Janet's Love and Service Part 50

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.

Arthur Elliott was a young man of good intellect and superior acquirements, and he had ever been supposed to possess an average amount of penetration, and of that invaluable quality not always found in connection with superior intellect--common sense. He remembered his mother, and worshipped her memory. She had been a wise and earnest-minded woman, and one of G.o.d's saints besides. Living for years in daily intercourse with his sister Graeme, he had learnt to admire in her the qualities that made her a daughter worthy of such a mother. Yet in the choice of one who was to be "till death did them part" more than sister and mother in one, the qualities which in them were his pride and delight, were made of no account. Flesh of his flesh, the keeper of his honour and his peace henceforth, the maker or marrer of his life's happiness, be it long or short, was this pretty unformed, wayward child.

One who has made good use of long opportunity for observation, tells me that Arthur Elliott's is by no means a singular case. Quite as often as otherwise, men of high intellectual and moral qualities link their lot with women who are far inferior to them in these respects; and not always unhappily. If, as sometimes happens, a woman lets her heart slip from her into the keeping of a man who is intellectually or morally her inferior, happiness is far more rarely the result. A woman, may, with such help as comes to her by chance, keep her _solitary_ way through life content. But if love and marriage, or the ties of blood, have given her an arm on which she has a right to lean, a soul on whose guidance she has a right to trust, it is sad indeed if these fail her.

For then she has no right to walk alone, no power to do so happily. Her intellectual and social life must grow together, or one must grow awry.

What G.o.d has joined cannot be put asunder without suffering or loss.

But it _is_ possible for a man to separate his intellectual life from the quiet routine of social duties and pleasures. It is not always necessary that he should have the sympathy of his housekeeper, or even of the mother of his children, in those higher pursuits and enjoyments, which is the true life. The rising doubt, whether the beloved one have eyes to see what is beautiful to him in nature and art, may come with a chill and a pang; the certain knowledge of her blindness must come with a shock of pain. But when the shudder of the chill and the shock of the pain are over, he finds himself in the place he used to occupy before a fair face smiled down on him from all high places, or a soft voice mingled with all harmonies to his entranced ear. He grows content in time with his old solitary place in the study, or with striving upward amid manly minds. When he returns to the quiet and comfort of his well-arranged home, the face that smiles opposite to him is none the less beautiful because it beams only for home pleasures and humble household successes. The voice that coos and murmurs to his baby in the cradle, that recounts as great events the little varieties of kitchen and parlour life, that tells of visits made and received, with items of harmless gossip gathered up and kept for his hearing, is none the less dear to him now that it can discourse of nothing beyond. The tender care that surrounds him with quiet and comfort in his hours of leisure, in a little while contents him quite, and he ceases to remember that he has cares and pains, aspirations and enjoyments, into which she can have no part.

But this is a digression, and I daresay there are many who will not agree with all this. Indeed, I am not sure that I quite agree with all my friend said on this subject, myself. There are many ways of looking at the same thing, and if all were said that might be said about it, it would appear that an incapacity on the part of the wife to share, or at least to sympathise with all the hopes, pursuits, and pleasures of her husband, causes bitter pain to both; certainly, he who cannot a.s.sure himself of the sympathy of the woman he loves, when he would pa.s.s beyond the daily routine of domestic duties and pleasures, fails of obtaining the highest kind of domestic happiness.

Charlie Millar's private announcement to his friend Harry of his brother Arthur's engagement, was in these words:

"The efforts of the maternal Grove have been crowned with success. Your brother is a captive soon to be chained--"

Charlie was right. His clear eye saw, that of which Arthur himself remained in happy unconsciousness. And what Charlie saw other people saw also, though why the wise lady should let slip through her expert fingers the wealthy Mr Green, the great Western merchant, and close them so firmly on the comparatively poor and obscure young lawyer, was a circ.u.mstance that could not so easily be understood. Had the interesting fact transpired, that the great Elias had not so much slipped through her fingers, as, to use his own forcible and elegant language, "wriggled himself clear," it might have been satisfactory to the world in general. But Mr Green was far-away intent on more important matters, on the valuation and disposal of fabulous quant.i.ties of pork and wheat, and it is not to be supposed that so prudent a general as Mrs Grove would be in haste to proclaim her own defeat. She acted a wiser part; she took the best measures for covering it.

