_ CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.
"It is just three years to-night since we came to M. Did you remember it, Arthur?" said Graeme, looking up from her work.
"Is it possible that it can be three years?" said Arthur, in surprise.
"It has been a very happy time," said Graeme.
Rose left her book, and came and seated herself on the arm of her brother's chair. Arthur took the cigar from his lips, and gently puffed the smoke into his sister's face. Rose did not heed it.
"Three years!" repeated she. "I was quite a child then."
The others laughed, but Rose went on without heeding.
"It rained that night, and then we had a great many hot, dusty days. How well I remember the time! Graeme was ill and homesick, and we wished so much for Janet."
"That was only at first, till you proved yourself such a wonderful nurse and housekeeper," said Graeme; "and you were not at all homesick yourself, I suppose?"
"Perhaps just a little at first, in those hot, dreary days," said Rose, gravely; "but I was not homesick very long."
"I am afraid there were a good many dreary days about that time--more than you let me know about," said Arthur.
Graeme smiled and shook her head.
"I am afraid you had a good many anxious days about that time. If I had known how hard you would have to work, I think I would have stayed in Merleville after all."
"Pooh! Nonsense! Hard work is wholesome. And at the very worst time, what with one thing and another, we had a larger income than my father had in Merleville."
"But that was quite different--"
"Did I tell you that I have got a new client? I have done business for Mr Stone before, but to-day it was intimated to me, that henceforth I am to be the legal adviser of the prosperous firm of 'Grove & Stone.' It will add something to our income, little woman."
Rose clapped her hands, and stooping down, whispered something in her brother's ear.
"Don't be planning any extravagance, you two, on the strength of 'Grove & Stone.' You know any superfluous wealth we may have, is already appropriated," said Graeme.
"To the Merleville visit. But this is not at all an extravagance, is it, Arthur?" said Rose.
"That depends--. I am afraid Graeme is the best judge. But we won't tell her to-night. We must break the matter to her gently," said Arthur.
"Graeme is so dreadfully prudent," sighed Rose.
Graeme laughed.
"It is well there is one prudent one among us."
"I don't believe she would at all approve of your smoking another cigar, for instance. They are nicer than usual, are they not?" said Rose, inhaling the fragrance from her brother's case.
"Yes. I treated myself to a few of the very best, on the strength of Grove & Stone. They are very nice. Have one?"
Rose took it with great gravity.
"Suppose we take a little walk first, and smoke afterwards," said she, coaxingly.
Arthur made a grimace.
"And where will you beguile me to, when you get me fairly out?"
"There is no telling, indeed," said Rose. "Graeme, I am going to put on my new hat. When Mr Elliott honours us with his company, we must look our very best, you know."
"But, Arthur, you have an engagement to-night. Don't you remember?" asked Graeme.
"To Mrs Barnes'," said Rose. "Miss Cressly brought home my dress to-day, and she told me all about it. Her sister is nurse there. The party is to be quite a splendid affair. It is given in honour of Miss Grove, who has just come home. I wish I were going with you."
"You may go without me! I will give you my invitation. It is a great bore, and I don't believe I shall go. I don't see the good of it."
"But you promised," said Graeme.
"Well, I suppose I must go for a while. But it is very stupid."
"Just as if you could make us believe that. It must be delightful. I think it's very stupid of you and Graeme, not to like parties."
"You forget. I was not asked," said Graeme.
"But you might have been, if you had returned Mrs Barnes' call soon enough. How nice it would have been! I wish I were Miss Grove, to have a party given for me. She is a beauty, they say. You must notice her dress, Arthur, and tell me all about it."
"Oh! certainly," said Arthur, gravely. "I'll take particular notice. But come, get your hats. There is time enough for a walk before I go. Haste, Rosie, before the finest of the evening is past. Are you coming, Will? Man! you shouldna read by that light. You will blind yourself. Put away your book, you'll be all the better for a walk."
They lingered a moment at the gate.
"Here is Harry!" exclaimed Rose. "And some one with him. Charlie Millar, I think."
"We will wait for them," said Arthur.
