Chapter VI: The Laird Speaks

"I held her hand, the pledge of bliss,
Her hand that trembled and withdrew;
She bent her head before my kiss,
My heart was sure that hers was true."
Landor.

ROWENA drew a long breath, then she said very quietly: "Of course I will. I am all attention!"

"I want to refer again to that letter which I sent you before you went to India, and which you never received. In it I asked you if you would write regularly to me as a friend, and I felt then I had no right to ask you if you could link your life to mine, because of my delicate health, and because—I could not offer you the gift you deserve—the offer of a first fresh love! I told you in the letter that if I did not hear from you in response I should conclude you did not want our acquaintance to deepen into warm friendship; and, not hearing, I concluded you felt we must remain merely acquaintances. I have tried to put you out of my thoughts. It is quite impossible. I know I am years older than you, that I am a quiet humdrum sort of creature, who has no attractive qualities for a bright young woman like yourself; but I cannot help that. My child loves you, and I—well, you have been in my heart and life from the first day I ever saw you, and I want your love if you can give it to me. I want to take you away from this life you are leading, back to Abertarlie. Will you give me the right to do it?"

Rowena's eyes were downcast. She did not speak for a moment. The rush of happiness that came to her heart almost overcame her self-control. She had striven for many a long day to put this friend out of her thoughts. She had taken herself to task for thrilling all over when he spoke or looked at her. She had schooled herself to consider that he and she would always remain pleasant friends, but would never get nearer each other. And now he cared—he had always cared!

He waited patiently; and then she looked up. Tears were glistening in her eyes. She stretched out her hands to him.

"Here I am," she said simply; "to belong to you will be bliss, for you have had my love for a long time."

"Really?"

He seemed as if he could not quite believe it. His humble diffidence was most touching. Then he took her in his arms, and no further speech was needed.

"If you had had that letter," he said presently, "you would never have gone to live with Mrs. Burke. Rowena dearest, you must leave her at once. I cannot bear to think of you continuing to live with her."

Rowena looked at him with her old sunny smile.

"Hugh,—you see your name comes quite easily to my lips; I am afraid I have often called you by it in my heart before—if you love me, you must trust me. Look me in the eyes, and tell me if you can."

"Who would not?" was his emphatic response.

"Then don't overpower me with your protecting love and care. I am not a weak young girl. I have had to stand alone, and be a prop to others, and think of their faltering steps before my own. And at present Mrs. Burke is my mission in life. Your love won't shatter that to pieces."

"But you cannot enjoy her society."

"I am fond of her; and I want to help her back to the old paths in which her feet once were. It is slow work, but she is beginning to hanker after them. Her present life satisfies her less and less. You must not tear me away from her just yet."

"I feel I want you at once; and I don't and I can't approve of your home here."

"No; and it is difficult to make you understand. But we won't mar this best hour in my life by talking of disagreeables. Do you know, I am just a wee bit afraid of you? Am I to give up my own individuality and freedom of soul if I link my life to yours? Am I to look-out upon the world only through your eyes, and not through my own?"

"Never!" said the General fervently. "Your individuality is what has drawn me to you. You have always done me good by your wise counsel. I should have lost my child's affection had I not listened to you. No, Rowena, I want you to be your own true dear fearless self always. But—well, we will not discuss it now. You have made me too happy for words. I feel as if I am beginning life again, as if I have been walking under a forest of dark gloomy impenetrable trees, and have just emerged into glorious sunshine!"

"I believe tea is coming in," said Rowena demurely. "It's a pity we still have to eat and drink. Will you stay to tea, General Macdonald?"

The butler was in the room. The General looked as if he wished him farther, but his time alone with Rowena was over. Mrs. Burke returned home, bringing two young men and a girl with her, and General Macdonald promptly took his leave. As his hand touched Rowena's he said:

"When shall we see you? I won't send Mysie round now. May I call to-morrow, after I have done my business, and will you come to lunch with us? I will bring an invitation from my old cousin when I come."

She nodded to him brightly, then turned to help entertain Mrs. Burke's visitors. But she was rather dreamy and silent, and Mrs. Burke's quick eyes perceived it.

When they were alone together later she said:

"What has that old fusty friend of yours been saying to you? Something unpleasant about me I don't doubt."

"No; indeed he has not. We hardly mentioned you."

Rowena felt she could not announce her engagement till she had had some quiet time to herself. She was longing to get away into the solitude of her own room, but Mrs. Burke went on talking. If she had no visitors she liked to chat with Rowena over the fire between tea and dinner. She enjoyed talking over all her doings of the day, and making fresh plans for the morrow.