When the pretty f.a.n.n.y showed an inclination to console herself for the defection of her wealthy admirer by making the most of the small attentions of the handsome young lawyer, her mamma graciously smiled approval. f.a.n.n.y might do better she thought, but then she might do worse. Mr Elliott was by no means Mr Green's equal in the great essentials of wealth won, and wealth in prospect, still he was a rising man as all might see; quite presentable, with no considerable connections,--except perhaps his sisters, who could easily be disposed of. And then f.a.n.n.y, though very pretty, was "a silly little thing," she said to herself with great candour. Her beauty was not of a kind to increase with years, or even to continue long. The chances were, if she did not go off at once, she would stay too long. Then there were her sisters growing up so fast, mamma's own darlings; Charlotte twelve and Victoria seven, were really quite tall and mature for their years, and at any rate, it would be a relief to have f.a.n.n.y well away.

And so the unsuspecting youth enjoyed many a drive in the Grove carriage, and ate many a dinner in the Grove mansion, and roamed with the fair f.a.n.n.y by daylight and by moonlight among the flowers and fruits of the Grove gardens, during the three months that his brother and sisters pa.s.sed at the seaside. He made one of many a pleasant driving or riding party. There were picnics at which his presence was claimed in various places. Not the c.u.mbrous affairs which called into requisition all the baskets, and boxes, and available conveyances of the invited guests--parties of which the aim seems to be, to collect in one favoured spot in the country, all the luxuries, and airs, and graces of the town--but little impromptu efforts in the same direction in which Mrs Grove had all the trouble, and her guests all the pleasure. Very charming little fetes her guests generally p.r.o.nounced them to be.

Arthur enjoyed them vastly, and all the more that it never entered into his head, that he was in a measure the occasion of them all. He enjoyed the companionship of pleasant people, brought together in those pleasant circ.u.mstances. He enjoyed the sight of the green earth, and the blue water, the sound of the summer winds among the hills, the songs of birds amid rustling leaves and waving boughs, until he came to enjoy, at last the guardianship of the fair f.a.n.n.y, generally his on those occasions; and to a.s.sociate her pretty face and light laughter with his enjoyment of all those pleasant things.

Everything went on naturally and quietly. There was no open throwing them together to excite speculation in the minds of beholders, or uncomfortable misgivings in the minds of those chiefly concerned. Quite the contrary. If any watchful fairy had suggested to Arthur the possibility of such a web, as the skillful mamma was weaving around him, he would have laughed at the idea as the suggestion of a very ill-natured, evil-minded sprite indeed. Did not mamma keep watchful eyes on f.a.n.n.y always? Had she not many and many a time, interrupted little confidences on the part of the young lady, at the recollection of which he was sometimes inclined to smile? Had she not at all times, and in all places, acted the part of a prudent mamma to her pretty step-daughter, and of a considerate hostess to him, her unworthy guest?

And if the fairy, in self-justification, had ventured further to insinuate, that there is more than one kind of prudence, and that the prudence of Mrs Grove was of another and higher kind, than a simple youth could be supposed to comprehend, his enlightenment might not yet have been accomplished. If it had been averred that mamma's faith, in her daughter's tact and conversational powers was not sufficient to permit her to allow them to be too severely tried, he might have paused to recall her little airs and gestures, and to weigh the airy nothings from those pretty lips, and he could not but have acknowledged that mamma's faithlessness was not surprising. As to the ultimate success of the sprite in opening his eyes, or in breaking the invisible meshes which were meant to hold the victim fast, that is quite another matter.

