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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/36490-8.txt b/36490-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a8662f9 --- /dev/null +++ b/36490-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,12220 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, A Reconstructed Marriage, by Amelia Edith +Huddleston Barr, Illustrated by Z. P. Nikolaki + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: A Reconstructed Marriage + + +Author: Amelia Edith Huddleston Barr + + + +Release Date: June 21, 2011 [eBook #36490] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A RECONSTRUCTED MARRIAGE*** + + +E-text prepared by Katherine Ward, Mary Meehan, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made +available by Internet Archive/American Libraries +(http://www.archive.org/details/americana) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustration. + See 36490-h.htm or 36490-h.zip: + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/36490/36490-h/36490-h.htm) + or + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/36490/36490-h.zip) + + + Images of the original pages are available through + Internet Archive/American Libraries. See + http://www.archive.org/details/reconstructedmarr00barriala + + + + + +A RECONSTRUCTED MARRIAGE + +by + +AMELIA E. BARR + +Frontispiece by Z. P. Nikolaki + + + + + + + +New York +Dodd, Mead and Company +1910 + +Copyright, 1910, by +Dodd, Mead and Company + +Published, October, 1910 + +The Quinn & Boden Co. Press +Rahway, N.J. + + + + + TO + MY DEAR FRIEND + MRS. HARRY LEE + THIS BOOK + IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED + + + + + +CONTENTS + + + I A PROSPECTIVE MOTHER-IN-LAW + + II PREPARING FOR THE BRIDE + + III THE BRIDE'S HOMECOMING + + IV FOES IN THE HOUSEHOLD + + V BAD AT BEST + + VI THE NAMING OF THE CHILD + + VII THE NEW CHRISTINA + + VIII A RUNAWAY BRIDE + + IX THE LAST STRAW + + X THEODORA MAKES A NEW LIFE + + XI CHRISTINA AND ISABEL + + XII ROBERT CAMPBELL GOES WOOING + + XIII THE RECONSTRUCTED MARRIAGE + + + + +A RECONSTRUCTED MARRIAGE + + + + +CHAPTER I + +A PROSPECTIVE MOTHER-IN-LAW + + +As it was Saturday morning, Mrs. Traquair Campbell was examining her +weekly accounts and clearing off her week's correspondence; for she +found it necessary to her enjoyment of the Sabbath Day that her mind +should be free from all worldly obligations. This was one of the +inviolable laws of Traquair House, enunciated so frequently and so +positively by its mistress, that it was seldom violated in any way. + +It was therefore with fear and uncertainty that Miss Campbell ventured +to break this rule, and to open softly the door of her mother's room. No +notice was taken of the intruder for a few moments, but her presence +proving disastrous to the total of a line of figures which Mrs. Campbell +was adding, she looked up with visible annoyance and asked: + +"What do you want, Isabel? You are disturbing me very much, and you know +it." + +"I beg pardon, mother, but I think the occasion will excuse me." + +"What is the occasion?" + +"There is something in my brother's room that I feel sure you ought to +see." + +"Could you not have waited until I had finished my work here?" + +"No, mother. It is Saturday, and Robert may be home by an early train. I +think he will, for he is apparently going to England." + +"Going to England, so near the Sabbath? Impossible! What set your +thoughts on that track?" + +"His valise is packed, and directed to Sheffield; but I think he will +stop at a town called Kendal. He may go to Sheffield afterwards, of +course." + +"Kendal! Where is Kendal? I never heard of the place. What do you know +about it?" + +"Nothing at all. But in going over the mail, I noticed that four letters +with the Kendal post-office stamp came to Robert this week. They were +all addressed in the same handwriting--a woman's." + +"Isabel Campbell!" + +"It is the truth, mother." + +"Why did you not name this singular circumstance before?" + +"It was not my affair. Robert would likely have been angry at my +noticing his letters. I have no right to interfere in his life. You +have--if it seems best to do so." + +"Have you told me all?" + +"No, mother." + +"What else?" + +"There is on his dressing table, loosely folded in tissue paper, an +exquisite Bible." + +"Very good. Robert cannot have The Word too exquisitely bound." + +"I do not think Robert intends this copy of the Word for his own use. +No, indeed!" + +"Why should you think different?" + +"It is bound in purple velvet. The corner pieces are of gold, and a +little gold plate on the cover has engraved upon it the word _Theodora_. +Can you imagine Robert Traquair Campbell using a Bible like that? It +would be remarked by every one in the church. I am sure of it." + +Mrs. Campbell had dropped her pencil and had quite forgotten her +accounts and letters. Her hard, handsome face was flushed with anger, +her tawny-colored eyes full of calculating mischief, as she demanded +with scornful passion: + +"What is your opinion, Isabel?" + +"I can only have one opinion, mother. You know on what occasion a young +man gives such a Bible. I am compelled to believe that Robert is engaged +to marry some woman called Theodora, who lives probably at Kendal." + +"He can not! He shall not! He must marry Jane Dalkeith,--Jane, and no +other woman. I will not permit him to bring a stranger here, and an +Englishwoman is out of all consideration. _Theodora, indeed! Theodora!_" +and she flung the three words from her with a scorn no language could +transcribe. + +"It is not a Scotch name, mother. I never knew any one called +Theodora." + +"Scotch? the idea! Does it sound like Scotch? No, not a letter of it. +There were never any Theodoras among the Traquairs, or the Campbells, +and I will not have any. Robert will find that out very quickly. Why, +Isabel, Honor is before Love, and Honor compels Robert to marry Jane +Dalkeith. Her father saved Robert's father from utter ruin, and I +believe Jane holds some claim yet upon the Campbell furnaces. It has +always been understood that Robert and Jane would marry, and I am sure +the poor, dear girl loves Robert." + +"I do not believe, mother, that Jane could love any one but herself; and +I feel sure that if the Campbells owed her money, she would have +collected it long ago. Why do you not ask Robert about the money? He +will know if anything is owing." + +"Because Scotch men resent women asking questions about their business. +They will not answer them truly; often they will not answer them at +all." + +"Ask Jane Dalkeith herself." + +"Indeed, I will not. When you are as old as I am, you will have learned +to let sleeping dogs lie." + +"Will you go and look at the Bible?" + +"It is not likely I will be so foolish. Surely you do not require to be +told that Robert left it there for that purpose. He has his defence +ready on the supposition that I will ask him about this Theodora. On the +contrary, he shall bring the whole tale to me, beginning and end, and I +shall make the telling of it as difficult and disagreeable as possible." + +"I am afraid I have interfered with your Saturday's duties, mother; but +I thought you ought to know." + +"As mother and mistress I ought to know all that concerns either the +family or Traquair House. I will now finish my examinations and +correspondence. And Isabel, when Robert comes home, ask him no +questions, and give him no hint as to what has been discovered. I am +very angry at him. He ought to have told me about the woman at the very +beginning of the affair; and I should have put a stop to it at once. It +might have been more easily managed then than it will be now." + +"Can you put a stop to it at all, mother?" + +"Can I put a stop to it?" she cried scornfully. "I can, and I will!" + +"Robert is a very determined man." + +"And I am a very positive woman. At the last and the long, in any +dispute, the woman wins." + +"Sometimes the man wins." + +"Nonsense! If he does win now and then, it is always a barren victory. +He loses more than he gains." + +"I don't wish to discourage you, mother, but Robert is gey stubborn, and +I feel sure that in this case he will take his own way, and no other +person's way." + +"I desire you not to contradict me, Isabel." She turned to her papers, +lifted her pencil, and to all appearance was entirely occupied by her +bills and letters. Isabel gave her one strange, inexplicable look ere +she left the room, shutting the door this time without regard to noise +and with something very like temper. + +In the corridor she hesitated, standing with one foot ready to descend +the stairs, but urged by a variety of feelings to take the upward flight +which led to her own and her sister Christina's rooms. At present she +was "out" with Christina, and they had not spoken to each other, when +alone, for three days. But now the pleasure of having something new and +unusual to tell, the desire to talk it over, and perhaps also a modest +little wish to be friends with her sister, who was her chief confidant +and ally, induced her to seek Christina in her room. + +She knocked gently at the door, and Christina said in an imperative +voice, "Come in." She thought it was one of the maids, and Christina +wasted no politeness on any one, unless manifestly to her own interest +or pleasure. But Isabel understood the curt permission was not intended +for her, and, opening the door, went into the room. Christina, who was +reading, lifted her eyes and then dropped them again to the book. For +she was amazed at her sister's visit, and knew not what to say, priority +of birth being in English and Scotch families of some consequence. In +their numerous disagreements Christina had never expected Isabel to make +the first advances towards reconciliation. Almost without exception she +had been the one to apologize, and she had been thinking about ending +their present trouble when Isabel visited her. + +For a few minutes she was undecided, but as Isabel took a comfortable +chair and was evidently going to remain, Christina realized that her +elder sister had made a silent advance, and that she was expected to +speak first. So she laid down her book, and pushing a stool under +Isabel's feet, said in a fretful, worried voice: + +"I am so glad to see you, sister. I have been very unhappy without your +company. You know I have no friend but you. I am sorry I spoke rudely to +you. Forgive me!" + +"Christina, we are the world to each other. No one else seems to care +anything about us, and it is foolish to quarrel." + +"It was my fault, Isabel. I ought to have known you were not wearing my +collar intentionally." + +"Why should I? I have plenty of collars of my own. But we will not go +into explanations. It is better to agree to forget the circumstance." + +"Life is so lonely without you, and our little chats with each other are +the only pleasure I have. I wonder if there is, in all Glasgow, a house +so dull as this house is." + +"It will soon be busy and gay enough. Things are going to be very +different in Traquair House. They may not effect our lives much--it is +too late for that, Christina--but we shall have the fun of watching the +rows there are sure to be with mother. Bring your chair near to me. I +have a great secret to tell you." + +As they sat down together it was impossible to avoid noticing how much +they resembled each other personally. Nature had intended both of them +to