Janet's Love and Service Part 92

Emily listened, smiling.

"It would be as well to leave the building of Will's castle to himself,"

said she.

"Ah! yes, I suppose so," said Graeme, with a sigh. "One must build for one's self. But, Emily, dear, I built Rosie's castle. I have wished for just what is happening over yonder among the pine trees, for a long long time. I have been afraid, now and then, of late, that my castle was to tumble down about my ears, but Charlie has put his hand to the work, now, in right good earnest, and I think my castle will stand."

"See here, Emily," said Mr Snow, coming in an hour or two later, "if Mr Millar thinks of catching the cars for Boston, this evening, you'll have to hurry up your tea."

"But he has no thought of doing any such foolish thing," said Mrs Snow.

"Dear me, a body would think you were in haste to get quit of the young man, with your hurry for the tea, and the cars for Boston."

"Why no, mother, I ain't. He spoke about it this morning, himself, or I'm pretty sure I shouldn't. I'll be glad to have him stay, and more than glad."

"He is going to stay and hear the minister preach," said Graeme. "You know you asked him, and I'm sure he will enjoy it."

"He is a good preacher," said Mr Snow, gravely.

"And he's a good practiser, which is far better," said his wife. "But I doubt, deacon, you'll need to put him out of your head now. Look down yonder, and tell me if you think Rosie is likely to bide in Merleville."

And the deacon, looking, saw Mr Millar and Rose coming slowly up the path together, and a duller man than Mr Snow could hardly have failed to see how matters stood between them. Mr Millar was looking down on the blushing face of his companion with an air alike happy and triumphant, and, as for Rose, Mr Snow had never seen her look at all as she was looking at that moment.

"Well," said his wife, softly.

"Well it is as pretty a sight as one need wish to see," said Mr Snow.

He nodded his head a great many times, and then, without a word, turned his eyes on Graeme.

His wife smiled.

"No, I am afraid not. Every one must build his own castle, as I heard her saying--or was it Emily? this very afternoon. But we needna trouble ourselves about what may come to pa.s.s, or about what mayna. It is all in good hands."

"And, Rosie dear, all this might have happened at Norman's last year, if only Charlie had been bolder, and Harry not so wise."

The sisters were in their own room together. A good deal had been said before this time that need not be repeated. Graeme had made her sister understand how glad she was for her sake, and had spoken kind, sisterly words about Charlie, and how she would have chosen him for a brother out of all the world, and more of the same kind; and, of course, Rose was as happy, as happy could be. But when Graeme said this, she turned round with a very grave face.

"I don't know, Graeme. Perhaps it might; but I am not sure. I did not know my own mind then, and, on the whole, it is better as it is."

"Harry will be glad," said Graeme. Indeed, she had said that before.

Rose laughed.

"Dear, wise Harry! He always said Charlie was pure gold."

"And so he is," said Graeme.

"I know it, Graeme; and he says he is not good enough for me." And Rose laid down her cheek upon her sister's lap, with a little sob. "Ah! if he only knew, I am afraid--"

"Dear, it is the humility of true love, as you said about Harry. You love one another, and you need not be afraid."

They were silent for a long time after that, and then Rose said, flushing a little,--

"And, Graeme, dear, Charlie says--but I promised not to tell--"

"Well, you must not, then," said Graeme, smiling, with just a little throb of pain at her heart, as it came home to her that now, Rose, and her hopes and fears, and little secrets belonged more to another than to her.

"Not that it is a secret, Graeme," said her sister, eagerly.

"It is something that Charlie has very much at heart, but I am not so sure myself. But it is nothing that can be spoken about yet. Graeme, Charlie thinks there is n.o.body in the world quite so good as you."

Graeme laughed.

"Except you, Rosie."

"I am not good, Graeme, but very foolish and naughty, often, as you know. But I will try and be good, now, indeed I will."

"My darling," murmured Graeme, "I am so glad for you--so glad and thankful. We ought to be good. G.o.d has been very good to us all."

Of course all this was not permitted to shorten the visit of the sisters to their old friend. Mr Millar went away rather reluctantly, alone, but the Winter had quite set in before they went home. Mrs Snow was well by that time, as well as she ever expected to be in this world, and she bade them farewell with a good hope that she might see them again.