But there was no fairy, good or bad, to mingle in their affairs, and they flowed smoothly on, to the content of all concerned, till Graeme came home from Cacouna, to play, in Mrs Grove's opinion, the part of a very bad fairy indeed. She was mistaken, however. Graeme took no part in the matter, either to make or to mar. Even had she been made aware of all the possibilities that might arise out of her brother's short intimacy with the Groves, she never could have regarded the matter as one in which she had a right to interfere. So, if there came a pause in the lady's operations, if Arthur was more seldom one of their party, even when special pains had been taken to secure him, it was owing to no efforts of Graeme. If he began to settle down into the old quiet home life, it was because the life suited him; and Graeme's influence was exerted and felt, only as it had ever been in a silent, sweet, sisterly fashion, with no reference to Mrs Grove, or her schemes.

But that there came a pause in the effective operations of that clever lady, soon became evident to herself. She could not conceal from herself or Miss f.a.n.n.y, that the beckonings from the carriage window were not so quickly seen, or so promptly responded to as of old. Not that this defection on Arthur's part was ever discussed between them. Mrs Grove had not sufficient confidence in her daughter to admit of this.

f.a.n.n.y was not reliable, mamma felt. Indeed, she was very soon taking consolation in the admiration excited by a pair of shining epaulets, which began about this time to gleam with considerable frequency in their neighbourhood. But mamma did not believe in officers, at least matrimonially speaking, and as to the consolation to be derived from a new flirtation, it was but doubtful and transitory at the best. Besides she fancied that Mr Elliott's attentions had been observed, and she was quite sure that his defection would be so, too. Two failures succeeding each other so rapidly, would lay her skill open to question, and "mar dear f.a.n.n.y's prospects."

And so Mrs Grove concentrated all her forces to meet the emergency.

Another invitation was given, and it was accepted. In the single minute that preceded the entrance into the dining-room, the first of a series of decisive measures was carried into effect. With a voice that trembled, and eyes that glistened with grateful tears, the lady thanked her "dear friend" for the kind consideration, the manly delicacy that had induced him to withdraw himself from their society, as soon as he had become aware of the danger to her sweet, but too susceptible f.a.n.n.y.

"f.a.n.n.y does not dream that her secret is suspected. But oh! Mr Elliott, when was a mother at fault when the happiness of her too sensitive child was concerned?"

In vain Arthur looked the astonishment he felt. In vain he attempted to a.s.sure her in the strongest terms, that he had had no intention of withdrawing from their society--that he did not understand--that she must be mistaken. The tender mother's volubility was too much for him.

He could only listen in a very embarra.s.sed silence as she went on.

Mr Elliott was not to suppose that she blamed him for the unhappiness he had caused. She quite freed him from all intention of wrong. And after all, it might not be so bad. A mother's anxiety might exaggerate the danger; she would try and hope for the best. Change of scene must be tried; in the meantime, her fear was, that pique, or wounded pride, or disappointed affection might induce the unhappy child to--in short Mr Elliott must understand--. And Mrs Grove glanced expressively toward the wearer of the shining epaulets, with whom Arthur being unenlightened, might have fancied that the unhappy child was carrying on a pretty energetic and prosperous flirtation.

But "pique and wounded pride!" He had never in all his life experienced a moment of such intense uncomfortableness as that in which he had the honour to hand the lady of the house to her own well-appointed table.

Indignation, vexation, disbelief of the whole matter spoiled his dinner effectually. Mrs Grove's exquisite soup might have been ditch-water for all he knew to the contrary. The motherly concern so freely expressed, looked to him dreadfully like something not so praiseworthy.

How she could look her dear f.a.n.n.y in the face, and talk, so softly on indifferent subjects, after having so--so unnecessarily, to say the least, betrayed her secret, was more than he could understand. If, indeed, Miss f.a.n.n.y had a secret. He wished very much not to believe it.

Secret or not, this was a very uncomfortable ending to a pleasant three months' acquaintance, and he felt very much annoyed, indeed.

