Janet's Love and Service Part 58

"And did the course of true love for once run smooth," said Rose. Mrs Snow smiled at their eagerness.

"As for the love at first sight--it came very soon to my Sandy. I am no' sure about Emily. As for its running smooth, there was a wee while it was hindered. They had their doubts and fears, as was natural, and their misunderstandings. But, oh! bairns, it was just wonderful to sit by and look at them. I saw their happy troubles coming on before they saw it themselves, I think. It was like a story out of a book, to watch them; or like one of the songs folk used to sing when I was young--the sweet old Scottish songs, that are pa.s.sing out of mind now, I fear. I never saw the two together in our garden, but I thought of the song that begins,--"

"Ae simmer nicht when blobs o' dew, Garred ilka thing look bonny--"

"Ah! Well, G.o.d has been good to them, and to us all."

"And Mr Snow was well pleased, of course," said f.a.n.n.y.

"Pleased is hardly the word for it. He had just set his heart on it from the very first, and I had, whiles, much ado to keep him from seeming to see things and to keep him from putting his hand to help them a wee, which never does, you ken. Folk must find out such things for themselves, and the canniest hand may hinder, rather than help, with the very best will. Oh ay, he was well pleased."

"And it is so nice that they are to be so close beside you. I daresay we shall hardly know our old home, it will be so much improved."

"It is improved, but no' beyond your knowledge of it. It was ay a bonny place, you'll mind. And it _is_ improved, doubtless, for her father thinks there is nothing too good for Emily."

"And Oh! bairns, we have a reason to be thankful. If we trust our affairs in G.o.d's hand, He'll 'bring it to pa.s.s,' as he has said. And if we are his, there is no' fear but the very best thing for us will happen in the end."

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE.

"Who is is Mr Green, anyhow?"

The question was addressed by Mr Snow to the company generally, as he paused in his leisurely walk up and down the gallery, and stood leaning his elbow on the window, looking in upon them. His manner might have suggested the idea of some mystery in connection with the name he had mentioned, so slowly and gravely did his eyes travel from one face to another turned toward him. As his question had been addressed to no one in particular, no one answered for a minute.

"Who is Mr Green, that I hear tell so much about?" he repeated impressively, fixing Will with his eye.

"Mr Green? Oh! he is an American merchant from the West," said the literal Will, not without a vague idea that the answer, though true and comprehensive, would fail to convey to the inquiring mind of the deacon all the information desired.

"He is a Green Mountain boy. He is the most perfect specimen of a real live Yankee ever encountered in these parts,--cool, sharp, far-seeing,--"

Charlie Millar was the speaker, and he was brought up rather suddenly in the midst of his descriptive eloquence by a sudden merry twinkle in the eye of his princ.i.p.al listener; and his confusion was increased by a touch from Rose's little hand, intended to remind him that real live Yankees were not to be indiscreetly meddled with in the present company.

"Is that all you can say for your real live Yankee, Charlie, man?" said Arthur, whose seat on the gallery permitted him to hear, but not to see, all that was going on in the room. "Why don't you add, he speculates, he whittles, he chews tobacco, he is six feet two in his stockings, he knows the market value of every article and object, animate and inanimate, on the face of the earth, and is a living ill.u.s.tration of the truth of the proverb, that the cents being cared for, no apprehension need be entertained as to the safety of the dollars."

"And a living contradiction of all the stale old sayings about the vanity of riches, and their inability to give even a transitory content," said Charlie, with laughing defiance at Rose.

"Quite true, Charlie," said Arthur; "if Mr Green has ever had any doubts about the almighty dollar being the 'ultimate end,' he has nursed or combated his doubts in secret. Nothing has transpired to indicate any such wavering of faith."

"Yes; it is his only standard of worth in all things material and moral," said Charlie. "When he enters a room, you can see by his look that he is putting a price on all things in it--the carpet and curtains--the books and pretty things--even the ladies--"

"Yes," continued Arthur; "if he were to come in here just now, it would be--Mrs Snow worth so much--naming the sum; Miss Elliott so much more, because she has on a silk gown; Mrs Elliott more still, because she is somehow or other very spicy, indeed, to-night; he would appreciate details that go beyond me! As for Rosie, she would be the most valuable of all, according to his estimate, because of the extraordinary shining things on her head."

