The Twa Miss Dawsons Part 50

"And what has happened to make it less like folly now?"

"Well," said Captain Calderwood after a pause, "the first gleam of hope I got was when Sir Percy Harefield proposed to take ship with me on the 'Ben Nevis.' He has gotten his answer, I thought. And I vowed that if ever I came home again I would speak to you--"

"Jean is of age, and in a sense her own mistress. She could do as she pleased, even if I were to refuse you."

"I shall never speak to her unless I have your full and free consent."

It was queer, Mr Dawson thought George had said the same to him about Marion, and had meant it too, as possibly this young man meant it also.

He cast a sidelong glance at the strong, grave face beside him. It had grown white through all its healthy brown.

"Curious!" thought Mr Dawson. "Now, I dare say that didna happen in the very face o' the tempest. Surely a love that has lasted all his life must be a good thing for any woman to have."

But all the same he wished with all his heart that he could refuse to let him speak. Not that he had any special fear of Jean. She would surely have given some token during all these years, if her fancy had turned to Willie Calderwood. But he had returned a hero--"in a small way," as Mr Dawson put it, and young la.s.sies are so open to impressions of that kind. And the lad was every inch a man, that could not be denied.

"I ken well she might look higher. Who is worthy of her?" said Willie humbly.

"It teems to me ye can ken little about her," said Mr Dawson irritably.

"There's George now, what says he? He kens all this, doubtless?"

"He kens, doubtless," repeated Willie gravely. "But his sister's name has never been named between us--in that way."

So the father had not even that excuse for vexation. He had no excuse.

The young man was acting honourably in the matter, and he told himself that he was not afraid about Jean's answer. And yet in his secret heart he was a little afraid. They had come to the gate by this time.

"Mr Dawson, do you bid me come into your house, after what I have told you?"

"Bid ye come in! And your sister waiting for you at the door, and your friend and brother as weel! I would hardly venture in myself without you. And indeed I welcome you heartily to my house, for your own sake as well as theirs. And as to--that other matter--we'll say nae mair about that the nicht."

With this the young man was obliged to content himself George's eyes were full of questions, but his lips uttered not one as he took him to his room, to supply all that had been left in the bag forgotten in the town. Before they came down again the fly had crept up to the door, but there was no one waiting for them in the hall except Miss Jean, and she was ready with a second welcome.

"It is good to see ye here, Willie," said she as they went into the parlour together.

Jean had gone straight to the dining-room, and her father heard her there giving orders to Phemie in her usual voice. By and by she came out, carrying her head high--"the young lady of Saughleas" indeed; and Mr Dawson smiled at his fears as she came slowly toward him. She went up the long room in the same stately way, holding out her hand and saying gravely,--

"You are welcome home, Captain Calderwood."

But when they looked into each other's faces--these two who had been strangers so long--how it all happened cannot be told. Did he clasp her to him? or did she lay her head upon his breast?

It was only amazement that the father felt at first. No one knew less than he did himself whether he was glad or sorry at the sight. And then Miss Jean came over to him with slow soft steps, and they went out together.

"George," said she gently, "I think I might say that I have nothing else to wish for here, if I were sure that this didna trouble you."

"It canna be helpit, it seems, whether or no," said he, but he let her take his hand, and his eyes looked soft and kindly.

George and Marion came in at the moment and made a diversion.

"Are ye no' ower weary to be down again, my dear?" said Mr Dawson. "Ye ha'e had an afternoon of exertion and excitement, and ye maun mind that ye ha'e anither dependin' on ye now."

"Tired! Do I look tired?" said Marion.

Certainly there was no sign of fatigue in the bright face of the young mother as she came smiling toward him.

"Weel, then, George, ye'll bring in your aunt and Mrs Calderwood. The dinner has waited long, and it shall wait no longer." And he gave his arm to Marion as he spoke.

"My dear," said he, leading her to Jean's place at the head of the table, "sit ye here, for I doubt Jean will want little dinner the day."

And it was Marion's seat ever after.

"Has any thing happened to Jean?" said Marion. "Nothing is wrong, I hope."

"Nothing that can be helpit, I doubt. Ye'll hear in time, I dare say."

And then he nodded to Mrs Calderwood who had grown very white.

"Ay, it's the old way. I doubt your Willie is thinking as little of you as my Jean is of me at this moment. But we'll take our dinner anyway."

Mrs Calderwood sat down without a word. It was an awkward hour for every one of them, though Miss Jean and her nephew did what they could to keep up conversation for them all. It was all the more so for Mr Dawson, that he was not sure what his own feelings were or ought to be.

He sat hardly hearing what was said, though he put in a word now and then, but all the time he was thinking,--

"If any one had said to me four years since that the widow Calderwood's daughter would be sitting at the head of my table, and that I should be glad to see her there, would I have believed it? And her mother too, the very sight o' whose widow's cap used to anger me in the kirk itself.

As for Jean, my sister, I ay ken when she's pleased, though she says nothing. And George too, though I dare say he's sorry for me, and will say no word to his friend, till I give him leave--as I maun do now, I suppose, whether I'm pleased or no'."

But Mr Dawson was less displeased than he supposed himself to be. He had been taken utterly by surprise, which was never agreeable to him, even when the surprise was a pleasant one. And it came to him with a feeling of comfort that neither his sister nor his son was likely to make a mistake, and be glad for the wrong thing where Jean was concerned. But it was a long hour to him, and when it was over he went away as his custom was for a while's peace to his own peculiar domain.

And here after a little Jean found him. She went in, feeling very much as she used to feel long ago, when some piece of girlish mischief more than usually serious, made her conscious of meriting a rebuke from her father.

She had been upstairs since she came home, and now wore one of her prettiest gowns, as befitted the occasion, and she had put a rose in her hair, which had not happened for a long time; and when her father turned at the sound of her voice, he saw as fair and sweet a daughter as ever gladdened a father's heart.

She had always been fair and sweet, but there was a new look in her face to-day. Her eyes fell before his; but he knew it was rather to veil the happiness that shone in them, than to hide the shyness which made it not easy for her to look up. His heart could not but grow soft as he looked.

"Were you wanting me, papa?" said Jean, feeling more and more like the childish culprit that was to be chidden first and then forgiven. Mr Dawson himself thought of those days, when his hardest words to Jean were sure to end gently, as he bade her be a good la.s.sie and go to her mother. But he did not let the softness pa.s.s into his look or his voice as he said,--

"What is this that I have been hearing of you, Jean?"

"Are ye very angry, papa? I couldna help it."

"Dinna ye think I have a right to be angry, hearing such a tale after all these years?"

"But, papa, I didna ken. I thought he had forgotten me, and whiles I wasna sore that he had ever cared; and, papa, nothing has been said even yet." Mr Dawson laughed.

"And ye wouldna have broken your heart, even if this confident sailor had never come home?"

"No, papa. I don't think it. There is always plenty of work in the world, and I would have tried to do my share, as Auntie Jean has done.

I should not have broken my heart, but--you are not very angry, papa?"

"My dear, my anger is neither here nor there. Ye are your ain mistress now, and can do as you please without asking my leave."

Jean went white as she listened, and sat suddenly down, gazing at him with wide, startled eyes. She had expected her father to be disappointed, perhaps angry, but she had expected nothing so terrible as this.

"Papa," she said, rising and coming a step nearer, "nothing can happen without your full and free consent. If you cannot give it, you must send--Captain Calderwood away--"