Janet's Love and Service Part 65

"For one thing, we had been away a long time in the summer, and I did not like to leave home again; Arthur did not encourage me to go. It was on the very night that Norman went away that Arthur told me of his engagement."

"I daresay you did right to bide at home, then."

"Yes, I knew it was best, but that did not prevent me wishing very much to go. I had the greatest desire to go to you. I had no one to speak to. I daresay it would not have seemed half so bad, if I could have told you all about it."

"My dear, you had your sister."

"Yes, but Rosie was as bad as I was. It seemed like the breaking up of all things. I know now, how wrong and foolish I was, but I could not help being wretched then."

"It was a great change, certainly, and I dinna wonder that the prospect startled you."

Mrs Snow spoke very quietly; she was anxious to hear more; and forgetting her prudence in the pleasure it gave her to unburden her heart to her friend, Graeme went on rapidly,--

"If it only had been any one else, I thought. We didn't know f.a.n.n.y very well, then--hardly at all, indeed, and she seemed such a vain, frivolous little thing, so different from what I thought Arthur's wife should be; and I disliked her stepmother so much more than I ever disliked any one, I think, except perhaps Mrs Page, when we first came to Merleville. Do you mind her first visit with Mrs Merle, Janet?"

"I mind it well," said Mrs Snow, smiling. "She was no favourite of mine. I daresay I was too hard on her sometimes."

Graeme laughed at the remembrance of the "downsettings" which "the smith's wife" had experienced at Janet's hands in those early days. The pause gave her time to think, and she hastened to turn the conversation from Arthur and his marriage to Merleville and the old times. Janet did not try to hinder it, and answered her questions, and volunteered some new items on the theme, but when there came a pause, she asked quietly,--

"And when was the other time you thought of coming to see us all?"

"Oh! that was before, in the spring. Arthur proposed that we should go to Merleville, but we went to the seaside, you know. It was on my account; I was ill, and the doctor said the sea-breeze was what I needed."

"The breezes among our hills would have been as good for you, I daresay.

I wonder you didn't come then."

"Oh! I could not bear the thought of going then. I was ill, and good for nothing. It would have been no pleasure for any one to see me then.

I think I should hardly have cared to go away anywhere, if Arthur had not insisted, and the doctor too."

Unconsciously Graeme yielded to the impulse to say to her friend just what was in her heart.

"But what ailed you?" asked Mrs Snow, looking up with astonished eyes, that reminded Graeme there were some things that could not be told even to her friend.

"What ailed you?" repeated Mrs Snow.

"I can't tell you. An attack of the nerves, Nelly called it, and she was partly right. I was tired. It was just after Will's long illness, and Harry's going away, and other things."

"I daresay you were weary and sorrowful, too, and no wonder," said Mrs Snow, tenderly.

"Yes, about Harry. I was very anxious. There were some doubts about his going, for a while. Mr Ruthven hesitated, and Harry chafed and vexed himself and me, too, poor laddie; but we got through that time at last," added Graeme, with a great sigh.

"Did Mr Ruthven ken of Harry's temptation? Was it for that he hesitated?" asked Mrs Snow.

"I cannot say. Oh! yes, he knew, or he suspected. But I don't think he hesitated altogether because of that. As soon as he knew that we were quite willing--Arthur and I--he decided at once. Mr Ruthven was very kind and considerate through it all."

"Miss Graeme, my dear," said Mrs Snow, with some hesitation, "did you ever think there was anything between your brother Harry and his master's daughter--the young lady that Allan Ruthven married--or was it only Sandy's fancy?"

Graeme's face grew white as she turned her startled eyes on her friend.

"Sandy! Did he see it? I did not think about it at the time; but afterward I knew it, and, oh! Janet, you cannot think how it added to my wretchedness about Harry."

"My bairn! There have been some rough bits on the road you have been travelling. No wonder your feet get weary, whiles."

Graeme rose, and, without speaking, came and laid her head upon her friend's lap. In a little she said,--

"How I longed for this place! I had no one to speak to. I used to think you might have helped and comforted me a little."

She did not try to hide her tears; but they did not flow long. Janet's kind hand had not lost its old soothing power, and by and by Graeme raised herself up, and, wiping away her tears, said, with a faint smile,--

"And so Sandy saw poor Harry's secret? I did not, at first. I suppose little Emily had sharpened his eyes to see such things, even then."

"Yes, Sandy saw it, and it was a great surprise to us all when there came word of her marriage. Sandy never thought of Allan Ruthven and his cousin coming together."

Graeme rose and took her work again. It was growing dark, and she carried it to the window and bent over it.

"Was it for her money--or why was it?"

"Oh! no. I never could think so. She was a very sweet and lovely creature; we loved her dearly, Rose and I. They had been engaged a long time, I believe, though the marriage was sudden at last. That was because of her father's illness. He died soon after, you remember."

"Yes, I remember. Well, I didna think that Allan Ruthven was one to let the world get a firm grip of him. But folk change. I didna ken."

"Oh! no, it was not that," said Graeme, eagerly. "Indeed, at that time Mr Elphinstone's affairs were rather involved. He had met with great losses, Harry says, and Arthur thought that nothing but Mr Ruthven's high character and great business talents could have saved the firm from ruin. Oh! no; it was not for money."

"Well, my dear, I am glad to hear you say it. I am glad that Allan Ruthven hasna changed. I think you said he hasna changed?"

"At first I thought him changed, but afterwards I thought him just the same."

"Maybe it was her that wanted the money? If her father was in trouble--"

"No, oh! no! You could never have such a thought if you had ever seen her face. I don't know how it happened. As all marriages happen, I suppose. It was very natural; but we won't speak about it."

"They seem to have forgotten their friends. I think you said you seldom see them now."

"We don't see them often. They have been out of town a good deal, and we have fallen a little out of acquaintance. But we have done that with many others; we have made so many new acquaintances since Arthur's marriage--friends of f.a.n.n.y's, you know; and, somehow, nothing seems quite the same as it used to do. If Mr Ruthven knew you were in town, I am sure he would have been to see you before now."

"I am no' wearying to see him," said Mrs Snow, coldly. "But, my dear, is your work of more value than your eyes, that you are keeping at it in the dark?"

Graeme laughed and laid it down, but did not leave the window, and soon it grew so dark that she had no excuse for looking out. So she began to move about the room, busying herself with putting away her work, and the books and papers that were scattered about. Janet watched her silently.

The shadow was dark on her face, and her movements, as she displaced and arranged and re-arranged the trifles on the table were quick and restless. When there seemed nothing more for her to do, she stood still with an uneasy look on her face, as though she thought her friend were watching her, and then moved to the other end of the room.

"My dear," said Mrs Snow, in a little, "how old are you now?"

Graeme laughed, and came and took her old seat.

"Oh! Janet, you must not ask. I have come to the point when ladies don't like to answer that question, as you might very well know, if you would stop to consider a minute."

"And what point may that be, if I may ask?"

"Oh! it is not to be told. Do you know f.a.n.n.y begins to shake her head over me, and to call me an old maid."