Not till course after course had been removed, and the dessert had been placed on the table, did he summon resolution to withdraw his attention from the not very interesting conversation of his host, and turn his eyes to Miss Grove and the epaulets. The result of his momentary observation was the discovery that the young lady was looking very lovely, and not at all miserable. Greatly relieved, he ventured an appropriate remark or two, on the subject under discussion. He was listened to with politeness, but not with Miss f.a.n.n.y's usual amiability and interest, that was evident.

By and by the gentlemen followed the ladies into the drawing-room, and here Miss f.a.n.n.y was distant and dignified still. She gave brief answers to his remarks, and glanced now and then toward the epaulets, of whom Mrs Grove had taken possession, and to whom she was holding forth with great energy about something she had found in a book. Arthur approached the centre-table, but Mrs Grove was too much occupied with Captain Starr to include him in the conversation. Mr Grove was asleep in the dining-room still, and Arthur felt there was no help for him. Miss f.a.n.n.y was left on his hands; and after another vain attempt at conversation, he murmured something about music, and begged to be permitted to hand her to the piano. Miss Grove consented, still with more than her usual dignity and distance, and proposed to sing a new song that Captain Starr had sent her. She did sing it, very prettily, too. She had practised it a great deal more than was necessary, her mamma thought, within the last few days. Then she played a brilliant piece or two; then Mrs Grove, from the centre-table, proposed a sweet Scottish air, a great favourite of hers, and, as it appeared, a great favourite of Mr Elliott's, also. Then there were more Scottish airs, and French airs, and then there was a duet with Captain Starr, and mamma withdrew Mr Elliott to the centre-table, and the book, and did not in the least resent the wandering of his eyes and his attention to the piano, where the Captain's handsome head was at times in close proximity with that of the fair musician. Then, when there had been enough of music, Miss Grove returned to her embroidery, and Captain Starr held her cotton and her scissors, and talked such nonsense to her, that Arthur hearing him now and then in the pauses of the conversation, thought him a great simpleton; and firmly believed that Miss f.a.n.n.y listened from "pique or wounded pride," or something else, not certainly because she liked it. Not but that she seemed to like it. She smiled and responded as if she did, and was very kind and gracious to the handsome soldier, and scarcely vouchsafed to Mr Elliott a single glance.

By and by Mr Grove came in and withdrew Mr Elliott to the discussion of the harbour question, and as Arthur knew everything that could possibly be said on that subject, he had a better opportunity still of watching the pair on the other side of the table. It was very absurd of him, he said to himself, and he repeated it with emphasis, as the young lady suddenly looking up, coloured vividly as she met his eye. It was very absurd, but, somehow, it was very interesting, too. Never, during the whole course of their acquaintance, had his mind been so much occupied with the pretty, silly little creature.

It is very likely, the plan of piers and embankments, of ca.n.a.ls and bridges, which Miss f.a.n.n.y's working implements were made to represent, extending from an imaginary Point Saint Charles, past an imaginary Griffintown, might have been worthy of being laid before the town council, or the commissioner for public works. It is quite possible that Mr Grove's explanations and ill.u.s.trations of his idea of the new harbour, by means of the same, might have set at rest the doubts and fears of the over-cautious, and proved beyond all controversy, that there was but one way of deciding the matter, and of securing the prosperity of Mount Royal City, and of Canada. And if Mr Grove had that night settled the vexed question of the harbour to the satisfaction of all concerned, he would have deserved all the credit, at least his learned and talented legal adviser would have deserved none of it.

It was very absurd of him, he said again, and yet the interest grew more absorbing every moment, till at last he received a soft relenting glance as he bowed over Miss f.a.n.n.y's white hand when he said good-night. He had one uncomfortable moment. It was when Mrs Grove hoped aloud that they should see him often, and then added, for his hearing alone,--

"It would look so odd, you know, to forsake us quite."

He was uncomfortable and indignant, too, when the captain, as they walked down the street together, commented in a free and easy manner on Miss Grove's "good points," and wondered "whether the old chap had tin enough to make it worth a fellow's pains to follow up the impression he seemed certain he had made." He was uncomfortable when he thought about it afterward. What if "pique, or wounded pride, or disappointed affection" should tempt the poor little girl to throw herself away on such an a.s.s! It would be sad, indeed.