The look that came to Graeme's face, as she stood watching her brother's coming, told that the shadow of a new care was brooding over her, and the light talk of her brother and sister told that it was one they did not see. She stood back a little, while they exchanged greetings, and looked at Harry with anxious eyes.
"Are you going out, Graeme?" asked he, coming within the gate.
"Only to walk. Will you go with us? Or shall I stay?"
"Miss Elliott," interposed Charlie Millar, "I beg you will not. He doesn't deserve it at your hands. He is as cross as possible. Besides, we are going to D street, by invitation, to meet the new partner. He came yesterday. Did Harry tell you?"
"Harry did not come home last night. What kept you, Harry?" asked Rose.
"We were kept till a most unreasonable hour, and Harry stayed with me last night," said Charlie.
"And of course Graeme stayed up till all hours of the night, waiting for me," said Harry, with an echo of impatience in his voice.
"Of course she did no such foolish thing. I saw to that," said Arthur. "But which is it to be? A walk, or a quiet visit at home?"
"Oh! a walk, by all means," said Charlie Millar.
"I have a great mind not to go," said Harry.
"Nonsense, man! One would think you were about to receive the reward of your evil deeds. I refer to you, Miss Elliott. Would it be respectful to the new firm, if he were to refuse to go?"
"Bother the new firm," said Harry, impatiently.
"The new partner, you mean. He has taken a most unreasonable dislike to my brother at first sight--calls him proud, and a snob, because he happens to be shy and awkward with strangers."
"Shy! A six-footer, with a beard enough for three. After that I'll vanish," said Harry.
"I don't think Harry is very polite," said Rose.
"Never mind. There are better things in the world than politeness. He will be more reasonable by and by," said Harry's friend.
"So your brother has come," said Graeme. "How long is it since you have seen him?"
"Oh! not for ten years. He was home once after he came out here, but I was away at school, and did not see him. I remembered him quite well, however. He is not spoiled by his wanderings, as my mother used to fear he might be;" then he added, as Harry reappeared, "the fact is, Miss Elliott, he expected to be asked to dinner. We must overlook his ill-temper."
"By all means," said Graeme, laughing.
"Thank you," said Harry. "And I'll try to be patient."
"Well, shall we go now?" said Arthur, who had been waiting patiently through it all. The others followed him and Will.
"Is your brother going to remain here?" asked Graeme. "That will be nice for you."
"Yes, on some accounts it would be nice. But if they send Harry off to fill his place at the West, I shall not like that, unless, indeed, they send us both. And I am not sure I should like that long."
"Send Harry!" exclaimed Graeme.
"Nonsense, Graeme!" said Harry. "That is some of Charlie's stuff."
"I hope so; but we'll see," said Charlie. "Miss Elliott, I had a letter from my mother to-day." The lad's eyes softened, as he turned them on Graeme.
"Have you?" said Graeme, turning away from her own thoughts to interest herself in his pleasure. "Is she quite well?"
"Yes, she is much better than she was, and, Miss Elliott, she sends her love to you, and her best thanks."
"For what?" said Graeme, smiling.
"Oh! you know quite well for what. What should I have done, if it had not been for you and Harry? I mean if you had not let me come to your house sometimes."
"Stuff!" said Harry.
"Truth!" said Charlie. "I never shall forget the misery of my first months, till Harry came into our office. It has been quite different since the night he brought me to your house, and you were so kind as to ask me to come again."
"That was no great self-denial on our part," said Graeme, smiling.
"You minded Graeme on some one she used to know long ago," said Rose. "And, besides, you are from Scotland."
Both lads laughed.
"And Graeme feels a motherly interest in all Scottish laddies, however unworthy they may be," said Harry.
And so they rambled on about many things, till they came to the gate of Mr Elphinstone's garden, beyond which Arthur and Will were loitering.
"How pretty the garden is!" said Rose. "Look, Graeme, at that little girl in the window. I wonder whether the flowers give her as much pleasure, as they used to give me."
"I am afraid she does not get so many of them as you used to get," said Graeme.
"Come in and let me gather you some," said Charlie.
"No, indeed. I should not venture. Though I went in the first time without an invitation. And you dare not pick Mr Stirling's flowers."
"Dare I not?" said Charlie, reaching up to gather a large spray from a climbing rose, that reached high above the wall.