be beautiful, but their obtuse, grieved faces had been marred in +early years by the disappointments, sorrows, and tragic mistakes of the +children of long ago; and later by their pathetic acquiescence in their +ill-assorted fates, and the cruel certainty of youth gone forever, +without the knowledge of youth's delights. Isabel was now thirty-three +years old, and Christina twenty-eight, and on their dark faces, and in +their sombre, black eyes, there was a resentful gloom; the shadow of +lives that felt themselves to be blighted beyond the power of any good +fortune to redeem. + +The two sisters had lost hope early, and for this weakness they were +partly excusable, since they had the most crushing and unsympathetic of +mothers. Mrs. Campbell was a woman of iron constitution, iron nerves, +and principles of steel. She was never sick, and she was angry if her +children were sick; she met every trouble with fight, she was +contemptuous to those who wept; she was never weary, but she made life a +burden to all under her sway. + +In another way their father had been still more unfortunate to them. +Intensely vain and arrogant, he had inherited a large business which he +had not had the ability or the intelligence to manage. When he had +nearly ruined it, the generosity of a distant relative--jealous for the +honor of the name--came to the rescue; but he placed over all other +authority a manager who knew what he was doing, and who was amenable to +advice. Then Traquair Campbell, unwilling to acknowledge any superior, +became a semi-invalid; and retired to a seclusion which had no other +duty than the indulgence of his every whim and desire, making his two +daughters the handmaids of his idle, self-centred hours. Year after year +this slavery continued, and their youth, beauty, and education, their +hopes, pleasures, and even their friends, were all demanded in sacrifice +to that dreadful incarnation of Self, who made filial duty his claim on +them. It was scarcely two years since they had been emancipated by his +death, and the terror of the past and the shadow of it was yet over +them. + +Such treatment would have soured even good dispositions, but the nature +of both these girls was as awry by inheritance, as their destiny in +regard to parental influence and environment had been tragically +unfortunate. Only the loftiest or the sweetest of spirits could have +dominated the evil influences by which they were surrounded, and turned +them into healthy and happy ones. And neither Isabel nor Christina knew +the uplifting of a lofty ideal, nor yet the gentle power of the soft +word and the loving smile. + +Sitting close together and moved by the same feelings, their physical +resemblance was remarkable. As before said, Nature had intended them to +be beautiful. Their features were regular, their hair abundant, their +eyes dark and well formed, their figures tall and slender, but they +lacked those small accessories to beauty without which it appears crude +and undeveloped. Their faces were dull and uninteresting for want of +that interior light of the soul and intellect without which "the human +face divine" is not divine--is indeed only flesh and blood. Their +abundant hair was badly cared for, and not becomingly arranged; their +figures, in spite of tight lacing, badly managed and ungracefully +clothed; their eyes, though dark and long-lashed, carried no +illumination and were only expressive of evil or bitter emotions; they +knew not either the languors or the sweet lights of love or pity. Isabel +and Christina had slipped about sick rooms too much; and they had been +too little in the busy world to estimate themselves by comparison with +others, and so find out their deficiencies. + +This morning their likeness to each other was accentuated by the fact +that they were dressed exactly alike in dark brown merino, with a narrow +band of white linen round their throats. Each had fastened the linen +band with a gold brooch of the same pattern, and both wore a small Swiss +watch pinned on her plain, tight waist. + +Isabel reclined in her chair, and as she knew all there was to know at +present, a faint smile of satisfaction was on her face. Christina sat +upright, with an almost childish expression of expectation. + +"What do you know, Isabel?" she asked impatiently. "How, or why, are +things going to be different in Traquair House?" + +"Because there is to be a marriage in the family." + +"A marriage! Is it mother? Old lawyer Galt has been very attentive +lately." + +"No, it is not mother." + +"Then it is Robert?" + +Isabel nodded assent. + +Christina's eyes filled with a dull, angry glow, and there were tears in +her voice, as she cried: + +"If that is so, Isabel, I will leave Traquair House. I will not live +with Jane Dalkeith. She is worse than mother. She would count every +mouthful we ate, and make remarks as nasty as herself." + +"Exactly. That would be Jane's way; but I am led to believe Robert will +never marry Jane Dalkeith." + +"Who then is he going to marry? I never heard of Robert paying attention +to any girl." + +"I have found out the person he is paying attention to." + +"Who is it, Isabel? Tell me. I will never mention the circumstance." + +"Her name is Theodora." + +"What a queer name--Miss Theodora. Do you know, it sounds like a +Christian name; it surely can not be a surname." + +"You are right. I do not know her surname." + +"How did you find it out--I mean Robert's love affair?" + +Isabel described the discovery of the velvet-bound Bible while Christina +listened with greedy interest. "You know, Christina," she added, "that a +young man on his engagement always gives the girl a Bible." + +"Yes, I know; even servant girls get a Bible when they are engaged. Our +Maggie and Kitty did; they showed them to me. Do the men swear their +love and promises on them?" + +"I should not wonder. If so, a great many are soon forsworn!" + +"Is that all you know, Isabel?" + +"Four times this week she has written to Robert. I saw the letters in +the mail." + +"Love letters, I suppose?" + +"No doubt of it." + +"How immodest! Do you know where she lives?" + +"At a town called Kendal." + +"I never heard of the place. Is it near Motherwell? Robert often goes to +Motherwell." + +"It is in England." + +"Oh, Isabel, you frighten me! An Englishwoman! Whatever will mother say? +How could Robert think of such a dreadful thing! What shall we do?" + +"I see no occasion for us either to say or to do. There will be some +grand set-tos between mother and Robert. We may get some amusement out +of them." + +"Mother will insist on Robert giving up the Englishwoman. She will make +him do it." + +"I do not think she will be able. Mind what I say." + +"Robert has been under mother all his life." + +"That is so, but he will make a stand about this Theodora, and mother +will have to give in. He is now master of the works, and you will see +that he will be master of the house also. He will take possession of +himself, and everything else. I fancy we shall all find more changes +than we can imagine." + +"I don't care if we do! Anything for a change. I am almost weary of my +life. Nothing ever happens in it." + +"Plenty will happen soon. Robert has a way of his own, and that will be +seen and heard tell of." + +"He will not dare to counter mother very much. She will talk strict and +positive, and hold her head as high as a hen drinking water. You know +how she talks and acts." + +"I know also how Robert will take her talking. I have seen Robert's way +twice lately." + +"What is his way?" + +"A dour, cold silence, worse than any words--a silence that minds you of +a black frost." + +Having finished her story Isabel looked at her watch, and said: "I'll be +going now, Christina, and you can think over what is coming. We be to +consider ourselves in any change. I am almost sure Robert will be home +to-day at one o'clock, for if I am not mistaken, it will be the +Caledonian Railway Station at three o'clock. That train will land him in +Kendal about eight o'clock, just in time to drink a cup of tea with +Theodora, and have a stroll after it. There is a full moon to-night." + +"How did you find out about Kendal?" + +"Bradshaw; I suppose he knows." + +"Of course, but it will be late Saturday night when Robert arrives, and +surely he will not think of making love so near the Sabbath Day. I would +not believe that of him, however much he likes Theodora." + +"A handsome young Master of Iron Works can make love any day he pleases; +even Scotchwomen would listen gladly to what he had to say. I think I +would myself." + +"I would, but it might be wrong, Isabel." + +"I don't believe it would; anyway I would risk it." + +"So would I; but neither of us will be led into the temptation." + +"I fear not. Now I will be stepping downstairs. I have no more to say at +present and I should not like to miss Robert." + +"We are friends again, Isabel?" + +"We are aye friends, Christina. Whiles, there is a shadow between us, +but it is only a shadow--nothing to it but what a word puts right. There +is the lunch bell." + +"I had no idea it was so late." + +"Let us go down together. I hate the servants to be whispering and +snickering anent our little terrivees." + +They had scarcely seated themselves at the table when Robert entered the +room. He was a typical Scot of his order--tall, blonde, and very erect. +His eyes were his most noticeable feature; they were modern eyes with +that steely point of electric light in them never seen in the older +time. The lids, drawn horizontally over them, spoke for the man's +acuteness and dexterity of mind, and perhaps also for his superior +cunning. He was arrogant in manner, a trait either inherited or assumed +from his mother. In disposition he was kindly disposed to all who had +claims on him, but these claims required to be brought to his notice, +for he did not voluntarily seek after them. He certainly had humanity of +feeling, but of the delicacies and small considerations of life he was +very ignorant. + +As yet he was commonplace, because nothing had happened to him. He had +neither lost money, nor broken down in health, nor been unfairly treated +or unjustly blamed. He had never known the want of money, nor the +necessity for work; he had lost nothing by death and was only beginning +to gain by loving. In the eyes of all who knew him his conduct was +blameless. He was very righteous, and a great stickler for morality and +all respectable conventions; so much so, that even if he should sin, it +would be done with a certain decorum. But spiritually his soul lived in +a lane--the narrow lane of a bigoted Calvinism. + +This morning he was in high spirits, and inclined to be unusually +talkative. But it was not until the meal was nearly over that he said: +"There will be a new preacher in our church to-morrow morning. I am +sorry I shall not be able to hear him. Dr. Robertson says he has a +wonderful gift in expounding the Word." + +"When did you see the doctor?" asked Mrs. Campbell. + +"This morning. He called at my office on a little matter of business." + +"And why will you not hear the new preacher?" + +"I am going to England by the three o'clock train, mother." + +At this answer Isabel looked at Christina, and Mrs. Campbell said: "I +suppose you are going to Sheffield?" + +"Yes, I shall go to Sheffield." + +"You go there a great deal." + +"It belongs to my duty to go there." + +With these words he suddenly became--not exactly