And then he wondered if Miss Grove really cared for him in that way.

Surely her stepmother would not have spoken as she had done to him on a mere suspicion. As he kept on thinking about it, it began to seem more possible to him, and then more pleasant, and what with one thing, and what with another, Miss f.a.n.n.y began to have a great many of his thoughts indeed. He visited Grove House a good many times--not to seem odd--and saw a good deal of Miss f.a.n.n.y. Mamma was prudent still, and wise, and far-seeing, and how it came about I cannot tell, but the result of his visits, and the young lady's smiles, and the old lady's management was the engagement of these two; and the first intimation that Graeme had of it was given by Arthur on the night that Norman went away.

Time pa.s.sed on. The wedding day was set, but there were many things to be brought to pa.s.s before it should arrive. Graeme had to finish the task she had set for herself on the night, when Arthur had bespoken her love and care for a new sister. She had to reconcile herself fully to the thought of the marriage, and truly the task did not seem to her easier as time went on. There were moments when she thought herself content with the state of affairs, when, at least, the coming in among them of this stranger did not seem altogether like the end of their happy life, when Miss Grove seemed a sweet and lovable little thing, and Graeme took hope for Arthur. This was generally on those occasions when they were permitted to have f.a.n.n.y all to themselves, when she would come in of her own accord, in the early part of the day, dressed in her pretty morning attire, without her company manners or finery. At such times she was really very charming, and flitted about their little parlour, or sat on a footstool chattering with Rose in a way that quite won her heart, and almost reconciled the elder sister to her brother's choice.

But there were a great many chances against the pleasure lasting beyond the visit, or even to the end of it. On more than one occasion Graeme had dispatched Nelly as a messenger to Arthur, to tell him that f.a.n.n.y was to lunch with them, though her magnanimity involved the necessity of her preparing the greater part of that pleasant meal with her own hands; but she was almost always sorry for it afterward. For f.a.n.n.y never appeared agreeable to her in Arthur's presence; and what was worse to bear still, Arthur never appeared to advantage, in his sister's eyes, in the presence of Miss Grove. The coquettish airs, and pretty tyrannical ways a.s.sumed by the young lady toward her lover, might have excited only a little uncomfortable amus.e.m.e.nt in the minds of the sisters, to see Arthur yielding to all her whims and caprices, not as one yields in appearance, and for a time, to a pretty spoiled child, over whom one's authority is only delegated and subject to appeal, but _really_ as though her whims were wisdom, and her caprices the result of mature deliberation, was more than Graeme could patiently endure. It was irritating to a degree that she could not always control or conceal.

The lovers were usually too much occupied with each other to notice the discomfort of the sisters, but this indifference did not make the folly of it all less distasteful to them: and at such times Graeme used to fear that it was vain to think of ever growing content with the future before them.

And almost as disagreeable were the visits which f.a.n.n.y made with her stepmother. These became a great deal more frequent, during the last few months, than Graeme thought at all necessary. They used to call on their way to pay visits, or on their return from shopping expeditions, and the very sight of their carriage of state, and their fine array, made Graeme and Rose uncomfortable. The little airs of superiority, with which Miss f.a.n.n.y sometimes favoured them, were only a.s.sumed in the presence of mamma, and were generally called forth by some allusion made by her to the future, and they were none the less disagreeable on that account. How would it be when f.a.n.n.y's marriage should give her stepmother a sort of right to advise and direct in their household? At present, her delicate attempts at patronage, her hints, suggestive or corrective, were received in silence, though resented in private with sufficient energy by Rose, and sometimes even by Graeme. But it could not be so always, and she should never be able to tolerate the interference of that vain, meddlesome, superficial woman, she said to herself many a time.