"The possibility of their being only imitations, might suggest itself,"

interposed Charlie.

"Yes, to be sure. And imitation or not, they would indicate all the same the young lady's love of finery, and suggest to his acute mind the idea of danger to the purse of her future possessor. No, Rosie wouldn't have a chance with him. You needn't frown, Rosie, you haven't. Whether it is the shining things on your head, or the new watch and chain, or the general weakness in the matter of bonnets that has been developing in your character lately, I can't say, but nothing can be plainer, than the fact that hitherto you have failed to make the smallest impression on him."

"A circ.u.mstance which cannot fail to give strength to the general impression that he is made of cast iron," said Charlie.

"Arthur, I am shocked and astonished at you," said Rose, as soon as she was permitted to speak. "You have forgotten, Charlie, how kindly he cared for your brother when he was sick, long ago. And Harry says that his hardness and selfishness is more in appearance, than real. He has a very kind heart."

"Oh! if you come to his heart, Miss Rose, I can't speak for that. I have never had an opportunity of satisfying myself as to that particular. I didn't know he had one, indeed, and should doubt it now, if we had not Harry's authority and yours."

"You see, Rosie, when it comes to the discussion of hearts, Charlie gets beyond his depth. He has nothing to say."

"Especially tender hearts," said Charlie; "I have had a little experience of a flinty article or two of that sort."

"Charlie, I won't have you two quarrelling," said Graeme, laughing.

"Rose is right. There is just a grain or two of truth in what they have been saying," she added, turning to Mr Snow. "Mr Green is a real live Yankee, with many valuable and excellent qualities. A little hard perhaps, a little worldly. But you should hear him speak of his mother.

You would sympathise with him then, Charlie. He told me all about his mother, one evening that I met him at Grove House, I think. He told me about the old homestead, and his father's saw-mill, and the log school-house; and his manner of speaking quite raised him, in my opinion. Arthur is wrong in saying he cares for nothing but money."

"But, who is he?" asked Mr Snow, with the air of one much interested; His question was this time addressed to f.a.n.n.y, who had seated herself on the window seat close by her husband, and she replied eagerly,--

"Oh, he is a rich merchant--ever so rich. He is going to give up business, and travel in Europe."

"For the improvement of his mind," said Arthur.

"I don't know what he goes for, but he is very rich, and may do what he likes. He has built the handsomest house in the State, Miss Smith tells me. Oh! he is ever so rich, and he is a bachelor."

"I want to know?" said Mr Snow, accepting f.a.n.n.y's triumphant climax, as she gave it, with great gravity.

"He is a great friend of mine, and a great admirer of Miss Elliott,"

said Mrs Grove, with her lips intending that her face should say much more.

"Do tell?" said Mr Snow.

"A singular and eccentric person you see he must be," said Will.

"A paradoxical specimen of a live Yankee. Don't frown, Miss Rose. Mrs Grove's statement proves my a.s.sertion," said Charlie.

"If you would like to meet him, Mr Snow, dine with us on Friday," said Mrs Grove. "I am quite sure you will like and admire each other. I see many points of resemblance between you. Well, then, I shall expect you _all_. Miss Elliott, you will not disappoint me, I hope."

"But so large a party! Mrs Grove, consider how many there are of us,"

said Graeme, who knew as well as though she were speaking aloud, that the lady was saying that same thing to herself, and that she was speculating as to the necessity of enlarging the table.

"Pray, don't mention it. We are to have no one else. Quite a family party. I shall be quite disappointed if I don't see you all. The garden is looking beautifully now."

"And one more wouldn't make a bit of difference. Miss Rose, can't you speak a good word for me," whispered Charlie.

"Thank you," said Graeme, in answer to Mrs Grove. "I have been longing to show Mrs Snow your garden. I hope the roses are not quite over."

"Oh, no!" said Arthur. "There are any number left; and Charlie, man, be sure and bring your flute to waken the echoes of the grove. It will be delightful by moonlight, won't it, Rosie?"

Mrs Grove gave a little start of surprise at the liberty taken by Arthur. "So unlike him," she thought. Mr Millar's coming would make the enlargement of the table absolutely necessary. However, she might ask one or two other people whom she ought to have asked before, "and have it over," as she said. So she smiled sweetly, and said,--

"Pray do, Mr Millar. We shall expect you with the rest."

Charlie would be delighted, and said so.