cross--but reserved and +ungracious. His mother's words had betrayed her. As soon as she remarked +on the frequency of his visits to Sheffield, he knew that she was aware +of the facts that she had positively asserted she would not name, and he +divined her intention to put him in the position of one who confesses a +fault or acknowledges a weakness. He retired immediately into the +fortress of his manly superiority. He was not going to be put to +catechism by a cabal of women, so he hastily finished his lunch and rose +from the table. + +"When will you return, Robert?" asked his mother. + +"In a few days. You had better give liberally to the church collection +to-morrow--paper or gold--silver from you will be remarked on." He +opened the door to these words, and, turning a moment, said "good-bye" +with a glance which included every one in the room. + +Silence followed his exit. Mrs. Campbell cut her veal chop into minute +strips, which she did not intend to eat; Isabel crumbled her bread on +her plate, lifted her scornful eyes a moment, and then began to fold her +napkin; Christina took the opportunity to help herself to another +tartlet. It was an uncomfortable pause, not to be relieved until Mrs. +Campbell chose to speak or rise. She continued the purposeless cutting +of her food, until Isabel's patience was worn out, and she asked: "Shall +I ring the bell, mother?" + +"No, I have not finished my lunch; you can safely bide my time. +Christina, pass me a tart." + +"Take two, mother. McNab makes them smaller every day. There is only a +mouthful in two of them." + +Mrs. Campbell took no notice of the criticism. + +"Isabel," she said, "what do you think of Robert's behavior?" + +"Do you mean the sudden change in his manner?" + +"Yes." + +"He had his own 'because' for it. I do not rightly comprehend what it +could be, unless he suspected from your remark that you had seen the +Bible, and were trying to lure him on to talk of Theodora." + +"That is uncommonly likely, but I'm not caring if he did." + +"Robert is very shrewd, and he sees through people as if they were made +of glass." + +"If he is going to marry the girl, why should he object to tell us about +her? Is she too good to talk about? Such perfect unreasonableness!" + +"He wished to tell us in his own time, and way, and thought a plot had +been laid to force his confidence. Robert Campbell is a very suspicious +man. He has a bad temper too. It is always near at hand, and short as a +cat's hair. And he hates a scene." + +"So do I. Goodness knows, I have always lifted myself above the ordinary +of quarrelling and disputing. Not so, Robert. He investigates the outs +and the ins of everything, and argues and argues about the most trifling +matter; but I must say, he is always in the wrong. And he can keep his +confidence as long as he wants to--the longer the better. I shall never +give him another opportunity." + +"It is a pity you offered him one this morning, mother." + +"I do not require to be reminded, Isabel. The whole affair, as it +stands, is an utterly unspeakable business. We will let it alone until +we have more facts, and more light given us." + +"Just so," answered Isabel. + +"Mother," interrupted Christina, "what do you say about the new preacher +and the collection?" + +"I know nothing about the new preacher. Dr. Robertson has aye got some +wonderfully gifted tongue in his pulpit, and all just to beguile the +silver out o' your purse." + +"Robert said we were not to give silver." + +"You will each of you give a silver crown piece; that, and not a bawbee +over it. As for myself, I am not going to church at all to-morrow. I am +o'erfull of my own thoughts and trouble. God will excuse me, I have no +doubt, for He knows the heart of a wounded mother." + +"Do you know what the collection is for, mother?" + +"The Foreign Missionary Fund. I have always been opposed to Foreign +Missions. The conversion of the heathen is in God's wise foreknowledge, +and He will accomplish it in His own way and time. It is not clear to me +that we have any right to interfere with His plans." + +"The world will come to an end when the heathen are converted," said +Christina. "Dr. Robertson read us prophecies to prove it, and then will +occur the Millennium, and the second coming of----" + +"Hush, Christina!" cried Mrs. Campbell impatiently. "The world is a very +good world, and suits me well enough in spite of Theodora, and the like +of her. I hope the world will not come to an end while I live. As to the +collection, you might each of you, as I said before, give a silver crown +piece. It is enough. Young people are not expected to give +extravagantly." + +"We are not young people, mother." + +"You are not married people. Women without husbands are not supposed to +have money to give away; women with husbands don't often have it either, +poor things!" + +"The greatest of all calamities is to be born a woman," said Isabel, +bitterly. + +"Especially a Scotchwoman," added Mrs. Campbell. "I have heard that in +the United States of America women are very honorably treated. Mrs. +Oliphant, who is from New York, told me a respectable man always +consulted his wife about his business, and his pleasure, and all that +concerns him, 'and in consequence,' she added, 'they are happy and +prosperous.'" + +"I did not know Mrs. Oliphant was an American," said Isabel. "Mr. +Oliphant comes from Inverness." + +"Inverness men are _too far north_ to be fools; and Tom Oliphant soon +found out that his wife's judgment and good sense more than doubled his +working capital. People say, 'Tom Oliphant has been lucky,' and so he +has, because he had intelligence enough to take his wife's advice. But +this is not a profitable or improving conversation, so near the Sabbath. +I will go to my room for an hour or two, girls. I have much to think +about." + +She left them with an air of despondency, but her daughters knew she was +not really unhappy. Some opposition to her supremacy she foresaw, but +the impending struggle interested her. She was not afraid of it nor yet +doubtful of its result. + +"I know my own son, I hope," she whispered to herself, "and as for +Theodora--_that_ for Theodora!" And she snapped her fingers scornfully +and defiantly. + +Isabel and Christina followed their mother, taking the long, broad +stairway with much slower steps. Their dull faces, listless tread, and +monotonous speech were in remarkable contrast to the passionate +eagerness of the elder woman, whose whole body radiated scorn and anger. +As they began the ascent, the clock struck three, and Isabel looked at +Christina, who answered her with a slight movement of the head. + +"He is just leaving the Caledonian Station," she said. + +"For Theodora," replied Christina bitterly. + +"How I hate that name already!" + +"And the girl also, Isabel?" + +"Yes, the girl also. What has she to do in our family? The Campbells can +live without her--fine!" + +"I wonder if Mrs. Robertson will ask us to meet this new minister." + +"I hope not. He will just be one of her 'divinity lads,' with his +license to preach fresh in his pocket. They are all of them poor and +sickeningly young. No man is fit to marry until he is forty years old, +unless you want the discipline of training him." + +"That is some of Mrs. Oliphant's talk, Isabel." + +"Mrs. Oliphant knows what she is talking about, Christina." + +"I wonder what you see in that American!" + +"Everything I would like to be--if I dared." + +"Why do you not call on her, then?" + +"Mother does not approve either of her conversation, or her dress, +Christina." + +"Her dress is lovely. I wish I could dress like her." + +"Christina Campbell! Her neck is shockingly uncovered, and her trains +half fill a small room. Mother says her modesty begins at her feet--and +stops there; but she is certainly very clever, and her husband waits on +her like a lover. The men look at him as if they thought him a fool, but +very likely he is the only wise man among them. What are you going to do +this afternoon?" + +"Dress and then unpick the work I did yesterday. It is all wrong." + +"How interesting!" + +"As much so as anything else. I should like to practise a little, but +the piano is closed on Saturdays." + +"That's all right. You always had a knack of playing unsuitable music on +Saturdays." + +"Mother makes two Sundays in a week. It isn't fair." + +By this time they were on the corridor of the floor on which their rooms +were situated, and as they stood at the door of Isabel's room, Christina +said: "At eight o'clock to-night, I wish you would make a remark about +Robert being with Theodora." + +"Make it yourself, Christina." + +"You know mother pays no attention to anything I say. You are the +eldest." + +But at dinner time Mrs. Campbell was in a mood so gloomy, that even +Isabel did not care to remind her of her son's delinquency. She did not +speak during dinner, and when tea was served she rose from the sofa with +a sigh so portentous, it caused the footman to stand still in the middle +of the drawing-room with the little silver kettle steaming in his hand. +She took her own cup with a sigh, and every time she lifted it or put it +down, she sighed deeply. Very soon Isabel began to sigh also, and +Christina ventured timidly to express her feelings in the same miserable +manner. But there was no spoken explanation of these mournful symptoms, +unless they typified disapproval and sorrow beyond the reach of words. + +As they sat thus with their teacups in their hands, a little clock on +the mantel struck eight. Mrs. Campbell cast reproachful eyes upon it. +"It reminds me, Isabel," she sighed; "you said eight o'clock, I think. +My poor son! He is now entering the gates of temptation." + +"I should not worry, mother. Robert is quite able to take care of +himself." + +Judging from the happy alacrity with which Robert left the train at +Kendal Station, Isabel's opinion was well founded. He had no doubts +about the road he was taking. He leaped into a cab, left his valise at +the Crown Inn, and then rode rapidly down the long antique street to a +pretty cottage standing with a church, or chapel, in a green croft +surrounded by poplar trees. + +The moon was full in the east, and the twilight still lingered in the +west, and in that heavenly gloaming a woman walked lightly towards the +little gate to welcome him. She had a tall, elastic, slender figure, and +moved with swift, graceful steps; her white dress, in that shadowy +mysterious light, giving her an ethereal beauty beyond description. + +Robert took both her hands, kissed them passionately, and led her to a +little rustic bench under the poplars. For a few moments they sat there, +and he filled his eyes and heart with her loveliness. Then they went +into the cottage and he found--as Isabel had predicted--that tea was +waiting for him. Theodora's mother, a woman of scrupulous neatness, +simple and unadorned, was sitting at the table; she smiled and gave him +her hand, and he sat down beside her. + +"How is Mr. Newton?" asked Robert. + +"He is in his study," she answered. "He will be here in a few minutes. +He does not wish us to wait for him." + +Theodora was at Robert's right hand, and never before had he thought her +beauty so bewildering. It had the magic of a countenance where the +intellect was of a high order, and the perfect features were the +portrait of a pure, translucent soul such as God loves. Her eyes +transfigured her, but the process