"I shall be quite glad when that man takes his departure. I think I feel jealous of him. I don't like him hanging round you as he does. Is he going to-morrow?"

"Yes—to-morrow evening."

Rowena stared into the fire as she spoke. Mrs. Burke looked at her sharply; then went on:

"I think we must leave town next week. It is getting near Christmas, and I mean to have a big house-party this year. You will be glad, I know. How you hate town, don't you?"

"It is always such a rush," Rowena said. "You make me breathless. I cannot keep pace with you. And I don't feel so young as you do. I get so tired."

"I'm rather tired myself," Mrs. Burke admitted; "but I'm only tired when I'm doing nothing. Now, to-morrow morning I'm going to drive the Carlton Hughes down to Richmond in a car—we shall lunch there. But I've promised to go to the matinée at Chelsea for the Poor Actors' Fund, so I must be back early. Would you like to come with me?"

"Not unless you really want me."

"I can do without you. I've asked Lady Goring and her brother to dinner, and the Yates, and I think Mr. Wales is coming in afterwards with his violin—I've asked him professionally. Lady Goring is mad on music, and so is her brother. He has just returned from India, rather a nice man. You'll see to the table decorations, won't you? The new parlour maid is such a fool—she's no ideas in the floral line."

"Oh, I'll see to the dinner; and I shall have a quiet day to myself," said Rowena contentedly. "Don't you think we had better write and let Mrs. Gates know we are returning to the Court so soon? She will want to get things ready."

"Yes; write to her to-morrow."

The talk went on. At last the dressing-bell rang, and Rowena was free. She went up to her room and sank into a chair before her fire. She could hardly believe, even now, how her whole future life would become altered by the event of the afternoon.

She realized that responsibilities and cares would mingle with the vista of sunshine and joy that lay before her. She wondered how Mysie would take the news.

"She loves me now; but she is also most devoted to her father. Will she think that I shall step in between them? I hope not. I hope that she will be willing to have me as a stepmother. Perhaps it is a good thing that she is still so young. A few years later, and it would be very difficult with a grown-up daughter. I don't think I should have the courage to go through it! And yet I don't know; with Hugh at my side I feel I would do and dare anything. It is wonderful to have got his love. He has always seemed a little unapproachable. I must make him unbend. I will—I must, for his own sake, get him to be less stern and autocratic. I dare say I shall have a few pitched battles with him. But it is his strength and determination that I love so. I wonder if we shall quarrel over Mrs. Burke? I will not be rushed into a hasty marriage; he must wait my time." Then she remembered that she had not mentioned the invitation to lunch which was coming for her. "I must tell her to-night, and get it over. It is of no use to hide it."

So after dinner Rowena said:

"I forgot to tell you that General Macdonald wants me to go round to lunch with them to-morrow. He may call here himself in the morning."

"Ah! This is your quiet day! Rowena, is there anything between you?"

Rowena sat in her low chair with her hands clasped loosely round her knees. She turned towards Mrs. Burke with a glow upon her cheeks as she said:

"I hope you won't be vexed if I tell you that there is."

"I knew it! It is my fate! Oh, I wish I had never brought you to town, and then you would never have met him! I felt from the first he was determined to take you from me!" Mrs. Burke got up from her chair and paced the floor furiously. "I hate him!" she burst forth. "A narrow-minded bigot! He condemns every one who doesn't think alike with him. He will rule you and keep you under his thumb, and be a despotic tyrant. How can you be such a fool as to marry him? Don't you value your liberty and independence? Is it all settled?"

"We have loved each other for a long time," said Rowena. "You must remember I knew him before I met you."

Mrs. Burke came back to her seat.

"I feel inclined to blubber like a baby. I can't let you go, Rowena. Are you going to leave me at once?"

"No; indeed I am not."