"Oh! don't. Oh! thank you," said Rose.
As far down as they could see for the evergreens and horse-chestnuts a white dress gleamed, and close beside the little feet that peeped out beneath it, a pair of shining boots crushed the gravel.
"Look," said Rose, drawing back.
"The new partner," said Harry, with a whistle. "A double partnership-- eh, Charlie?"
"I shouldn't wonder," said Charlie, looking wise.
"He knows what he's about, that brother of yours. He's cute. He knows a thing or two, I guess."
"Harry," said Rose, gravely, "don't talk slang. And I don't think it very polite to speak that way to Mr Millar about his brother."
"My dear Rosie, I am not talking slang, but the pure American language; and I think you are more considerate about other people's brothers than you are of your own. Twice this night I have heard your brother called cross and disagreeable, without rebuke."
"You deserved it," said Rose, laughing.
"Miss Rose," said Charlie, "let your smile beam on him for one moment, and he can't look cross for the rest of the evening."
Rose turned her laughing face to her brother.
"Be a good boy, Harry. Good bye."
As they returned, Will and Rose went on before, while Graeme lingered with Arthur.
"Did you hear what Mr Millar said about the possibility of Harry's being sent West? It must be to take the new partner's place, I suppose," said Graeme, after a little.
"No; did he say so? It would be a capital good thing for Harry."
"Do you think so? He would have to leave home."
"Yes; that would be a pity, of course; but the opening for him would be a very good one. I doubt whether there is much in it, however. Harry has been for so short a time in the employment of the firm, and he is very young for a place so responsible. Still, it may be. I know they have great confidence in him."
There was a pause, and they walked slowly on.
"Arthur," said Graeme, in a low voice. "Do you think Harry is--quite steady?"
"Steady," repeated Arthur in a surprised and shocked tone. "Why should you doubt it?"
Graeme strove to speak quietly, but her hand trembled on her brother's arm, and he knew it cost her an effort.
"I dare say there is no cause for doubt. Still, I thought I ought to speak to you. You will know better than I; and you must not think that I am unkind in speaking thus about Harry."
"You unkind! No; I should think two or three things before I thought that. But tell me why you have any fears?"
"You know, Arthur, Harry has been very late in coming home, a good many times lately; and sometimes he has not come at all. And once or twice-- more indeed--he has been excited, more than excited--and--"
Graeme could not go on.
"Still, Graeme, I do not think there is any real cause for apprehension. He is young and full of spirit, and his society is sought after--too much for his good, I dare say. But he has too much sense to give us any real cause for uneasiness on that ground. Why, Graeme, in P street Harry is thought much of for his sense and talent."
Graeme sighed. There came into her mind something that her father had once said, about gallant ships being wrecked at last. But she did not speak.
"Shall I speak to him, Graeme? What would you like me to do? I don't think there is much to fear for him."
"Well, I will think so, too. No; don't speak to him yet. It was hearing that he might be sent away, that made me speak to-night. I dare say I am foolish."
They walked on in silence for a little, and then Graeme said,--
"I hope it is only that I am foolish. But we have been so happy lately; and I mind papa and Janet both said to me--it was just when we were beginning to fear for Menie--that just as soon as people were beginning to settle down content, some change would come. It proved so then."
"Yes; I suppose so," said Arthur, with a sigh. "We must expect changes; and scarcely any change would be for the better as far as we are concerned. But, Graeme, we must not allow ourselves to become fanciful. And I am quite sure that after all your care for Harry, and for us all, you will not have to suffer on his account. That would be too sad."
They said no more till they overtook the children,--as Rose and Will were still called in this happy household.
"I have a good mind not to go, after all. I would much rather stay quietly at home," said Arthur, sitting down on the steps.
"But you promised," said Graeme. "You must go. I will get a light, and you need not stay long."
"You must go, of course," said Rose. "And Graeme and I will have a nice quiet evening. I am going to practise the new music you brought home."
"A quiet evening," said Will.
"Yes; I have rather neglected my music of late, and other things, too. I'm sure, I don't know where the time goes to. I wish I were going with you, Arthur."
"You are far better at home."
"Yes, indeed," said Graeme; and Will added,--
"A child like Rosie!"