was not intentional. Her sensitive +lips, her bright soft smile, her joyful heart, the fulness of her health +and life, all these things were entrancing, and made still more so, by +an unconsciousness sincere and natural as that of a bird, or a flower. +Robert Campbell might well feel his unworthiness, and tremble lest so +great a blessing should escape him. + +In a short time Mr. Newton entered. He had a tall, intellectual figure, +with the stoop forward and piercing glance of one straining after things +invisible. A singular unearthliness pervaded the whole man, and his +spare form appeared to be the suitable apparel for a pure and exalted +spirit. Prayer was his native air. He prayed even in his dreams. + +After some inquiries about the journey, the conversation turned +naturally to the subject of preaching. Robert Campbell remarked that, +"Sunday newspapers, Sunday magazines, and above all Sunday trips down +the river, had in Glasgow greatly injured Sabbath observance and +weakened the influence of the pulpit." + +"No, no, sir!" cried the preacher; "books, papers, amusements, nothing, +can take the place of sermons. The _face to face_ element is +indispensable. It is _the Word made Flesh_ that prevails. As soon as a +real preacher appears, what crowds follow him! Not to go back to the +preachers of old, consider only Farrar, Liddon, Spurgeon, Hyacinthe, +Lacordaire, and the great American Beecher. Think of Spurgeon for thirty +years preaching twice every Sunday to six thousand souls!" + +"Then you believe, sir, the influence of the pulpit depends on the +preacher?" + +"Yes. If there is a good intelligent man in the pulpit, there will be +good intelligent men in the pews." + +"Then you would have only highly-cultured, up-to-date men in the +pulpit?" + +"I would not have men in the pulpit whom no one would think of listening +to, out of the pulpit. The people want sermons that bring the pulpit +near to the hearth, the table, and the counter; sermons of homely +fertility, local allusions, and personal application, such as Christ +gave them. Remember for a moment His everyday similes and parables: the +lighting of a candle, the seeking of a piece of lost silver, the search +for the lost sheep. That is one kind of sermon that always draws +hearers. There is another kind that is irresistible to a very large +number--sermons full of the spirit of Paul, reaching out to the Heavenly +Church with its invisible rites and the splendor and music in the soul +of the saints." + +There was a silence, for the preacher was pursuing his thoughts, leaning +forward with a burning look, drinking in the joy of his own spiritual +vision. + +Robert broke the pause by saying: "We Scots are used to logical and +argumentative discourses," but he spoke in a much lower tone than was +usual to him. + +"Then your preachers must talk to their congregations in the pulpit, as +they never would think of talking to them out of it." + +"Well, we are not in favor of mingling sacred and material things; we +believe it might have a tendency to bring preaching into contempt." + +"Mr. Campbell," said Newton, "preaching is a great example of the +survival of the fittest. If it could have been killed by contempt, or +inefficiency, or ignorance, or too much book learning, or by any other +cause, the imbecile sermons preached every Sunday through the length and +breadth of the land would have killed it long ago." + +"Do you then consider oratorical power a necessity to preaching, sir?" + +"No. Other power can take its place, such as great piety, great +sincerity, the simplicity of the Gospel, or the personal character of +the preacher. I once heard Newman preach. He was far from what we are +accustomed to call eloquent. One long sentence was followed by another +equally long, separated by a sharp fracture like the utterance of a +primitive saint or martyr; but also like a direct message from heaven. +And never, while I live, shall I forget the ecstasy of love and longing +with which he cried out: 'Oh that I knew where to find Him! that I might +come into His presence!' The church of St. Mary was crowded with young +men, and I believe the heart of every one present burned within him, and +he longed as I did, to fall down and kiss the feet of Christ." + +Conversation akin to this sweetened the simple meal, and after it Robert +and Theodora walked up and down the pretty lane running past the Chapel +Croft. It had a hedge of sweet-briar which perfumed the warm, still air, +and the full moon made everything beautiful, and Theodora loveliest of +all. And though it was near the Sabbath, Robert did not hold his +sisters' creed regarding love-making at that time. He could no more help +telling Theodora how beautiful she was, and how he loved her +excellencies and her beauty, than he could help breathing. + +It was no new tale. He had told it to her ever since they first met. But +this night he felt he must venture all, to win all. The light on her +face, the sweet gentleness of her voice, the touch of her hand on his +arm, all these things urged him to ask that question, which if asked +from the heart, is never forgotten. Theodora answered it with a shy but +loving honesty. The little word which made all things sure was softly +spoken, and then the purple Bible was given, and clasping it between +their hands, they made over it their solemnly happy promises of eternal +love and faithfulness. And what conversation followed is not to be +written down; it was every word of it in the delicious, stumbling patois +of love. + +The next morning Robert went to the Methodist Chapel with Theodora, but +his Calvinism was in no degree prejudiced by the Arminian sermon, for he +did not hear a word of it. He was listening to the tale of love in his +heart, Theodora sat at his side, and he would not have changed places +with the king on his throne. Love had thrown the gates of life wide open +for the Queen of Love to enter in, and for the first time in all his +thirty years of existence, he knew what it was to be joyful. + +He left Kendal on Monday afternoon and went to Sheffield, and did much +profitable business there. And he was so gay and good-natured that many +thought they had misjudged him on former occasions, and that after all +he was really a fine fellow. Others wondered if he had been drinking, +and no one but a woman, the wife of one of his business friends with +whom he dined, had the wit to see, and to say: + +"The man is in love, and the girl has accepted him--poor thing!" + +"Why 'poor thing,' Louise?" + +"Because he will get out of love some day, and then----" + +"Then, what?" + +"He will be the old Robert Campbell, a little older, a little more +selfish, a little more sure of his own infallibility, and a great deal +worse-tempered." + +"That will depend on the girl, Louise." + +"And on circumstances! Generally speaking, women may write themselves +circumstances' 'most obedient servants.' They can't help it." + +In spite, however, of the disagreeable journey between Sheffield and +Glasgow, Campbell reached home in very good spirits. It was then four +o'clock in the afternoon, and he resolved to sleep a couple of hours +before seeing any one. He thought after dinner would be as good a time +as any for the communication he had to make to his family. Something of +a blusterer among men, he feared the woman he called mother. His sisters +he had never taken seriously, but he remembered they would come close to +Theodora, and that it might be prudent to have their good will. They +certainly could make things unpleasant if they wished to do so. + +He had always been able to sleep, on his own order to sleep, and was +proud of the circumstance; but this afternoon he had somehow lost this +control. Sleep would not obey his demand, yet he lay still, because he +had resolved to spend two hours in bed; nevertheless he rose unrested, +and decidedly anxious. + +Dinner was served at seven, and he entered the dining-room precisely at +that hour. His place was prepared for him, but the women knew better +than to fret him with exclamations, or with inquiries of any kind. He +was permitted to take his chair as silently as if he had never missed a +meal with them. And though this behavior was in exact accord with his +own desires, it did not suit him that night. He had seen a different +kind of family life at the Newtons', and no man is so self-reliant as to +find kind inquiries effusive and tiresome, if the kindness and interest +is lavished on himself. + +He was, however, good-tempered enough to praise the dinner, and to say +"Scotch broth and good Scotch collops were pleasant changes from the +roast beef of old England, her Yorkshire pudding and cherry pies." Mrs. +Campbell smiled graciously at this compliment, and answered: + +"I consider collops, Robert, as the most nutritive and delicious of all +the ways in which beef is cooked. I attribute my good health to eating +them so regularly, and though Jepson is constantly complaining of +McNab's extravagance and ill-temper, I always say, 'I don't care, +Jepson, what faults McNab has, she can cook collops.' Very few can make +a good dish of collops, so I think I am right." + +"Tell Jepson I say he is to let McNab alone. How did you like Dr. +Robertson's last _protégé_?" + +"I did not go to church. I was not well. The girls were there." + +"What is your opinion, Isabel?" + +"That he is very like the lave of the doctor's wonderfuls. Mrs. +Robertson told us, he had astonished his college by the tenderness of +his conscience and his spirituality; and when I asked her the +particulars, she said he had utterly refused to study the Latin Grammar +because it contained nothing spiritual. Greek and Hebrew, of course, for +they were necessary to a right reading of the Scriptures; but the Latin +Grammar had no spiritual relations with literature of any kind--far from +it. From what he had been told it was both idolatrous and immoral in its +outcome. I suppose he is from Argyle, for when there was talk of +expelling him for not conforming to rules, he wrote to the Duke, and the +great Duke stood by the lad, and complimented him on his tender +conscience, and the like, and took him under his own protection--and so +on. Mrs. Robertson is of the opinion, he may come to be the Moderator of +the Assembly with such backing." + +"And what do you think?" + +"I would not wonder if he did. He has the conceit for anything, and he +is a black Celt, and very likely has their covetous eye and greedy +heart. He will get on, no doubt of it. Why not? The great Duke at his +back, and himself always pushing to the front." + +"I thought he was nice-looking," said Christina timidly. "His fine black +eyes were fairly ablaze when he was preaching." + +"He is a ferocious Calvinist," added Isabel. + +"Well, he had fine eyes and was good-looking," persisted Christina. + +"Good looks are nothing, Christina," said Robert severely. "Beauty is +not a moral quality." + +"People who are good-looking get on in this world. I notice that. I wish +I was bonnie." + +"You are well enough, Christina," said Mrs. Campbell. "If you cannot +talk more sensibly, keep quiet." + +Christina with a wronged, grieved look subsided, and Mrs. Robertson's +reception for the conscientious youth, under the Argyle protection, +furnished the conversation until the cloth was drawn, and the ladies had +trifled awhile with their walnuts and raisins. Then Campbell rose, drank +the glass of wine that had been standing before him, and said: + +"I am going to the library to smoke half-an-hour. Then, mother, you and +the girls will join me there. I have something important to tell you." + +He did not wait for an answer, and his mother was furious at the +request. "Did you notice his tone, Isabel?" she inquired. "His words +sounded more like a command than a request. It is adding insult to +injury to summon me to his room--for nobody goes to the library but +himself--to hear the thing he has to tell. I shall go to my own room, +and he can come there and tell me his important news." + +"Mother, why not send for him to return here in half-an-hour?" + +This proposal was acceptable, and in half-an-hour Jepson was sent with +"Mrs. Campbell's compliments, and she hopes Mr. Campbell will return to +the dining-room, as she feels unable to bear the smell of tobacco +to-night." + +Mr. Campbell uttered two words in a low voice which sounded like +"Confound it!" but he bid Jepson tell Mrs. Campbell "he would return to +the dining-room immediately." Upon hearing which, Mrs. Campbell took a +reclining position on the sofa, and on her face there was the satisfied, +close-mouthed smile of one who compliments herself on winning the first +move. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +PREPARING FOR THE BRIDE + + +Campbell returned to the dining-room pleasantly enough. He placed his +chair at his mother's side, and asked: "Are you feeling ill, mother?" + +"Rather, Robert, and the library is objectionable to me, since you began +to smoke there. In fact, I have long been prejudiced against the room, +for your father had a trick of sending for me to come there, whenever he +was compelled to tell me of some misfortune. Consequently, I have +associated the library with calamity, and I did not wish to hear your +important news there." + +"Calamity? No, no! My news is altogether happy and delightful. Mother, I +am going to be married in October, to the loveliest woman in the world, +and she is as good and clever as she is beautiful." + +"Married! May I ask after the lady's name?" + +"Theodora Newton. Her father is the Methodist preacher at Kendal, a town +in Westmoreland." + +"England?" + +"Yes." + +"She is an Englishwoman?" + +"Of course!" + +"I might have known it. I never knew a Scotchwoman called Theodora." + +"It is a good name and suits her to perfection. Her father belongs to +the Northumberland Newtons, a fine old family." + +"It may be. I never heard of them. You say he is a Methodist preacher?" + +"A remarkable preacher. I heard him last Sunday." + +"Robert Campbell! Have you fairly forgotten yourself? Methodists are +Arminians, and Arminians I hold in utter abomination, as every good +Calvinist should." + +"I know nothing about such subjects. This generation, mother, is getting +hold of more tolerant ideas. But it makes no matter to me what creed +Theodora believes in. I should love her just the same even if she were a +Roman Catholic." + +"A man in love, Robert, suffers from a temporary collapse o' good sense. +But when I hear you say things like that, I think you are mad entirely." + +"No, mother. I never was so happy in all my five senses as I am now. The +world was never so beautiful, and life never so desirable, as since I +loved Theodora." + +"Doubtless you think she is a nonsuch, but I call your case one of +lamentable self-pleasing. To the lures of what you consider a beautiful +woman, you are sacrificing your noblest feelings and traditions. Don't +deceive yourself. Was there not in all Scotland a girl of your own race +and faith, good enough for you to marry?" + +"I never saw one I wanted to marry." + +"I might mention Jane Dalkeith." + +"You need not. I would not marry Jane if she was the only woman in the +world!" + +"You prefer above all others an Englishwoman and a Methodist?" + +"Decidedly." + +"You have made up your mind to marry this doubly objectionable woman?" + +"Positively, some time next October." + +"And what is to become of me, and your sisters?" + +"That is what I wish to understand." + +"I have my dower-house in Saltcoats, but it is small and uncomfortable. +If I go there, I shall have to leave the Kirk I have sat in for +thirty-seven years, the minister who is dear and profitable to me, all +the friends I have in the world, and the numerous----" + +"Mother, I wish you to do none of these things. This house is large +enough for us all. The south half, which you now occupy, you can retain +for yourself and my sisters. I shall refurnish, as Theodora desires, the +northern half, and if you will continue the management of the house and +table, we can all surely eat in our present dining-room. There will only +be one more to cater for, and I will allow liberally for that in the +weekly sum for your expenditure. Theodora is no housekeeper and does not +pretend to be. She is immensely clever and intellectual, and has been a +professor in a large Methodist College for girls." + +"You will be a speculation to all who know you." + +"I am not caring a penny piece. They can speculate all they choose to. I +shall meanwhile be extremely indifferent. I have come at last, mother, +to understand that in a great love there is great happiness. The whole +soul can take shelter there." + +"The soul takes shelter in nothing and in no one related to this earth. +That is some of last Sabbath's teaching, I suppose." + +"Yes," he answered. "I was at Theodora's side all last Sunday and I +learned this lesson in the sweetest way imaginable." + +"I wish you to talk modestly before your sisters, and I do not like to +hear the Sabbath called Sunday." + +Robert laughed and answered: "Well, mother, we have so little sunshine +in Scotland, we really cannot speak of any day as Sunday." + +"You may laugh, Robert, but such things are related to spiritual +ordinances, and are not joking matters." + +"You are right, mother. Let us get back to business. Will you accept my +proposal, or do you prefer to go to your own home?" + +"I have been used to consider this house my own home, for thirty-seven +years, and if I leave it, I wonder what kind of housekeeping will go on +in it, with a college woman to superintend things? You would be left to +the servant lasses, and their doings and not-doings would be enough to +turn my hair gray." + +"Then, mother, you will stay here, as I propose?" + +"I cannot do my duty, and leave." + +"I thank you, mother." Then, turning to his sisters, he said: "I hope +you are satisfied, girls." + +"There is no other course for us," answered Isabel. "We must stay where +mother stays. It would be unkind to leave her now--when you are +practically leaving her." + +"I hope Theodora will be nice," said Christina. "If she is, we may be +happy." + +"Do your best, Christina, to make all pleasant, and you will please me +very much," said Robert. "And, Isabel, I am not leaving any of you. +Marriage will not alter me in regard to my relationship to mother, +yourself, and Christina. I promise you that." + +"If you intend to make many alterations in the house, you will have to +see about them at once," said Mrs. Campbell. + +"To-morrow I shall send men to remove all the old furniture from the +rooms I intend to decorate." + +"To remove it! Where to?" + +"To Bailey's auction rooms." + +"Robert Campbell! Your poor, dear father's rooms, and he not gone two +years yet!" + +"To-morrow will be nine days short of the two years. Do you wish his +rooms to remain untouched for nine days longer, mother?" + +"It is no matter. Let his lounge, and his chair and his bagatelle board +go--let all go! The dead, as well as the living, must make way for +Theodora." + +"And, mother, as the hall will be entirely changed, and there will be +much traffic through it, you had better remove early in the morning +those huge glass cases of impaled insects and butterflies. If you wish +to keep them, take them to your rooms; if not, let them go to Bailey's." + +"They may as well go with the rest. Your father valued them highly in +this life, but----" + +"They are the most lugubrious, sorrowful objects. They make me shudder. +How could any one imagine they were ornamental?" + +"Your father thought them to be very curious and instructive, and they +cost a great deal of money." + +"If during the night you remember any changes you would like to make, we +can discuss them in the morning," said Robert. + +He went out gaily, and as he closed the door, began to sing: + + "_My love is like a red, red rose, + That's newly blown in June; + My Love is like a melody, + That's sweetly played in tune._" + +Then the library shut in the singer and the song, and all was silence. + +Mrs. Campbell did not speak, and Isabel looked at her with a kind of +contemptuous pity. She thought her mother had but lamely defended her +position, and was sure she could have done it more effectively. +Christina was simply interested. There was really something going to +happen, and as far as she could see, the change in the house would +bring other changes still more important. She was satisfied, and she +looked at her silent mother and sister impatiently. Why did they not say +something? + +At length Mrs. Campbell rose from the sofa, and began to walk slowly up +and down the room, and with motion came speech. + +"I think, Isabel," she said, "I signified my opinions and desires +plainly enough to your brother." + +"You spoke with your usual wisdom and clearness, mother." + +"Do you think Robert understood that I consider this house my house, and +that I intend to be mistress in it? Why, girls, your father made me +mistress here more than thirty-seven years ago. That ought to be enough +for Robert." + +"Robert is now in father's place," said Christina. + +"Robert cannot take from me what your father gave me. This house is +morally mine, and always will be, while I choose to urge my claim. I am +not going to be put to the wall by two lovesick fools. No, indeed!" + +"I think Robert showed himself very wise for his own--and Theodora's +interests; and he would refute your moral claim, I assure you, mother, +without one qualm of conscience." + +"Refute me! He might as well try to refute the Bass rock. A mother is +irrefutable, Isabel! But his conduct will necessitate us all using a +deal of diplomacy. You do not require to be told why, or how, at the +present time. I have a forecasting mind, and I can see how things are +going to happen, but just now, we must keep a calm sound in all our +observes, for the man is in the burning fever of an uncontrollable love, +and clean off his reason--on the subject of that Englishwoman, he is mad +entirely." + +"I wonder what Dr. Robertson, and the Kirk, and people in general, will +say?" + +"What they will say to our faces is untelling, Isabel; what they will +say when we are not bodily present, it is easy to surmise. Every one +will consider Robert Campbell totally beyond his senses. He is. That +creature in a place called Kendal, has bewitched him. As you well know, +the prime and notable quality of Robert Campbell was, that he could make +money, and especially save money. He always, in this respect, reminded +me of his grandfather, whom every one called 'Old Economy.' Now, what is +he doing? Squandering money on every hand! Expensive journeys for the +sole end of love-making, expensive presents no doubt, half of Traquair +House redecorated and refurnished, wedding expenses coming on, honeymoon +expenses; goodness only knows what else will be emptying