The Twa Miss Dawsons Part 9

Mrs Eastwood was there again, but not by invitation. She had not been aware that there was to be such gay doings at Saughleas, she said, when she came into the garden, and she stayed a while at Miss Jean's request, to enjoy the sight of so many happy bairns. But she was not bright and beaming and bent on pleasing every one, as she had been the first time she was at Saughleas.

To tell the truth, she was anxious and unhappy, at a loss what to do, or whether she should do any thing, or just let events take their own course. It was her brother and his affairs that occupied her thoughts.

She had been so long accustomed to think for him, and advise him, he had come to her so constantly for help in the various difficulties into which he had fallen during his life, and she had been so successful in helping him, and so happy in doing so, that she could not--though she sometimes tried--divest herself of a feeling of personal responsibility for his well-being. And now that he seemed to be at a turning point in his life, she felt all the anxiety of one who had a decision of importance to make, with no one at hand on whose judgment she could rely for guidance.

It added to her unhappiness, that she could not quite free herself from blame in regard to the matter to be decided. She need not have made herself unhappy about her own course. Nothing that she had done or left undone, had much to do with the intentions of which her brother had informed her that morning. She had been conscious of a feeling of relief for herself at the chance of his finding the means of amusing himself innocently in the country. That was the uttermost of her sin towards him. But his frequent visits to Saughleas, and his loiterings in Portie, would have been none the less frequent had he believed that his sister missed and mourned every hour of his absence.

And her present anxiety as to his next step was just as vain. She could neither help nor hinder it, and, whatever might be the result, neither praise nor blame could justly fall to her because of it. But she did not see it so, and so she had come to Saughleas with many vague thoughts as to what it might be wise to do, but with a firm determination as to one thing that was to be plainly said before she went away again.

Her first thought when she saw the pleasant confusion that the children were making on the lawn and in the gardens was, that nothing could be said to-day. But by and by, when children and young people, her brother among the rest, went away to amuse themselves with games in the field beyond the wood, the way to speak was opened to her, and she saw no reason why she should not say all that was in her mind. It was to Miss Jean she had intended to say it, and Miss Jean was sitting under the beeches with folded hands, ready to listen. And yet, looking into the grave, serene face of Miss Jean, she did hesitate. She could not tell why; for Miss Jean was only a person who had kept a shop, and counted and h.o.a.rded the pence, and who knew their value. A commonplace, good-natured woman, not easily offended, why should she not say to her all that she had to say--and say it plainly too?

And so she did. And Miss Jean listened with no offence apparently, with only a little gleam of surprise and interest in her eyes, and perhaps a little gleam of amus.e.m.e.nt also. Mrs Eastwood was not sure. She did not say much, but she said it very plainly.

Miss Jean must have noticed the frequency of Captain Harefield's visits to Saughleas, and his warm admiration of the young ladies, her nieces.

It had gone beyond admiration, she had reason to think, as to one of them. Indeed her brother had intimated as much to her, and had filled her with anxiety; for her brother had no fortune. Of course if he married he would wish to leave the army. Could Miss Jean tell her whether the fortune which Mr Dawson could give his daughter would be sufficient to insure the comfort of the young people in case of a marriage?

"And did your brother send you to ask?" said Miss Jean quietly. "And why do you ask me?"

"Of course he did not I speak because of my own anxiety, and you must see that I could not speak to Mr Dawson about money until a proposal had been made."

"Weel, madam, I can give you no help and no information. I have no'

sufficient knowledge of my brother's means, or of his intentions. And I could not influence him in this matter, even if I were to try. Which of them is it?"

But strangely enough Mrs Eastwood could not answer this question. The intimation she had that morning received of her brother's intention to propose to Mr Dawson for the hand of his daughter, had not been very definite or very clearly given. It had come in during a discussion of other and painful matters, with which money, or rather the want of money, had to do. And if her brother had told her which of them he intended to honour, she had failed to understand him, or she had forgotten. So her reply did not touch this question.

"I cannot say whether I approve or disapprove of his choice. Your niece is very pretty and lady-like, and she would take her husband's rank-- and, my dear Miss Dawson, I trust you will not think me mercenary, but my brother can give his wife a high station, and a place in society, and to make the marriage an equal one, or in the least degree suitable, there should not only be beauty and grace, which your niece I must acknowledge has, but--money."

"And plenty of it," said Miss Jean.

"Of course. And unless there is, as you say, plenty of it, Percy should not be allowed to speak."

"But if they love one another?"

Mrs Eastwood turned and looked at Miss Jean. She had rather avoided doing so hitherto. She was not sure that the old woman was not laughing at her. Miss Jean's face was grave enough however.

"If there is not a prospect of--of--a fortune, he should not be allowed to speak. Not that I do not admire your niece. I admire her extremely.

She is clever, and sensible also, and would restrain--I mean she would influence her husband. She would make a good wife to Percy, who is--who needs some one to lean on."

"A heavy handfu'," said Miss Jean, unconsciously repeating her niece's words.

There was a silence of several minutes between them, and then Mrs Eastwood continued, carrying on her own train of thought.

"Of course I knew that the foolish boy admired the young lady--fancied himself in love; but that has often happened to him before, and I thought it would pa.s.s with the month. But they are very pretty and fresh, and the tall one is clever, and she would--yes, she would make him a good wife--provided--"

Miss Jean's spirit was stirred within her, but she said nothing; and Mrs Eastwood said all the more, unconsciously betraying her belief that it would be the best thing that could happen to her brother, that he should marry and settle down with a wife clever enough to influence him.