"But, whether or not," said she, cheerfully, "I shall ay be glad and thankful for the quiet time we have had together. There are few who can say of those they love, that they wish nothing changed in their life or their lot; but I do say that of all your father's bairns. No' but that there may be some crook in the lot of one or other of you, that I canna see, and maybe some that I can see; but when the face is set in the right airt [direction] all winds waft onward, and that, I trust, is true of you all. And, Rosie, my dear, it takes a steady hand to carry a full cup, as I have told you, many a time; and mind, my bairn, 'Except the Lord build the house, they labour in vain that build it,' and, 'the foundation of G.o.d standeth sure.' Miss Graeme, my dear, 'They that wait on the Lord shall renew their strength,' as you have learnt yourself long syne. G.o.d bless you both, and farewell."

They had a very quiet and happy winter. They had to make the acquaintance of their new sister, and a very pleasant duty it proved, Harry had at one time indulged some insane hopes of having his little Amy safe in his own keeping before the snow came, but it was soon made plain to him by Mrs Roxbury, that this was not for a single moment to be thought of. Her daughter was very young, and she must be permitted at least one season to see something of society before her marriage.

She was satisfied with the prospect of having the young merchant for a son-in-law; he had established a reputation of the most desirable kind among the reliable men of the city, and he was, besides, a _gentleman_, and she had other daughters growing up. Still it was right that Amy should have time and opportunity to be quite sure of herself, before the irrevocable step was taken. If Mrs Roxbury could have had her way about it, she should have had this opportunity before her engagement had been made, or, at least, before it had been openly acknowledged, but, as that could not be, there must be no haste about the wedding.

And so the pretty Amy was hurried from one gay scene to another, and was an acknowledged beauty and belle, in both civic and military circles, and seemed to enjoy it all very well. As for Harry, he sometimes went with her, and sometimes stayed at home, and fretted and chafed at the state of affairs in a way that even his sisters considered unreasonable, though they by no means approved of the trial to which Amy's constancy was exposed. But they were not afraid for her. Every visit she made them--and many quiet mornings she pa.s.sed with them--they became more a.s.sured of her sweetness and goodness, and of her affection for their brother, and so they thought Harry unreasonable in his impatience, and told him so, sometimes.

"A little vexation and suspense will do Harry no harm," said Arthur.

"Events were following one another quite too smoothly in his experience.

In he walks among us one day, and announces his engagement to Miss Roxbury, as triumphantly as you please, without a word of warning, and now he frets and fumes because he cannot have his own way in every particular. A little suspense will do him good."

Which was very hard-hearted on Arthur's part, as his wife told him.

"And, besides, it is not suspense that is troubling Harry," said Rose.

"He knows quite well how it is to end. It is only a momentary vexation.

And I don't say, myself, it will do Harry any harm to have his masculine self-complacency disturbed a little, by just the bare possibility of disappointment. One values what it costs one some trouble to have and to hold."

"Rose, you are as bad as Arthur," said f.a.n.n.y.

"Am I? Oh! I do not mean that Harry doesn't value little Amy enough; but he is unreasonable and foolish, and it looks as if he were afraid to trust her among all those fine people who admire her so much."

"It is you who are foolish, now, Rose," said her sister. "Harry may be unreasonable, but it is not on that account; and Amy is a jewel too precious not to be guarded. No wonder that he grudges so much of her time, and so many of her thoughts to indifferent people. But it will soon be over now."

"Who knows? 'There's many a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip,' you know," said Arthur. "Who knows but Harry may be the victim among us?

Our matrimonial adventures have been monotonously prosperous, hitherto.

Witness Rosie's success. It would make a little variety to have an interruption."

But Harry was not destined to be a victim. As the winter wore over, Mrs Roxbury relented, and "listened to reason on the subject," Harry said; and by and by there began to be signs of more than usual occupation in the Roxbury mansion, and preparations that were likely to throw Rosie's modest efforts in the direction of housekeeping altogether in the shade. But Rosie was not of an envious disposition, and enjoyed her pretty things none the less, because of the magnificence of Harry's bride. As for little Amy, she took the matter of the trousseau very coolly. Mamma was quite equal to all that, and took trouble enough, and enjoyment enough out of it all for both, and she was sure that all would be done in a right and proper manner, without anxiety or over-exertion on her part, and there was never a happier or more light-hearted little bride than she.

At first it was proposed that the two weddings should take place on the same day, but, afterwards, it was decided otherwise. It would be inconvenient for business reasons, should both the partners be away at the same time, and in those circ.u.mstances the wedding trip would be shortened. And besides, the magnificence of the Roxbury plans, would involve more trouble as to preparations, than would be agreeable or convenient; and Rose proposed to go quietly from her own home to the home Charlie was making ready for her; and it was decided that Harry's marriage should take place in the latter part of April, and the other early in the summer.