the purse. And +for whom? An Englishwoman, a Methodist, a poor school-teacher. She will +neither be to hold nor to bind in her own expenses; for coming to +Traquair House will be to her like entering a superior state of +existence, and she won't know how to carry herself in it. We may take +that to be a certainty. But I think I can teach her! Yes, I think I can +teach her!" + +"How will you do it, mother?" + +"I cannot exactly specify now. She will give me the points, and +opportunities; and correcting, and advising, come most effectively from +the passing events of daily life. As I said, she will give me plenty of +occasions or I'm no judge of women--especially brides." + +"You might be flustered if you were in a hurry and unprepared, mother, +and miss points of advantage, or get more than you gave, but if you had +a plan thought out----" + +"No, no, Isabel! I have lived long enough to learn the wisdom of +building my wall with the stones I find at the foot of it." + +"Many a sore heart the poor thing will get!" said Christina, with an air +of mock pity. + +"We cannot say too much or go too far, while Robert is as daft in love +as he is at present," continued Mrs. Campbell. "We must be cautious, and +that is the good way--the bit-by-bitness is what tells; now a look, now +a word, now a hint, there a suspicion, there a worriment, there a +hesitation or a doubt. It is the bit-by-bitness tells! This is a +forgetful world, so I mention this fact again. And remember also, that +men are the most uncertain part of creation. I have known Robert +Campbell thirty years and I have just found him out. He is a curious +creature, is Robert. He thinks himself steady as the hills, but in +reality he is just as unstable as water. Good-night, girls! We will go +for our sleep now, though I'm doubting if we get any." + +"Theodora won't keep _me_ awake," said Christina. Isabel did not speak +then, but as they stood a moment at their bedroom doors, she said: +"Mother is not to be trifled with. She is going to make Theodora trouble +enough. I'm telling you." + +"I don't care if she does! Anything for a change. Good-night!" + +"Good-night! I do not expect to sleep." + +"Perfect nonsense! Why should you keep awake for a woman in Kendal? Shut +your eyes and forget her. Or dream that she brings you a husband." + +"I'll do no such thing. That's a likely story!" and the two doors shut +softly to the denial, and Christina's low laugh at it. + +When the three women came down to breakfast in the morning, they found a +dozen men at work dismantling the hall and the rooms on the north side +of the house. The glass cases of insects and butterflies, and the +old-fashioned engravings of Sir Robert Peel, Lord Derby, the Duke of +Wellington, and Queen Victoria's marriage ceremony were just leaving the +house. Mrs. Campbell, walking in her most stately manner, approached the +foreman and began to give him some orders. He listened impatiently a few +moments, and then answered with small courtesy: + +"I have my written directions, ma'am, from the master, and I shall +follow them to the letter. There is no use in you bothering and +interfering," and with the last word on his lips, he turned from her to +address some of his workmen. + +She looked at him in utter amazement and speechless anger; then with an +apparent haughty indifference, turned into the breakfast-room bringing +the word "interfering" with her, and flavoring every remark she made +with it. She was in a white heat of passion, and really felt herself to +have been insulted beyond all pacification. Isabel had been a little in +advance, and had not seen and heard the affront, but she was in thorough +sympathy with her mother. Christina was differently affected. The idea +of a workman telling her mother not to interfere in her own house was so +flagrantly impudent, that it was to Christina flagrantly funny. Every +time Mrs. Campbell imitated the man, she felt that she must give way, +and at length the strain was uncontrollable, and she burst into a +screaming passion of laughter. + +"Forgive me, mother!" she said as soon as speech was possible. "That +man's impertinence to you has made me hysterical, for I never saw you +treated so disrespectfully before. I was very nervous when I rose this +morning." + +"You must conquer such absurd feelings, Christina. Observe your sister +and myself. We should be ashamed to exhibit such a total collapse of +will power." + +"Excuse me, mother. I will go to my room until I feel better." + +"Very well, Christina. You had better take a drink of water. Remember, +you must learn to meet annoyance like a sensible woman." + +"I will, mother." + +But after breakfast when Isabel came to her, she went off into peals of +laughter again, burying her face in the pillows, and only lifting it to +ejaculate: "It was too delicious, Isabel--too deliciously funny for +anything! If you had seen that man stare mother in the face--and tell +her not to interfere! I wondered how he dared, but I admired him for it; +he was a big, handsome fellow. Oh, how I wished I was like him! What +privileges men do have?" + +"Do you mean to call it a privilege to tell mother not to interfere?" + +"Many a time I would like to have done it; yes, many a time. I know it +is wicked, but mother does interfere too much. It is her specialty!" and +Christina appeared ready for another fit of laughter. + +"If you laugh any more, Christina, I shall feel it my duty to throw cold +water in your face. Mother told me to do so." + +"Such advice comes from her interfering temper. That handsome fellow was +right." + +"Behave yourself, Christina. What is the matter with you?" + +"It is the change, Isabel. To see lots of men in the hall, and that +heavy black furniture and the poor beetles and butterflies, and the +great men's pictures going away----" + +"Can't you speak correctly? Are you sick?" + +"I must be!" + +"Go back to bed, and I will get mother to give you a sleeping powder." + +"That will be better than cold water. If you could only have seen +mother's face, Isabel, when that man told her not to interfere. As for +him, he had a wink in his eyes, I know. I hope I shall never see him +again. If I do----" + +"I trust you will behave decently, as Christina Campbell ought to do." + +"If he winks, I shall laugh. I know I shall." + +"Then you ought to be ashamed of yourself!" + +"I am, but what good does that do?" + +"See here, Christina, there are going to be many changes in this house, +and if you intend to meet them with this idiotic laughter, what pleasure +can you expect? Be sensible, Christina." + +Poor Christina! The keenest of all her faculties was her sense of the +ridiculous. On this side of her nature, her intellect could have been +highly developed, but instead it had been ruthlessly depressed and +ignored. The comic page of the newspapers, the only page she cared for, +was generally removed; she could tell a funny story delightfully, but no +one smiled if she did so; she saw the comical attributes of every one, +and everything, but it was a grave misdemeanor to point them out; and +thus snubbed and chided for the one thing she could do, she feared to +attempt others which she knew only in a mediocre manner. + +At the dinner table she was able to take her place in a placid, sensible +mood. She found the family deep in the discussion of an immediate +removal to the seashore. It was at any rate about the usual time of +their summer migration, and Robert was advising his mother to go to the +Isle of Arran. But Mrs. Campbell had resolved to go to Campbelton, where +she had many relations. "We can stay at the _Argyle Arms_," she said, +"and then neither the Lairds nor the Crawfords will have the face to be +dropping in for a few days' change, at my expense." + +Christina looked distressed, and touched Isabel's foot to excite her to +rebellion. "Mother," said Isabel dolorously, "Christina and I hate +Campbelton! It smells of whiskey and fish, and not even the great sea +winds can make the place clean and sweet." + +"It makes me ill," ventured Christina. + +"My family have lived there for generations, Christina, and it never +made them ill. They are, indeed, very robust and healthy." + +"There is nothing to see, mother." + +"I am ashamed of you, Christina. It is a town of the greatest antiquity, +and was, as you ought to know, the capital of the Dalriadan kingdom in +the sixth and seventh century." + +"I know all about its antiquities, mother. I wish I didn't." + +"Christina, what is the matter with you to-day?" + +"I am tired of living, mother." + +"Robert, do you hear your sister?" + +"Why are you tired of living, Christina?" asked Robert, not unkindly. + +"We do not live, brother; that is the reason." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Life is variety. To us every day is the same, except the Sabbath, and +that is the worst day of all. I don't blame you, brother, for a +desperate effort to change your life. If I were a man I should run +away." + +"What do you mean by a desperate effort, Christina?" + +"I mean marriage. Sometimes I feel that I would run away with any man +that would marry me." + +"_Hush!_ Such a feeling is shameful. What do you wish instead of +Campbelton?" + +The courage of the desperate possessed Christina and she answered: "I +should like to travel. I want to see Edinburgh and London and Paris like +other girls whose families have money, and Isabel feels as badly at our +restrictions as I do." + +"What do you say, mother? Will you go with the girls to Edinburgh and +London? Paris is out of the question. I will pay all expenses." + +"I will do nothing of the kind. I am going to Campbelton. I suppose the +girls can go by themselves." + +"You know better, mother." + +"English girls go all over the world by themselves, and some kinds of +Scotch girls are beginning to think mothers an unnecessary institution." + +Robert looked at Isabel, and she said: "We might have a courier. I mean +a lady courier." + +"I will not permit my daughters to go stravaging round the world with +any strange woman. Robert, I think you have behaved most imprudently to +propose any such thing." + +"In _your_ company, mother, was my suggestion. I do think an entire +change of people and surroundings would do both you and my sisters a +great deal of good." + +"Changes are plentiful; too many are now in progress." + +So the subject died in bad temper, and Robert felt his proffered +kindness to have been very ungraciously received. But when he rose from +the table, Christina touched his arm as he passed her chair. "Thank you, +brother," she said. "You wished to give us a little pleasure. It is not +your fault we are deprived of it." + +He saw that her eyes were full of tears, and her weary, plaintive voice +touched his heart, so he turned to his mother and said: + +"Think of what I have proposed. I will not stint you in expenses. Give +the girls and yourself a little pleasure--do." + +"Your own expenses are going to be tremendous, Robert, furnishing, +travelling and what not. I can't conscientiously increase them." + +At these words Christina left the room. Robert did not answer his +mother's remark, but he looked at Isabel, and she understood the look as +entrusting the further prosecution of the subject to her. + +Mrs. Campbell, however, refused to give up Campbelton. "I heard," she +said, "that Mrs. Walter Galbraith was going to France and Italy. +Perhaps she will allow you to travel with her." + +Isabel