And to influence him meant, evidently, to keep him from spending too much money, and from the companionship of those who loved to lead him astray.

She did not say in plain words that his marriage with such a one would be a great relief to her and that it would be the saving of him to be kept out of London and out of harm's way for the greater part of the year; but Miss Jean saw clearly that she was more eager for his success than she was willing to acknowledge. Miss Jean listened silently and patiently. Her niece knew her own mind, doubtless, and would not be likely to allow herself to be influenced by the wishes of any one, and she had no call to reprove, or even to resent, the "ill manners" of the lady.

So she sat silent and let the softly spoken words "go in at one ear and out of the other," till she heard the tramp of a horse's feet, and knew that her brother was come home, and then she rose, and invited Mrs Eastwood into the house, hoping that she would refuse the invitation and take her departure. For at the sound of her brother's voice, Miss Jean's heart misgave her.

CHAPTER SEVEN.

A MISFORTUNE.

Miss Jean's heart misgave her, for she knew that the thought suggested to her brother on the morning when Mrs Eastwood and Captain Harefield came to Saughleas to inquire about poor Tibbie Cairnie had returned to him more than once; and she feared that should Captain Harefield speak to-day, he might not refuse to listen, and then there would be troublous times before them.

That there was even a possibility that he should be willing to listen to him was amazing to Miss Jean. So wise and cautious and far-seeing as he had always shown himself to be, how could he think of trusting any part of the wealth which he had spent his life in gathering, to the hands of a man who had proved himself incapable of making a good use of that which had fallen to him? To say nothing of being willing to trust him with his daughter!

There was comfort here, however. Jean's welfare was in her own keeping.

Miss Jean was not so much at a loss as Mrs Eastwood, as to which of her nieces Captain Harefield intended to seek. And she was glad it was Jean, for Jean could hold her own against father and lover and all. But still there was trouble before them, for, strangely enough, her brother, hard-working and practical, a thorough man of business, had taken pleasure in the comings and goings of this young man so utterly unlike himself in all essential respects. She had seen it with wonder and a little amus.e.m.e.nt at first; but she knew now, or she thought she knew, that he had been preparing disappointment for himself and vexation to her bonny Jean.

"Truly we need guidance," she said aloud, and then she rose and invited Mrs Eastwood to go in to the house and take a cup of tea, hoping all the time that she might refuse, and that she might be away before Mr Dawson came.

It was not to be so arranged however. Mr Dawson was delighted to see Mrs Eastwood, and expressed his pleasure so frankly, that Miss Jean thought it possible the lady might take courage, and make known to him as plainly as she had done to her the cause of her visit. So, instead of moving away with the help of her cane, as she had at first intended to do, she seated herself again. Not that she thought that her presence would be likely to prevent her speech, but she was curious to know how the matter, so interesting to the lady, should be presented to a new listener; and curious also to see how her brother might receive it.

There were the usual inquiries and compliments as to health, and the usual remarks about the weather and the appearance of the country, and then Mrs Eastwood spoke of the benefit she had received from her long stay, and her regret that the time of her departure was so near. Then Mr Dawson inquired with more interest than the occasion demanded, whether Captain Harefield was to leave also.

"If he take my advice about it, he will certainly do so," said Mrs Eastwood. "But that is doubtful. The interest of the season is just beginning to him, and as he has had his leave extended, he may remain."

"He is a keen sportsman, I hear," said Mr Dawson.

"Oh, yes; and the shooting here is good, they say, and does not involve very much fatigue. Yes, he will probably stay for a little; though I think he had much better go, for various reasons."

She spoke with a certain significance of tone and manner, and Mr Dawson remained silent, expecting to hear more; and possibly he might have had the pleasure of hearing of Captain Harefield's hopes and his sister's opinions, had no interruption occurred.

But at the moment a sudden outcry arose somewhere in the garden. They could see nothing where they were sitting, but they heard the sound of many voices--entreating, expostulating, scolding, and at last they heard words.

"Ye needna tell, May. Naebody will ken wha did it."

"I wouldna tell Mr Dawson--for--oh! for ony thing."

"An' naebody will ken that it was you that did it."

"It wasna me, but it was my fault; and if Sandy winna tell, I must, and just take the wyte (blame) mysel'."

"Eh! Marion! Yon's him speaking to the leddy. I wouldna be you for something."

"Something untoward has happened, I doubt," said Miss Jean. "I hope no ill has come to any of the apple-trees."

Now Mr Dawson's apple-trees were the pride of his heart. It is not easy to raise fruit trees of any kind so near to the sea; and as far as apple-trees are concerned, the fruit is not of the best, when success has crowned persevering effort. But on a few young trees, bearing for the first time, there hung several apples beautiful to behold, and they had been watched through all the season with interest by every one in the house, but above all by Mr Dawson. So when Miss Jean said "apple-trees," he rose at once to satisfy himself that they were safe.

But alas! before he had fairly turned to go, all doubt was at an end.

There were many children at a little distance, and two or three were drawing near, and in the hand of one, a girl in her teens, was a broken branch, on which hung two of the half dozen apples from the best of all the trees. Mr Dawson had watched them with too great interest not to know just where the little branch belonged. He did not speak,--indeed the little maiden did not give him time.

"It was a' my wyte, Mr Dawson, and I'm very grieved," said she, holding up the branch, and looking up into his face with eager, wistful eyes.

Mr Dawson took it, but he looked not at it, but at the child, saying nothing.