"I believe if you had stayed with me you could have done anything with me," said Mrs. Burke helplessly. "I don't know how it is, but I have said to myself more than once, 'It is no good for you to resist, Rowena means to drag you after her into heaven itself.' And I've been wretched. I confess to you I have. You've never preached to me; but just a word here and a word there—it's been like the dropping of water upon a stone. I've stifled my conscience and gone desperately on; but the honest truth is that I am getting old and tired, and would give worlds to have the peace and rest of soul which you have. Now I don't care! If you leave me I shall plunge along in the old way. I never thought I could get so fond of anyone as I have of you. I feel I could kill that gaunt grey man who has come here making love to you behind my back. I know his sort. He has an iron will, and can make you do anything he chooses. And I beg you to count the cost, and consider calmly while you have your senses in your own possession, whether this contemplated marriage of yours will be a success. I know men better than you do, and I know this Scotchman. I knew him by repute. He did not make his first wife very happy. He ignored and neglected his child, till he was shamed into doing something for her. She was being brought up as a little savage; his cousin, Mrs. Graeme, told me all about it. And he'll crush your spirit and lead you the life of the condemned. Let him marry Marion. She's the sort for him. The kind of woman who would black his boots and lie down for him to tread upon her. But you have character and a will of your own. You will never be happy with him. Do, I beseech you, reconsider it, and tell him you can't marry him!"

Mrs. Burke paused for breath.

Rowena leant towards her and took her hand in hers.

"My dear Mrs. Burke, I can't help being grateful to you for your affection. But you really don't know Hugh Macdonald, as I do, or as my brother did. You must remember he is an old friend of my family's. I won't discuss his character with you. You are doing him great injustice, and he would make any woman happy—of that I am assured."

"Not me!" put in Mrs. Burke emphatically.

Rowena laughed; she could not help it.

"No; I cannot fancy you and him pulling together. But I shall be more than content. Don't let us talk any more of my engagement. I am not leaving you at present. We will go down to Minley and have a nice Christmas together. Don't let us look on too far into the future. You have made me very happy to-night."

"How?" asked Mrs. Burke in a bewildered tone.

"Oh, it was something you said. You are turning round with wistful eyes to the old road on which your feet once travelled. And you will soon be back there again. Now forgive me, but I'm going to quote a prophet's words: 'Stand in the ways, and see and ask for the old paths, where is the good way and walk them, and ye shall find rest for your souls.' You are standing now and seeing. The rest will follow."

"Ridiculous girl!" Mrs. Burke moved restlessly in her seat as she spoke. Then she said: "You have a way of getting confessions out of me, and then you turn and rend me with your Bible verses. People don't believe in the Bible nowadays. It is only a collection of Eastern sages' sayings."

"I used not to believe in it, until I began to read it. You have only to read it, and read it, and read it by itself, without any commentaries or other books which justify its divinity, to be certain that it is inspired. It begins to feed and nourish your soul at once in the most wonderful way. I have proved it."

"And now your sermon is ended," said Mrs. Burke, with a forced laugh, "and we will go to bed edified by it. And to-morrow you will have to hear more of my opinions concerning your Scotch General. I am glad to hear you do not intend leaving me at present. Perhaps the fates will intervene, and he may meet with some accident or illness which will take him to the sphere for which he is fitted. He is certainly not fitted for this one."

Rowena felt it useless to protest. She knew and understood Mrs. Burke too well to be hurt or offended by her words, and she realized that she was talking recklessly to hide her feelings. She kissed her affectionately when she wished her good night, and Mrs. Burke had the grace to be ashamed of herself.

"You will have to go over to your sister-in-law to tell her the news. She will give you the sympathy you ought to have. You can't expect me to like it, if it means that you are going to leave me."

By mutual instinct they both avoided the subject of her engagement the next day. Mrs. Burke went down to Richmond, and about twelve o'clock General Macdonald appeared, his cousin's note in his hand.

Rowena was ready for him. In her dark green cloth coat and skirt, with sable furs, a present from the generous Mrs. Burke, and a green velvet picture hat, she looked very handsome and dignified. But her radiantly happy face as she turned towards him made him exclaim as he greeted her:

"Oh, Rowena, I hope I shall be worthy of you!"

"Now, I must make a stipulation that I have no more speeches of that sort," she said, laughing. "Let us both consider ourselves the best of human beings. It will give us such a nice satisfied, comfortable sort of feeling. Have you told Mysie?"

"In a kind of way."

"How did she take it?"

"She was of course overjoyed at the prospect. You don't think she would object?"

"She might. Stepmothers are not popular with children."

"Oh, I didn't go into details. Have you told your old lady?"

"Yes. She is not very pleased."

"I can understand that. Don't you think you and I could walk into some quiet church here and have the marriage service to ourselves? I don't want to hurry you, but Mysie is expecting you at Abertarlie for Christmas."

A flush came into Rowena's cheeks. That prospect seemed so alluring; but she shook her head.