It must be confessed that Graeme was a little unreasonable in her dread and dislike of f.a.n.n.y's clever stepmother. Sometimes she was obliged to confess as much to herself. More than once, about this time, it was brought home to her conscience that she was unjust in her judgment of her, and her motives, and she was startled to discover the strength of her feelings of dislike. Many times she found herself on the point of dissenting from opinions, or opposing plans proposed by Mrs Grove, with which she might have agreed had they come from any one else. It is true her opinions and plans were not generally of a nature to commend themselves to Graeme's judgment, and there was rather apt to be more intended by them than at first met the eye and ear. As Miss f.a.n.n.y said on one occasion, "One could never tell what mamma meant by what she said," and the consequence often was an uncomfortable state of expectation or doubt on the part of those who were included in any arrangement dependent on mamma. Yet, her schemes were generally quite harmless. They were not so deep as to be dangerous. The little insincerities incident to their almost daily intercourse, the small deceits made use of in shopping, marketing, making visits, or sending invitations, were no such mighty matters as to jeopardise the happiness, or even the comfort of any one with eyes keen enough to detect, and with skill and will to circ.u.mvent them. So Graeme said to herself many a time, and yet, saying it she could not help suffering herself to be made uncomfortable still.

The respect and admiration which Mrs Grove professed for Miss Elliott might have failed to propitiate her, even had she given her credit for sincerity. They were too freely expressed to be agreeable under any circ.u.mstances. Her joy that the Elliotts were still to form one household, that her dear thoughtless f.a.n.n.y was to have the benefit of the elder sister's longer experience and superior wisdom, was great, and her surprise was great also, and so was her admiration. It was so dear in Miss Elliott to consent to it. Another person might have resented the necessity of having to take the second place, where she had so long occupied the first in her brother's house. And then to be superceded by one so much younger than herself, one so much less wise, as all must acknowledge her dear f.a.n.n.y to be, was not, could not, be pleasant. Miss Elliott must be a person possessing extraordinary qualities, indeed.

How could she ever be grateful enough that her wayward child was to have the advantage of a guardianship so gentle and so judicious as hers was sure to be! She only hoped that f.a.n.n.y might appreciate the privilege, and manifest a proper and amiable submission in the new circ.u.mstances in which she was to be placed.

Graeme might well be uncomfortable under all this, knowing as she did, that mamma's private admonitions to her "wayward daughter" tended rather to the encouragement of a "judicious resistance" than of "a proper and amiable submission" to the antic.i.p.ated rule. But as a necessary abdication of all household power made no part of Graeme's trouble, except as she might sometimes doubt the chances of a prosperous administration for her successor, she was able to restrain all outward evidence of discomfort and indignation. She was the better able to do this, as she saw that the clever lady's declaration of her sentiments on this subject, made Arthur a little uncomfortable too. He had a vague idea that the plan as to their all continuing to live together, had not at first been so delightful to Mrs Grove. He had a remembrance that the doubts as to how his sisters might like the idea of his intended marriage, had been suggested by her, and that these doubts had been coupled with hints as to the proper means to be taken in order that the happiness of her dear daughter might be secured, he remembered very well; and that she had expected and desired no a.s.sistance from his sisters to this end, he was very well a.s.sured.

"However, it is all right now," said Arthur, congratulating himself.

"Graeme has too much sense to be put about by mamma's twaddle, and there is no fear as far as f.a.n.n.y and she are concerned."

The extent to which "mamma's twaddle" and other matters "put Graeme about" at this time she concealed quite, as far as Arthur was concerned.

The best was to be made of things now; and though she could not help wishing that his eyes might be more useful to him on some occasions, she knew that it would not have mended matters could he have been induced to make use of her clearer vision, and so her doubts and fears were kept to herself, and they did not grow fewer or less painful as time went on.