"Well, be sure and look well at all the dresses, especially Miss Grove's, and tell me all about them."
"Yes; especially Miss Grove, if I get a glimpse of her in the crowd, which is doubtful."
"Well, good-night," said Rose. "I don't believe there will be a gentleman there to compare to you."
Arthur bowed low.
"I suppose I ought to say there will be no one there to compare with you. And I would, if I could conscientiously. But 'fine feathers make fine birds,' and Miss Grove aspires to be a belle it seems,--and, many who don't aspire to such distinction, will, with the help of the dressmaker, eclipse the little Scottish Rose of our garden. Good-night to you all--and Graeme, mind you are not to sit up for me past your usual time."
He went away, leaving Rose to her practising, Will to his books, and Graeme to pace up and down the gallery in the moonlight, and think her own thoughts. They were not very sad thoughts, though Arthur feared they might be. Her brother's astonishment at her fears for Harry, had done much to re-assure her with regard to him; for surely, if there were danger for Harry, Arthur would see it; and she began to be indignant with herself for having spoken at all.
"Arthur will think I am foolish. He will think that I have lost confidence in Harry, which is not true. I wish I were more hopeful. I wish I did not take fright at the very first shadow. Janet aye said that the first gloom of the cloud, troubled me more than the falling of the shower should do. Such folly to suppose that anything could happen to our Harry! I won't think about it. And even if Harry has to go away, I will believe with Arthur, that will be for the best. He will be near Norman, at any rate, and that will be a great deal. Norman will be glad. And I will not fear changes. Why should I? They cannot come to us unsent. I will trust in God."
But quite apart from the thought of Harry's temptation or prospects, there was in Graeme's heart a sense of pain. She was not quite satisfied in looking back over these pleasant years. She feared she had been beginning to settle down content with their pleasant life, forgetting higher things. Except the thought about Harry, which had come and gone, and come again a good many times within the last few months, there had scarcely been a trouble in their life daring these two years and more. She had almost forgotten how it would seem, to waken each morning to the knowledge that painful, self-denying duties lay before her. Even household care, Nelly's skill and will had put far from her.
And now as she thought about all of this, it came into her mind how her father and Janet had always spoken of life as a warfare--a struggle, and the Bible so spoke of it, too. She thought of Janet's long years of self-denial, her toils, her disappointments; and how she had always accepted her lot as no uncommon one, but as appointed to her by God. She thought of her father--how, even in the most tranquil times of his life--the time she could remember best, the peaceful years in Merleville, he had given himself no rest, but watched for souls as one who must give account. Yes, life was a warfare. Not always with outward foes. The struggle need not be one that a looker-on could measure or see, but the warfare must be maintained--the struggle must only cease with life. It had been so with her father, she knew; and through his experience, Graeme caught a glimpse of that wonderful paradox of the life that is hid with Christ in God,--constant warfare-- and peace that is abiding; and could the true peace be without the warfare? she asked herself. And what was awaiting them after all these tranquil days?
It was not the fear that this might be the lull before the storm that pained her, so much as the doubt whether this quiet time had been turned to the best account. Had she been to her brothers all that father had believed she would be? Had her influence always been decidedly on the side where her father's and her mother's would have been? They had been very happy together, but were her brothers really better and stronger Christian men, because of her? And if, as she had sometimes feared, Harry were to go astray, could she be altogether free from blame?
The friends that had gathered around them during these years, were not just the kind of friends they would have made, had her father instead of her brother been at the head of the household; and the remembrance of the pleasure they had taken in the society of some who did not think as their father had done on the most important of all matters, came back to her now like a sin. And yet if this had worked for evil among them, it was indirectly; for it was the influence of no one whom they called their friend that she feared for Harry. She always came back to Harry in her thoughts.
"But I will not fear for him," she repeated often. "I will trust God's care for Harry and us all. Surely I need not fear, I think I have been beginning at the wrong end of my tangled thoughts to-night. Outward circumstances cannot make much difference, surely. If we are humble and trustful God will guide us."
And busy still with thoughts from which renewed trust had taken the sting, Graeme sat still in the moonlight, till the sound of approaching footsteps recalled her to the present. _