The Twa Miss Dawsons Part 39

"For the sake of the girl who is dead," he said to himself with a pang.

Marion's eyes were only for her brother, but she had few words even for him. They had little time for words. They bade Miss Jean and Marion "good-bye" in the house. By and by, Mr Dawson saw Marion standing a little apart from the group of women gathered on the pier, but when he looked again she was no longer to be seen. He was a little disappointed. He thought if they had walked up to his sister's house together, he might have said a word to dispel the cloud of shyness or vexation that had somehow come between them since the day she had gone with the Petries to the Castle.

He would not make much of it, by speaking about it openly, nor could he bring himself to ask his sister about it. Miss Jean was not easy to approach on the subject of the Calderwoods. She had never said one word to anger him at the time when she had thought him hard and unreasonable with regard to them, and neither had she noticed by word or look the interest with which he had come to regard her young visitor; and her silence made it all the more difficult for him to speak. But when he went in on his way home, as it drew towards gloaming, and found her sitting alone in her darkening parlour, he asked her why she did not have lights brought in, and where was her visitor.

"Marion went over to the Tangle Stanes with the skipper's wife and Maggie, and I dare say she has gone hame with her. Her troubles are begun, puir body--Annie Saugster's--I mean."

"What should ail her? She has just the troubles that ay maun fa' on sailors' wives."

"Ay, just that," said Miss Jean.

"And she kenned them a' beforehand. And what gude could a la.s.sie like that do her? She has had small experience o' trouble anyway."

"She has a tender heart--and she shows her sympathy without many words.

And folk like her," said Miss Jean. There was a moment's silence, and then Mr Dawson said hesitating,--

"What ails her this while? Is it only as her brother says, that she is growing a woman, that she is so quiet? Or has any thing happened to vex her? I have hardly got a word from her since she left Saughleas. Is it James Petrie that's to blame?" added he with a laugh.

Miss Jean regarded him gravely for a minute.

"Yes, I think it was something he said. I ken it was, for she told me."

"And did she give him his answer?"

Miss Jean shook her head.

"It's no' what ye're thinkin'. That question hasna been asked yet,"

said she. "And I doubt he'll need to put it off, for a while. He didna help his ain cause by what he said, though he meant it for that. He was telling her about--about George and her sister Elsie."

Mr Dawson said nothing in the pause which followed.

"Of course she had heard something,--that they cared for one another,-- and that George's heart was nearly broken when Elsie died. But she had never heard of your displeasure, nor of some other things. Though how he thought it would help him to tell all this to her, I canna tell-- unless he may be afraid that--But she is to go hame with her brother, it seems, and I hope that no ill may come o' my bringing her here."

"Nonsense, Jean! What ill should come of it? And why should you take the blame of it? It was her mother's doing, sending her here. And if it should end in her agreeing with James Petrie, ye may be sure she will be well pleased."

"I'm no' sure. Though, puir body! she maybe was thinking o' that too."

"It is to be supposed that she kens her ain mind about it. James Petrie will be a rich man some day. Doubtless she thinks of that."

"Less than ye would suppose. But she is not a strong woman, and if any thing were to happen to her, the la.s.sie would be left alone almost. She would be safe here among douce, well-doing folk, like the Petries, and in time she might be content enough."

"But how should he think to help his cause by--by telling that tale?

And what kens he about it?"

"He kens just what other folk ken, and guesses something, I dare say.

He thought to help his wishes by letting her ken, that when George looked kindly at her it was for her sister's sake."

"George!" repeated Mr Dawson in dismay. Miss Jean had not been betrayed into saying this, though that was her brother's first thought.

"Yes. She is like her sister--and he hasna forgotten _her_. But I think it was chiefly your anger and vexation that he held up to her--as against his own father's kindness."

"But George?" repeated Mr Dawson. "Yes. But it is not George I am thinking about, but Marion. And her mother too. Do ye ken that though he has ay gone to see Mrs Calderwood whenever he has been in London, George had never seen her daughter after the time of May's marriage till he saw her the ither night at Saughleas? That was her mother's will.

