Janet's Love and Service Part 52

"No, Will. These are implied. It is the love and care that made all these trifles really 'woman's work.' A poor dreary work it would be without these."

"And, Graeme, is there nothing still, to sanctify your daily labour, and make it work indeed?" said Will.

"There is, indeed, Will. If I were only sure that it is my work. But, I am not sure. And it seems as though--somewhere in the world, there must be something better worth the name of work, for me to do." And letting her hands fall in her lap, she looked away over the numberless roofs of the city, to the grey line of the river beyond.

"Oh! Will," she went on in a little, "you do not know. You who have your life's work laid out before you, can never understand how it is with me. You know the work before you is your work--given you by G.o.d himself. You need have no misgivings, you can make no mistake. And look at the difference. Think of all the years I may have to spend, doing the forgotten ends of another's duty, filling up the time with trifles, visits, frivolous talk, or fancy work, or other things which do good to no one. And all the time not knowing whether I ought to stay in the old round, or break away from it all--never sure but that elsewhere, I might find wholesome work for G.o.d and man."

Very seldom did Graeme allow herself to put her troubled thoughts into words, and she rose now and went about the room, as if she wished to put an end to their talk. But Will said,--

"Even if it were true and real, all you say, it may not be for long.

Some day, you don't know how soon, you may have legitimate 'woman's work' to do,--love, and sympathy, and care, and all the rest, without encroaching on f.a.n.n.y's domain."

He began gravely, but blushed and stammered; and glanced with laughing deprecation at his sister, as he ended. She did not laugh.

"I have thought of that, too. It seems so natural and proper, and in the common course of things, that a woman should marry. And there have been times, during this last year, when, just to get away from it all, I have thought that any change would be for the better. But it would not be right, unless--" she hesitated.

"No, unless it was the right person, and all that, but may we not reasonably hope that the right person may come?"

"We won't talk about it, Will. There must be some other way than that.

Many women find an appropriate work to do without marrying. I wish I could do as the Merleville girls used to do, spin and weave, or keep a school."

"But they don't spin and weave now, since the factories have been built.

And as for school-keeping--"

"It would be work, good wholesome work, in which, with G.o.d's help, I might try to do as our father and mother did, and leave the world better for my labour."

"But you could not part from Rose, and Arthur could never be made to see it right that you should go away," said Will.

"Rose should go with me. And Arthur would not like it at first, nor f.a.n.n.y, but they would reconcile themselves to it in time. And as to the school, that is only one kind of work, though there are few kinds left for a woman to do, the more's the pity."

"There is work enough of the best kind. It is the remuneration that is scant. And the remuneration could not be made a secondary consideration; if you left home."

"In one sense, it ought to be secondary. But I think it must be delightful to feel that one is 'making one's living,' as Mr Snow would say. I _should_ like to know how it feels to be quite independent, Will, I must confess."

"But Graeme, there is no need; and it would make Arthur quite unhappy, if he were to hear you speak in that way. Even to me, it sounds a little like pride, or discontent."

"Does it, Will. That is dreadful. It is quite possible that these evil elements enter into my vexed thoughts. We won't speak any more about it, Will."

"But, why should we not speak about it? You may be quite right. At any rate, you are not likely to set yourself right, by keeping your vexed thoughts to yourself."

But, if Graeme had been ever so willing, there was no more time just now. There was a knock at the door, and Sarah, the housemaid, presented herself.

"If you please, Miss Graeme, do you think I might go out as usual. It is Wednesday, you know."

Wednesday was the night of the weekly lecture, in Sarah's kirk. She was a good little girl, and a worshipper in a small way of a popular young preacher of the day.

"If Nelly thinks she can manage without you," said Graeme.

"It was Nelly proposed it. She can do very well, unless Mrs Elliott brings home some one with her, which is unlikely so late."

"Well, go then, and don't be late. And be sure you come home with the Shaws' Sarah," said Miss Elliott.

"They are late," said Will. "I am afraid I cannot wait for dinner. I promised to be with Doctor D at seven."

They went down-stairs together. Nelly remonstrated, with great earnestness against Will's "putting himself off with bread and cheese, instead of dinner."

"Though you need care the less about it, that the dinner's spoiled already. The fowls werena much to begin with. It needs sense and discretion to market, as well as to do most things, and folk that winna come home at the right hour, must content themselves with things overdone, or else in the dead thraw."

"I am very sorry Will should lose his dinner," said Graeme; "but they cannot be long in coming now."

"There's no saying. They may meet in with folk that may keep them to suit their ain convenience. It has happened before."

More than once, when f.a.n.n.y had been out with her mother, they had gone for Arthur and dined at Grove house, without giving due notice at home, and the rest, after long waiting, had eaten their dinner out of season.

To have a success in her department rendered vain by careless or culpable delay, was a trial to Nelly at any time. And if Mrs Grove had anything to do with causing it, the trial was all the greater.

For Nelly--to use her own words--had no patience with that "meddlesome person." Any interference on her part in household matters, was considered by her a reflection on the housekeeping of her young ladies before Mrs Arthur came among them, and was resented accordingly. All hints, suggestions, recipes, or even direct instructions from her, were utterly ignored by Nelly, when it could be done without positive disobedience to Miss Graeme or Mrs Elliott. If direct orders made it necessary for her to do violence to her feelings to the extent of availing herself of Mrs Grove's experience, it was done under protest, or with an open incredulousness as to results, at the same time irritating and amusing.

She had no reason to suppose that Mrs Grove had anything to do with her vexation to-night, but she chose to a.s.sume it to be so, and following Graeme into the dining-room, where Will sat contentedly eating his bread and cheese, she said,--

"As there is no counting on the time of their home-coming, with other folks' convenience to consult, you had best let me bring up the dinner, Miss Graeme."

"We will wait a few minutes longer. There is no haste," said Graeme, quietly.

Graeme sat a long time looking out of the window before they came--so long that Nelly came up-stairs again intending to expostulate still, but she did not; she went down again, quietly, muttering to herself as she went,--

"I'll no vex her. She has her ain troubles, I daresay, with her young brother going away, and many another thing that I ken nothing about. It would ill set me to add to her vexations. She is not at peace with herself, that's easy to be seen."

CHAPTER THIRTY.

Graeme was not at peace with herself and had not been so for a long time, and to-night she was angry with herself for having spoiled Will's pleasure, by letting him see that she was ill at ease.

"For there is no good vexing him. He cannot even advise me; and, indeed, I am afraid I have not the courage really to go away."

But she continued to vex herself more than was wise, as she sat there waiting for the rest in the gathering darkness.

They came at last, but not at all as they ought to have come, with the air of culprits, but chatting and laughing merrily, and quite at their leisure, accompanied--to Nelly's indignant satisfaction--by Mrs Grove.

Graeme could hardly restrain an exclamation of amus.e.m.e.nt as she hastened toward the door. Rose came first, and her sister's question as to their delay was stopped by a look at her radiant face.

"Graeme, I have something to tell you. What is the most delightful, and almost the most unlikely thing that could happen to us?"

Graeme shook her head.

"I should have to consider a while first--I am not good at guessing.

But won't it keep? Nelly is out of all patience."

But Rose was too excited to heed her.