looked at her mother with something like reproach. "You know +well, mother, that Mrs. Galbraith dresses and travels in the most +extravagant fashion. She would not be seen with two old maids in plain +brown merino suits. We should look like her servants. Even if we got +stylish travelling gowns, we should want dinner dresses, and opera +dresses, and cloaks and changes, and small necessities innumerable. It +would cost a thousand pounds, if not more, to clothe us both for a three +months' travel with Mrs. Galbraith." + +"Then be sensible women and go to Campbelton. You can take your wheels +and on the firm sands of Macrihanish Bay have a five miles' unbroken +spin. There are boating and fishing and very interesting walks." + +"And Christina will find company for her wheel and walks, mother. The +last time we were in Campbelton, the schoolmaster, James Rathey, was +constantly with her. He was in love, and Christina liked him. After we +came home he wrote to her, and I had hard work to prevent her answering +his letters." + +"You ought to have told me this before." + +"I was sorry for her. Poor girl, he was the only lover she ever had!" + +"Such folly! I shall watch the schoolmaster myself this summer. I have +influence enough to get him dismissed. He shall not teach in Campbelton +another year." + +"Oh, mother, how cruel and unjust that would be! I am sorry I told you." +And Isabel felt the case to be hopeless, and did not make another plea. + +She went straight to her sister's room. "Mother is not to be moved, +Christina," she said. "We shall have to go to Campbelton." + +"So be it. Jamie Rathey will be having his vacation now, and he can play +the fiddle and sing '_The Laird o' Cockpen_' worth listening to. He +promised to buy a wheel before I came again, and then we will away to +Macrihanish sands for a race. I won't be cheated out of that pleasure, +Isabel, and you need not say a word about it." + +"You cannot hide it. Every one but mother knew about you and James +Rathey last year, and Aunt Laird would have told mother, but I begged +her not. If you begin that foolishness again, I must attend to the +matter." + +"You mean you will tell mother?" + +"Yes, decidedly." + +"Then you will be an ill-natured sister." + +A little later Mrs. Campbell appeared and told them to pack their +trunks, and lock up the clothing they did not intend to take with them. +"The paperers and painters are coming into the house to-morrow morning," +she said. "We shall take the boat for Campbelton directly after an early +breakfast." + +As neither Isabel nor Christina made any protest, she added: "You may +go at once and buy yourselves a couple of suits, one for church, and a +white one that will be easily laundered. I suppose hats, gloves, shoes, +and some other things will be necessary. You can each of you spend forty +pounds. This is a gift, I shall not take it from your allowance." + +"I cannot see through mother," observed Christina as they were on their +shopping expedition. + +"Can you see through anything, Christina? I cannot." + +"She had a great fit of the liberalities this morning. What for?" + +"She was buying us. One way or another, she has us all under her feet." + +"Poor Theodora!" + +"Keep your pity for poor Christina. If Theodora has been a +schoolmistress she knows fine how to hold her own." + +"With schoolgirls--perhaps. Mother is different." + +"The difference is not worth counting. Women, old and young, are very +much alike." + +"Do you believe the paperers and painters begin work to-morrow?" + +"Mother said so. It is one of her virtues to tell the truth. You know +how often she declares she would not lie even to the devil." + +"Yes--but was that the truth?" + +"It is not right to criticise and question what your mother says, +Christina." + +In the morning the arrival of a number of men with pails, and brushes, +and paint-pots, justified Mrs. Campbell's assertion, and the three women +were glad to escape the dirt, noise, and confusion in Traquair House, +even for the _Argyle Arms_ in Campbelton. Robert went with them to the +boat, and Isabel's pathetic acceptance of what she disliked, and the +tears in Christina's eyes made him a little unhappy. He slipped some +gold into their hands, as he bid them good-bye, and their silent looks +of pleasure at his remembrance, soothed the uncertain sense of some +unkindness or unfairness which had troubled him since Christina's +rebellious outbreak. He was glad he had gone with them to the boat, and +glad that he had given them a parting token of his brotherly care, and +he felt that he could now turn cheerfully to his own pressing but +delightful affairs. + +He was singularly happy in them, and really glad to be rid of all advice +and interference. Men who had known him for many years, wondered at his +boyish joyfulness. He was a different Robert Campbell, but then it was +generally known he was in love, and all the world loves a lover. No one +was cruel or malicious enough to warn, or advise, or shadow the glory of +his expectations by any doubt of their full accomplishment. The +initiated gossiped among themselves, and some said: "Campbell is a fool +to be making such a fuss about any woman;" and others spoke of Mrs. +Traquair Campbell, and "wondered how the English girl would manage her." + +"The poor lassie will be at her mercy," said one old man. + +"She will," answered his companion, "for the Traquair Campbells' ways +will be dark to a stranger. It takes a Scotchwoman to match a +Scotchwoman." + +"Yet I have heard that the old lady is a wonder o' good sense and +prudence. Her husband was a useless body, but she managed him fine, and +was one o' those women that are a crown to their husbands." + +The first speaker laughed peculiarly. "Man, David!" he said, "little you +ken, if you take King Solomon's ideas of a comfortable wife to live wi'. +The women who are a crown to a poor man are generally a crown o' thorns, +I'm thinking." + +But no doubts or fears troubled Robert Campbell. He thought only of his +marvellous fortune in winning a woman so lovely and so good. He was not +unmindful of either her intellect or her education, but he did not talk +of these excellencies, even to his chief friend Archie St. Claire. He +had a feeling that intellect and learning were masculine attributes, and +he preferred to dwell entirely on the sweet feminine virtues of his +beloved. But this, or that, there was no other woman in the world but +Theodora to Robert Campbell, for lovers are selfish creatures, and Lord +Beaconsfield says truly: "To a man in love, all other women are +uninteresting, if not repulsive." + +So the days and the weeks went happily past, in preparing a home for +Theodora. He went over and over very frequently the last few words--"a +home for Theodora!" and they sung, and swung, and shone in his heart, +and made his life a fairy story. "I never knew what it was to be happy +before," he said repeatedly; and it was the truth, for up to this time +he had never felt the joy of that mystical blending of two souls, when +self is lost and found again in the being of another. + +Twice he took a trip to Campbelton, and found all to his satisfaction. +His mother was surrounded by her kindred, a situation a Scotch man or +woman tolerates with an equanimity that is astonishing; and Isabel and +Christina wore their usual air of placid indifference to everything. +They were all desirous to know what had been done in the house, but he +refused to enter into explanations. "It is ill praising or banning +half-done work," he said in excuse, "but I promise on my next visit to +take you home with me, and then you will see the work finished." + +"And then you will go and get married?" asked Christina, and he answered +with a smile, "Then I shall go and get married." + +"When you bring Theodora home she will give us a little pleasure, I +hope." + +"I am sure she will. Theodora is fond of company and entertainments, and +she will wish you to share them with us, and that will add to my +pleasure also." + +"We shall see." + +"Do you doubt what I say?" + +"My dreams never come true, Robert." + +"Theodora will make them come true." + +Then Christina laughed a little, and Isabel looked at her mother's dour, +scornful face and copied it. + +Robert noticed the expression, and he asked pleasantly: "What kind of +summer have you had, Isabel?" + +"Exactly the summer we expected. Sometimes the minister called, and +talked in an exciting manner about Calvinism, and the smallpox; and we +have been surrounded by a crowd of relatives. Mother has enjoyed them +very much; she had not seen some of her fourth and fifth cousins for +nearly seven years; they had increased in number considerably during +that interval, and their names, and dispositions, the sicknesses they +had been through, the various talents they showed, have all been to talk +over a great many times. Oh, mother has enjoyed it much! It makes no +matter about Christina and myself." + +"It does make matter, Isabel. This coming winter I intend to see you go +out as much as you desire." + +"Thank you, brother. Christina will enjoy the opportunities. I have +outlived the desire for amusements. I would rather travel, and see +places and famous things. People no longer interest me." + +"I think with a little inquiry that can be managed. I am so happy, +Isabel, I wish every one else to be happy." + +She looked at her brother wonderingly, and at night as the sisters sat +doing their hair in Christina's room she said: "Love must be an amazing +thing, Christina, to change any one the way it has changed Robert +Campbell. The man has been in a sense converted--he has found grace, +whether it be the grace of God, or the grace of Love, I know not, no, +nor anybody else just yet." + +"St. John says, 'God is love.' I have often wondered about those words." + +"Then keep your wonder. If you ask for explanations about things, all +the wonder and the beauty goes out of them. When I was at school, and +had to pull a rose to pieces and write down all the Latin names of its +structure, its beauty was gone. The rose was explained to us, but it +wasn't a rose any longer. God is Love. We will thank St. John for +telling us that beautiful truth, but we will not ask for explanations. +Maybe you may find out some day all that Love means. You are not too +old, and would be handsome if you were dressed becomingly, and were +happy." + +"Happy?" + +"Yes. Happiness makes people beautiful. Look at Robert. He was rather +good-looking before he was in love, he is now a very handsome man. +Theodora has worked wonders in his appearance." + +"He takes more pains with his dress." + +"That helps, of course." + +"My hair is very good yet, Isabel." + +"You have splendid hair, and fine eyes. Properly dressed you would not +look over twenty-two years old." + +"You think so, because you love me a little." + +"I love you better than I love anything else. We have suffered a great +deal together. I do not mean afflictions and big troubles, but a +lifelong, never-lifted repression and depression, and a perfect +starvation of heart and soul." + +"Not soul, Isabel. We could always go to the Kirk, and we had our Bible +and good books, and the like." + +"It was all dead comfort. There was no life, no love in it." + +"Maybe it was our fault, perhaps we ought to have stood up for our +rights. Girls have begun to do so now." + +"We may be to blame, who knows? Good-night." + +Three weeks after this