But her feelings changed somewhat. She did not cease to grieve in secret over what she could not but call Arthur's mistake in the choice he had made. But now, sometimes anger, and sometimes a little bitter amus.e.m.e.nt mingled with her sorrow. There seemed at times something ludicrous in bestowing her pity on one so content with the lot he had chosen. She was quite sure that Arthur would have smiled at the little follies and inconsistencies of Miss Grove, had he seen them in any one else. She remembered that at their first acquaintance he had smiled at them in her. _Now_ how blind he was! All her little defects of character, so painfully apparent to his sisters were quite invisible to him. She was very amiable and charming in his eyes. There were times when one might have supposed that he looked upon her as the wisest and most sensible of women; and he began to listen to her small views and a.s.sent to her small opinions, in a way, and to an extent that would have been amusing if it had not been painful and irritating to those looking on.

Graeme tried to believe that she was glad of all this--that it was better so. If it was so that these two were to pa.s.s their lives together, it was well that they should be blind to each other's faults.

Somehow married people seemed to get on together, even when their tastes, and talents, and tempers differed. If they loved one another that was enough, she supposed; there must be something about it that she did not understand. At any rate, there was no use vexing herself about Arthur now. If he was content, why should not she be so? Her brother's happiness might be safer than she feared, but whether or not, nothing could be changed now.

But as her fears for her brother were put from her, the thought of what the future might bring to Rose and her, came oftener, and with a sadder doubt. She called herself foolish and faithless--selfish even, and scolded herself vigorously many a time; but she could not drive away her fears, or make herself cheerful or hopeful in looking forward. When Arthur should come quite to see with f.a.n.n.y's eyes, and hear with her ears, and rely upon her judgment, would they all live as happily together as they had hitherto done? f.a.n.n.y, kept to themselves, she thought she would not fear, but influenced by her stepmother, whose principles and practice were so different from all they had been taught to consider right, how might their lives be changed!

And so the wedding-day was drawing nigh. As a part of her marriage-portion, Mr Grove was to present to his daughter one of the handsome new houses in the neighbourhood of Columbus Square, and there the young lady's married-life was to commence. The house was quite a little fortune in itself, Mrs Grove said, and she could neither understand nor approve of the manner in which her triumphant announcement of its destination was received by the Elliotts. It is just possible that Arthur's intimate knowledge of the state of his future father-in-law's affairs, might have had something to do with his gravity on the occasion. The troubles in the mercantile world, that had not left untouched the long-established house of Elphinstone & Company, had been felt more seriously still by Mr Grove, and a doubt as to whether he could, with justice to all concerned, withdraw so large an amount from his business, in order to invest it for his daughter's benefit, could not but suggest itself to Arthur. He was not mercenary; it would not be true to say he had not felt a certain degree of satisfaction in knowing that his bride would not be altogether undowered. But the state of Mr Grove's affairs, was, to say the least, not such as to warrant a present withdrawal of capital from his business, and Arthur might well look grave.

Not that he troubled himself about it, however. He had never felt so greatly elated at the prospect of marrying an heiress, as to feel much disappointed when the prospect became doubtful. He knew that Miss Grove had a right to something which she had inherited from her mother, but he said to himself that her right should be set aside, rather than that there should be any defilement of hands in the transfer. So, if to Mrs Grove's surprise and disgust, he remained silent when she made known the munificent intentions of f.a.n.n.y's father, it was not for a reason that he chose to discuss with her. His remarks were reserved for Mr Grove's private ear, and to him they were made with sufficient plainness.

As for Graeme, she could not but see that their antic.i.p.ated change of residence might help to make certainties of all her doubts and fears for their future. If she had dreaded changes in their manner of life before, how much more were they to be dreaded now? They might have fallen back, after a time, into their old, quiet routine, when f.a.n.n.y had quite become one of them, had they been to remain still in the home where they had all been so happy together. But there seemed little hope of anything so pleasant as that now, for f.a.n.n.y's handsome house was in quite a fashionable neighbourhood, away from their old friends, and that would make a sad difference in many ways, she thought; and all this added much to her misgivings for the future.

"f.a.n.n.y's house!" could it ever seem like home to them? Her thoughts flew back to Janet and Merleville, and for a little, notwithstanding all the pain she knew the thought would give her brother, it seemed possible--nay best and wisest, for her and Rose to go away.