"I cannot leave Mrs. Burke so soon. I am spending Christmas with her at her country house. We must wait a little longer."

General Macdonald looked disappointed. He called a taxi, and they drove off to Eton Place. Mysie had been watching out for them at the drawing-room window, and came dancing out into the hall. Rowena kissed her very lovingly.

"Oh," the little girl exclaimed as she hugged her tight, "Dad says you're coming to stay with us. What does it mean? Are you going to be my governess? Cousin Bel seems so mysterious about it, and Dad wouldn't tell me properly."

She was taking Rowena up to the drawing-room now, which was empty. For a moment they were alone, as General Macdonald had stopped to take some letters from the old butler.

Rowena put her hand under Mysie's chin and turned her face upwards.

"Now you and I are going to be quite fair and square, Flora. How would you like me to come and live with you and Dad for always?"

Mysie's blue eyes gleamed.

"But why haven't you done it before? I've always been telling Dad that you ought to. And then cousin Bel said the other day that it would not be proper. Such ridic'lous nonsense!"

"I could only do it one way," said Rowena softly, "and that would be by marrying your Dad. He wants me to do it. What do you say?"

Mysie gave a delighted yell.

"Then you'd belong to us for ever and ever! Oh, Mignon, it would be heavenly! And you and I would go and see the fairies' hills; and we'd tell each other stories by the fire when Dad was out; and—oh, I think I could scream for joy at the thought of it! You'd always be there when I wanted you, and you'd help me and love me always. Why didn't Dad tell me the whole of it, not just a little bit? I thought you were only coming for a visit."

Rowena's heart felt as light as a feather. She could say no more, for General Macdonald appeared, leading in his old cousin, Mrs. Peale, who greeted her very warmly.

"Very glad to see you, my dear. Your name is quite familiar to me; and now I have seen you I quite understand why I have heard so much about you. Hugh is to be congratulated."

"And I think I am, too," said Rowena, smiling.

They had a pleasant lunch together. Mysie was in the greatest delight, and chattered incessantly about all that Rowena would have to do and see at Abertarlie. Mrs. Peale checked her at last.

"My dear child, we don't want to hear any more about that wonderful Highland home of yours. I shall advise Miss Arbuthnot to live half the year in London—certainly the greater part of the winter she ought to be here."

"But she loves the Highlands; don't you, Mignon?"

"I adore them, Flora. Sometimes a bit of bracken or the smell of a wood fire will give me a whiff of the sweet Highland air, and then I forget everything and everybody, for my soul flies over there at once, and my body sits with a daft smile, deaf to every one till my soul comes back again."

Mysie clapped her hands.

"Yes, and now you'll belong to us altogether."

When lunch was over Mrs. Peale insisted upon Mysie going upstairs to the drawing-room with her, leaving the General and Rowena alone.

And they had a delightful hour together.

"It will be the first time that I return home regretfully," General Macdonald said; "but if you are leaving town at once, I should not have seen much more of you."

"No; we must just be patient. When the New Year comes perhaps we can make plans. Do you expect to hear from me?"

"Need you ask?"

"I am not very good at writing letters, but I shall write to you in my quiet times."

General Macdonald was standing looking down upon her. How he loved her low mellow voice and her happy laugh. As she raised her glowing mischievous eyes to him now, he just stooped and enclosed her face between his two hands.

"Rowena, I feel as if I cannot part from you. I don't think you know how impatience has seized my soul, and I do want to get you out of Mrs. Burke's clutches. How long are you going to keep me waiting?"

"Until I can provide her with a nice substitute. I want to get a great-niece of hers to come and live with her. If I am successful, I shall not mind leaving her. I promise to write and tell you everything that is going on, even how many At Homes and parties I attend in the week." Then he gently released herself. "I won't tease you," she said. "I assure you I live a very normal life when we are in the country. Very much the sort of life that you do at Abertarlie."

"Oh," he said, drawing a long breath, "what a lot of things we shall have to discuss together when you come down there, and how you will help me in some of my plans for the good of the people round!"

Time slipped away only too soon. Rowena had to return to Mrs. Burke's early, and the General and Mysie both accompanied her to the door. She wished them good-bye there; and after they had left her, she felt a sudden depression of spirit seize her.

"I could have gone to Geraldine for Christmas, got my things ready and married him in the New Year. Why do I cling on to Mrs. Burke so? I shall have to leave her sooner or later. I suppose it is my lack of courage in tackling anything disagreeable. But I do feel awfully sorry for her. She is like a child who has always had her own way."