying, were not as yet. He and his sister could go in and out as inclination led them, and wander little disturbed by other sojourners along the sh.o.r.e.

Roderick revelled in the ease and repose that comes of the cessation of long continued worry. He knew that there he could go, and say, and do as he listed, with none to criticise; and for once after several years he found himself with nothing whatever to do but amuse himself.

He had frequent letters from the Laird, which told him all the news he cared to know of Glen Effick, whose dust he vowed to himself he had shaken from his feet for ever. The beadle's appearance at church in the new character of married man had overturned and shivered to pieces the whole fabric of scandal under which he had lain, and the old gentleman grew quite humorous over the consternation and recriminations of his brother elders in Session a.s.sembled. A scapegoat had at first appeared necessary to these wiseacres, and poor Joseph was selected as the victim on whom they might lay the punishment of their stupid credulity, sending it and him forth into the wilderness to be no more heard of or remembered; and it had taken all the Laird's and the new minister's eloquence and influence to dissuade them from their vindictive intentions, and let the poor wretch work out in peace the heavy domestic retribution he had brought upon himself. 'I might say,' he added, 'that we all congratulate you; but you know we never supposed that there was anything in it, and we only regretted that you should have taken a nonsensical accusation so seriously to heart.'

'We all' Roderick understood to be the old gentleman's way of including Sophia with himself, and he was greatly cheered. He kept up a constant correspondence with the Laird himself, and took care that Mary's letterwriting to Sophia should never flag, so that he felt by no means cut off from her. He might have adventured a letter to her himself now, with far greater hope than he had felt on a previous occasion, but he had begun to doubt and wonder as to his own future plans in life, and he misgave as to his moral right to commit another to the hazy uncertainties he begun to see before him. His utter outrooting from Glen Effick was not a process which could take place without leaving changes and permanent effects on his whole nature. It was no mere transplanting-process, in which the fibres retain some clod of the old for stay and nourishment until they are able to spread themselves and take hold on the new soil. His clerical brethren had treated him as a diseased and withered branch, a weed to be plucked up by the root and cast out of the vineyard; and finding himself thus out for the moment, he was minded to look well about him before he returned.

In England he came for the first time in contact with a national church differing from his own, and to which the traditions and prejudices of his early training were opposed. The written prayers, rubrical directions, and instrumental music, were all opposed to his experience and prepossessions, so much that, in a sense, and apart from controversial considerations, Prelacy and Popery had appeared as nearly convertible terms. But as the novelty wore off there was much in them conducive to devout feeling, and he could not close his eyes to the signal and thousandfold examples of holy living which flourished under the system. The extension of railways has a.s.sisted to bring similar suggestions to many of his fellow countrymen. Roderick began to realize what, perhaps, he would only have admitted in a speculative but doubtful way before, that there are more folds than one; or, to speak more orthodoxly, that the limits of the one fold are not conterminous with those of one special pen in which some portion of the faithful flock have chosen to house themselves. He began to read more foreign theology than had been his wont, and with less of his old feeling that he knew more and better than any dweller in lands of a dimmer Gospel light could possibly tell him.

Mary, of course, was not long in hearing from Kenneth that baby Steele had been reclaimed by its new found family, and the delighted father wrote her a letter overflowing with grat.i.tude. He told her that he had persuaded Eppie, who understood her const.i.tution so wonderfully, to remain in charge of his little Mary, and a.s.sured her that she should be brought up to remember for life the debt of grat.i.tude she owed to her name-mother's charity. Mary cried a little to think that she had lost her winsome plaything, but admitted it was perhaps just as well.

Lady Caroline might not have relished an infant in the house, not of her kindred, and belonging to none knew whom.

In March came the county _Courier_, describing the marriage in high life at Inchbracken, 'Augustus Wallowby, Esquire, to the beautiful and accomplished,' etc., with all the great doings and high festival kept on the occasion. This was especially welcome news to Mary. She had known of it from the beginning, but she had feared something might happen to delay or break it off; the attachment seemed so unreal, to judge from Kenneth's cynical observations made on the spot. Her acquaintance with Julia had been slight, and she felt as if they did not like each other, though she could not have said why. Julia had always been quite civil, but Mary knew this, that she did not understand her (Julia) in the very least, Inchbracken was going to become her own home in the coming autumn, and she had feared that the presence of Julia would not be conducive to her happy relations with her mother-in-law. But that was settled, and Mary received an occasional billet from Lady Caroline, who felt lonely and dull now that she was deprived of Julia's companionship, and whose thoughts naturally turned to the coming daughter-in-law.

Roderick and Mary broke up their winter quarters soon after hearing of Julia's marriage. They had no occasion to move northward before May or June, but having as yet seen little of England, they determined to move along the south coast by easy stages, stopping at famous towns on their way, and seeing all that they could--Exeter, Dorchester, Winchester, Portsmouth, the Isle of Wight, Canterbury, and finally Dover. They were sorely tempted to cross the straits, but it was now May, and if they were to see London, it was time for them to hurry thither, for they were due in Edinburgh at the end of the month.