What with one thing and another,--his love for her sister, and his friendship for her brother, and his being lost from hame so long--the la.s.sie was ay inclined to make a hero of George. And minding on Elsie, and all she had suffered, the mother grew to have a fear that was unreasonable, lest Marion should come to care for him beyond what should be wise. So she kept her out of his sight, and she would never have let her come north but that she knew George was going away. She may have had her ain thoughts of young Mr Petrie--as I had myself, since he showed that he had the sense to see her value."

It was some time before another word was spoken, then Mr Dawson said,--

"I did but what I thought my duty. I did but what her mother was as keen to do as I was. I tried to prevent my son from doing a foolish thing. And I dare say she thinks that I killed her sister."

"No, it is not that. But ye ha'e ay been kind to her, and she thinks the sight of her must give you pain, and she is not at her ease. And so she is unhappy, for she has a grateful nature. Well, she will soon be away now, and whether she'll come back again with young Mr Petrie--I canna say. He'll hardly have the courage to ask her this time."

"I wouldna promise. There are few things that seem to him to be beyond his deserts--though I canna say I'm of his opinion."

Miss Jean knew that her brother was angry and that he was trying to restrain himself as he rose to go.

"A thoughtless word does great ill whiles, but I doubt this has done most ill to his ain cause, if he but kenned it. And it is a pity--"

added Miss Jean.

"He'll get through it. It winna be the first time," said Mr Dawson angrily.

"Are ye awa'? I think we need hardly expect those lads till morning.

They'll be enjoying the sail this bonny nicht," said Miss Jean.

"It depends on several things--the light and the tide and the wind. It was rather a foolish thing to undertake, though it was myself who first spoke of it. But we needna expect them till we see them."

And then he went away. He paused a little when he was outside the door, looking up into the sky, and over the sea, thinking whether he might not as well wait a while, rather than go home alone. It was not so fine a night as Miss Jean had supposed, nor as it had promised to be earlier.

There were heavy banks of clouds on the horizon in two directions, and the moon which showed faintly through a dull haze, had a heavy ring around her and not very far away--sure token that a storm was near.

"They ken the signs better than I do. They'll lose no time."

He lingered still, going as far as the pier head which was not yet quite deserted; but he turned his face homeward at last.

"It will be a long night, I doubt!"

And so it was. Many a look he cast to the sky, which before midnight grew like lead, showing neither moon nor star. A long and heavy night it was. Sleeping or waking, it was the same; dark with fears, vague and unreasonable, which he could not put away--with painful dreams, and startled wakenings, and longings for the day which came at last--a dismal day, with a dull grey mist lying low on land and sea, darkening all things.

It brightened a little as the morning advanced, but he did not hasten early to the town. There was no real cause for anxiety he a.s.sured himself, the fog would account for their delay. They would be home soon. He was not anxious, but he shrank from the thought of the pier head and all the folk looking out for them and wondering where they were and when they would be home. And so it was noon before he called at his sister's door to a.s.sure her that there was really no cause for alarm.

The fog would account for the long delay. There might have been danger to folk not so well acquainted with every nook and headland and current along the sh.o.r.e, but there could hardly be danger to these two.

What a long day it was! And when the gloaming began to fall, there was still no word of them. He went on to Miss Jean's house, and at the door Marion met him. He got a good look of her face this time. Whatever had grieved or angered her, was not in her thoughts now. Her eyes asked eagerly for tidings.

"No word o' them yet, but they canna be long now," said Mr Dawson cheerfully. "I have come to ask you for a cup of tea, though I dare say ye have had yours lang syne. Ye maunna be anxious, my dear. There is really no cause to fear for them as yet."

He had been saying this to himself all day, but his heart was growing sick with anxiety all the same, and though he could hide it from Marion, he knew that he could not hide it from his sister.

"We maun just ha'e patience," was all that Miss Jean said.

Marion prepared the tea herself, and went out and in and did what was to be done. She made his tea and served him as though she liked to do it, and his eyes followed her with an interest which for the moment half beguiled him from the remembrance of his fears. But there was not much said between them, and by and by he said he would step down to the pier head and take a look at the weather before it was quite dark. Marion looked as if she would like to go too, and all the old anxiety was in her eyes, as she turned them to Miss Jean.

"My dear la.s.sie," said her old friend, "they are safe in G.o.d's hands."