They strolled down the pier to watch the steamer come in, and had the consolation of seeing by the forlorn aspect of the landing pa.s.sengers, that their inability to cross was not an unmixed evil. The wind blew from the east, and the confused chopping waves betokened a detestable pa.s.sage, and the seagreen visages of the people, as they followed their baggage into the customhouse sheds, showed plainly what they had suffered. In time there issued from the sheds a party, the chief members of which struck them as familiar, though they could not recall when they had seen them. A lady, whose long ringlets had somewhat lost their curl in the damp sea air, but who did not appear to be otherwise discomposed, walked first; a courier came next carrying her reticule, her Murray, and her smelling bottle; a gentleman followed, dismal of countenance and rumpled in attire. Manifestly he had not been happy during the voyage, and he appeared to have lain down or leant up in undesirable places. It appeared an exertion to him to drag himself to the neighbouring 'Lord Warden,' whither their steps were bent, and yet he had other burdens to carry. On one arm hung a voluminous fur cloak,--evidently a lady's,--and he had also a parasol. Clutched to his side under the other arm was a French poodle, caught below the shoulders, with its after-part dangling helpless like a hairy caterpillar about his legs. It appeared to be in much discomfort, blinked piteously, and would have yelped and bitten also, but that the breath was squeezed out of its body by the elbow which kept it in place. A maid followed with a vast bundle of shawls, and then came a man with a folding stool, who lingered to watch the baggage being conveyed to the hotel.

'Adolphe!' said the lady to the courier, 'go and bid Mr. Wallowby take better care of that poor Fidele. I _know_ he is handling the tender darling roughly! Men are so coa.r.s.e and indifferent. I am _sure_ I heard a whimper!'

The delivery of Adolphe's message was followed by a shrill yelp, cut short in the middle by want of breath, as its aggravated bearer bent in a few more of its ribs with a jerk of his elbow, and wished it in the sea. The lady stopped in her saunter and turned round.

'Augustus!' she said in a severe and injured tone, 'Had you not better wait till you get indoors, before giving way to your disgusting brutality of temper? The servants cannot possibly admire the exhibition.'

At this moment she descried the Browns, and her face cleared as she approached them with cordial alacrity.

'Oh, Miss Brown! or Mary you must allow me to call you, we are so soon to be cousins you know. So nice to meet old friends on setting foot in dear Old England once more!' She was as enthusiastic over her return as if she had been abroad for years; but then she knew Mary had never crossed the Channel, and this was the civillest way to remind her of it.

Mary returned her salutation with as much effusion as she could call up, and then turned to greet Mr. Wallowby who stood a step behind, like the attendant of a princess on the stage. He could only bow himself, with a weakly smile to his enc.u.mbered hands and arms, for there was a vicious twitch about Fidele's mouth and eye, which warned him that any relaxation of watchfulness or elbow would be followed by a snap or perhaps an ugly bite.

'Ah! To be sure you know each other! I had forgotten that. Met at Auchlippie last summer, of course. It was there _we_ met first, too, by the way, in our days of young love and inexperience. How long ago it all seems now! And how droll! Does it not, Wallowby?'

'Very droll,' returned the husband in a dull and absent voice, as if he might have added, 'And very wretched, too,' but had still so much self-respect as kept him from parading his disappointment.

He had tasted more of gall than sweetness during his honeymoon, and had found himself matched to so expert a manager that it was harder to struggle than submit; and he had meekly subsided into poodle-bearer and banker before the honeymoon was half gone through. Julia made no pretence of admiring him now, and this was so strange an experience that he worshipped her for her superiority, and probably loved her in some weak and querulous fashion. Do not people love and reverence all the queer idols they set up, if only they are strong and heavy enough to crush their worshippers? But Julia would have none of his endearments or devotion. They bored, and after a few days did not even amuse her. Adolphe the courier spoke French and Italian, and she practised herself in those tongues under his direction, which was better than talking vapid sentiment with her husband; and so long as their expenditure was liberal, there were plenty of talkative foreigners--counts--princes--all sorts of interesting creatures to be had, who conversed delightfully, and were so romantic, realizing to her mind some of the most charming pa.s.sages in the French novels she doted on. Thus Julia enjoyed her tour immensely, and was returning home in the best of good humour, prepared to queen it over the Misses Kettlebotham and all the people who should come within her circle.

Roderick stood in the back-ground. A distant bow was all the recognition he either expected or received from the lady, and when they moved on he followed with Wallowby. He offered to relieve him of some of his burdens, but the poor man declined--he clung to his service as the only hold left him on the woman he had married--though he did wish that something would happen to Fidele; that its morning cream, for instance, would disagree with its liver, and that it might shortly die.

The Browns parted with their friends at the hotel door, and hastened to London, whence in due time they returned to Scotland.

There is little to record in what afterwards befell them. Like those fortunate nations which have little or no history, their lives were happy, monotonous to the onlooker, but full of various and engrossing interest to themselves. Mary returned to Inchbracken as daughter-in-law in the autumn, and Lady Caroline speedily ceased to regret that her son had not made a more splendid alliance.

Roderick met the Laird and his family in Edinburgh, where the Laird was a delegate from his Presbytery to the General a.s.sembly, and before the young man well knew it, he had said all that was in his mind both to Sophia and her father. He spent two years in Germany to the no small anxiety of Mrs. Sangster, who felt certain that his principles would be sapped, and that he would come back a rationalist, or imbued with peculiar German views, whatever that may mean. But on his return he was called to an influential city charge, and duly married, realizing in the end the original hopes of that worthy but somewhat mixed old lady for the wellbeing of her daughter--a comfortable provision for this life, and the glorious certainties of a minister's wife for that which is to come.

Roderick has preached and published many remarkable sermons; he is highly respected for personal piety; and as his lucky star has more than once interposed to prevent his being made a professor, there is every likelihood that he will live to a good old age in peace, contentment, and universal esteem.

THE END.