conversation, Robert came to Campbelton for his +mother and sisters. He was in the same glad mood, and what was still +more remarkable, patient and cheerful with all the small worries and +explanations and contradictory directions of Mrs. Campbell. She was +carrying back to Glasgow two Skye terriers, a tortoise-shell cat, +presents of kippered herring and cheeses, and, above all, a tiny +marmoset monkey given her by a third cousin, who was master of a sailing +vessel trading to South American ports. She was immoderately fond and +proud of this gift, and no one but Robert was allowed to carry the +basket in which it was cradled in soft wool. + +But encumbered on every hand and charged continually about this, that, +and the other, Robert kept his temper better than his sisters; and at +length, with the help of two or three vehicles, brought all safely to +Traquair House. Now, if Mrs. Campbell had thus loaded and impeded +herself and her whole family for the very purpose of making their entry +into the renovated home a scene of confusion, in which it was impossible +to observe things, she could not have succeeded better. Christina, +indeed, uttered an exclamation of delight, but the great interest of all +parties was to get rid of their various impediments. Each of the girls +had a Skye terrier, Mrs. Campbell had the cat, Robert the marmoset, and +there were bundles, bonnet boxes, parcels, umbrellas, parasols, rugs, +etc., all to be carried in, counted, and checked off Mrs. Campbell's +list of her belongings. + +But in an hour the confusion had settled, and by the time the travellers +had removed their hats and wraps and washed and dressed, a good dinner +was on the table. It put every one in a more agreeable temper, and when +they had eaten it, there was still light enough to examine the changes +that had been made. Mrs. Campbell declared she was tired, but she could +not resist the offer of Robert's arm and the way in which he said: +"Come, mother, I shall not be happy without your approval; I never knew +you to be tired with any day's work, no matter how it might tire +others." + +The compliment won her. She rose instantly, and leaning on her son's arm +passed into the hall. It had been dark and gloomy, though fairly +handsome. It was now finished in the palest shades, was light and airy +and looked much larger. Where the cases of impaled beetles and crucified +butterflies had stood, there were pots of ferns and flowers, and the +special furniture necessary was of light woods and modern designs. All +the rooms leading from this hall were richly and elegantly furnished; +the same idea of lightness and gracefulness being admirably carried out. +Nothing had been forgotten, even the most trivial toilet articles were +present in their most beautiful form. Isabel lifted some of these, and +asked: "How did you know about such things, Robert?" + +"I did not know, Isabel," he answered, "but I went to a place where such +things are sold, and told them to fit a lady's toilet perfectly, with +all that ladies use and desire. Theodora may not like the perfumes; +indeed, I do not think she uses perfume of any kind, but they can be +sent back, or changed." + +"Well, Robert," said Mrs. Campbell, when all apartments had been +examined, "these rooms are fit for a queen, and many a poor queen never +had anything half so splendid and comfortable. Theodora will be +confounded by their richness and beauty. I should say she never saw +anything like them." + +"Indeed, you are mistaken, mother. I met her first at John Priestley's, +Member of Parliament for Sheffield, where she was the guest of his +daughter, and in their mansion the rooms are much handsomer than +anything we have here. Theodora has been a guest in some of the finest +manor houses in England. These rooms are quite modest compared with some +she has occupied." + +"I think, then, she will be too fine for this family. But Robert, I can +not, and I will not, change my ways at my time of life. I may be plain +and common--perhaps--I may be vulgar in Theodora's eyes, but----" + +"My dear mother, you are all a woman and a mother should be. You +represent the finest ladies of your generation. Theodora is the fruit +and flower of a later one, different, but no better than your own. You +are everything I want. I would not have you changed in any respect." He +looked into her face with eyes full of love, and gently pressed her arm +against his side. + +Such appreciative words as these were most unusual, and Mrs. Campbell +felt them thrill her heart with pleasure. She even half-resolved to try +to like Robert's wife, and spoke enthusiastically about the taste her +son had displayed. In the morning she was still more delighted, for then +she discovered that her own drawing-room had been redecorated, a new +light carpet laid, and many beautiful pieces of furniture added to +brighten its usual gloom. Nor had Isabel's and Christina's rooms been +forgotten; in many ways they had been beautified, and only the family +dining-room had been left in the gloom of its dark, though handsome +furniture. But Robert hoped by the following summer his mother would be +willing to have it totally changed, for he remembered hearing Theodora +say that the room in which people eat ought to be, above all other rooms +in the house, bright, and light, and cheerful. Indeed, she thought it a +matter of well-being to eat under the happiest circumstances possible. + +In the height of the women's delight and gratitude, Robert set off on +his wedding journey. His joy infected the whole house. Even the cross +McNab and the mournful Jepson were heard laughing, and Christina spoke +of this as among the wonderfuls of her existence. Perhaps the one most +pleased was Mrs. Campbell. She had been surrounded by the same +depressing furniture and upholstery for thirty-seven years, and she had +almost a childish pleasure in the new white lace curtains which had been +hung in her rooms. They gave her a sense of youth, of something +unusually happy and hopeful. Many times in a day, she went, unknown to +any one, into the drawing-room and took the fine lace drapery in her +fingers, to examine and admire its beauty. The girls also were more +cheerful. Indeed, the tone of the house had been uplifted and changed, +and all through the influence of more light, some graceful modern +furniture, and a little--alas, that it was so little!--good will and +gratitude. + +On the fifth of October Robert Campbell was married, and about a week +afterwards, Archie St. Claire called one evening upon his family. + +"I have just returned from Kendal," he said, "and I thought you would +like to hear about the wedding. You were none of you there." + +"We had satisfactory reasons for not going," answered Mrs. Campbell. + +"I was Robert's best man." + +"I supposed so. Robert said very little about his arrangements. What do +you think of the bride?" + +"She is a most beautiful woman, fine-natured and sweet-tempered, and +loved by all who come near her. Robert has found a jewel." + +"How was she dressed?" asked Isabel. + +"Perfectly. White satin and lace, of course, but what I liked was the +simplicity of the gown. I heard some one call it a Princess shape. It +fit her beautiful form without a crease, and fell in long soft folds to +her white shoes." + +"White shoes? Nonsense!" ejaculated Mrs. Campbell. + +"White shoes with diamond buckles." + +"Paste buckles more likely." + +"They looked like diamonds. Her veil fell backward and touched the +bottom of her dress." + +"Backward! Then of what use was it? I thought brides wore a veil to +cover their faces." + +"It would have been a sin and a shame to have covered her face. She +looked like an angel. She wore no jewels, and she carried instead of +flowers a small Bible bound in purple velvet and gold." + +"Were there many present?" + +"The streets were crowded, and the church was crowded. The Blue Coat +Boys--a large old school in Kendal--scattered flowers before her as she +walked from the church gates to the altar; and the old rector who had +married her father and mother was quite affected by the ceremony. He +kissed and blessed her at the altar-rail, after it was over." + +"Kissed Robert Campbell's bride. Surely you are joking, Mr. St. +Claire." + +"No, it is a common thing in English churches after the bridal ceremony +if the minister is a friend. It was a solemn and affecting sight." + +"Then her father did not marry her?" + +"He gave her away. He could not have performed the ceremony in the +parish church." + +"Do you mean that she was not married in her father's church?" + +"She was married in the parish church, one of the most beautiful places +of worship I was ever in--a grand old edifice." + +"Do you mean that my son was married in an Episcopal church, at the very +horns of an Episcopal altar?" asked Mrs. Campbell indignantly. + +"It was the most beautiful marriage service I ever saw. And the sweet +old bells chimed so joyously, I can never forget them." + +"Was there a wedding breakfast?" asked Isabel. + +"About twenty guests sat down to a very prettily decorated breakfast +table, and after the meal, Robert and his bride began their journey +through life together. I have brought you some bride cake," and he took +from a box in his hand three smaller white boxes, tied with white +ribbon, and presented them. Mrs. Campbell laid hers unopened on the +table without a word of thanks or courtesy, and Isabel and Christina +followed her example. + +"There was a crowd at the railway station," continued Mr. St. Claire, +"and the Blue Coat Boys met the bride singing a wedding-hymn. Robert +gave them a noble check for their school." + +"I'll warrant he did. The more fool he!" + +"And the last thing they heard as they left Kendal must have been the +church bells chiming joyfully--'_Hail, Happy Morn_'!" + +"Do you know where they went? Robert was not sure when he left +Scotland." + +"I think I do, Mrs. Campbell. They had intended going through the Fife +towns, and by old St. Andrews to Wick, and so to the Orkneys and +Shetlands. But it was late in the season for this trip, so they went to +Paris and the Mediterranean. I think they were right." + +"Paris, of course. All the fools go there!" + +"Well, Mrs. Campbell, Scotland is a bleak place for a honeymoon." + +"Mr. St. Claire, if it does for a man's home, it may do to honeymoon in. +That is my opinion." + +"I don't agree with you, Mrs. Campbell. A honeymoon is a sort of +transcendental existence, and a man naturally wants to spend it as +nearly in Paradise as possible. There's no place like the Mediterranean +for sunshine, and it is poetical and picturesque, and just the place for +lovers." + +Failing, with all his willing good nature, to rouse any apparent +interest in a subject he considered highly interesting, he felt a little +offended, and rose to depart. But ere he reached the parlor door he +turned and said: "I had nearly forgotten one very remarkable thing about +the bride." + +"Let us hear it, by all means," said Mrs. Campbell. + +"I stayed a few days after the marriage, in order to visit Windermere +and Keswick Lake with Mr. Newton--by-the-by, wonderfully beautiful +spots, nothing like them in Scotland--and one day while waiting in his +study, I picked up a book. Imagine my astonishment, when I saw it had +been written by the bride." + +At this information Mrs. Campbell threw up her hands with a laugh that +terminated in something like a shriek. Isabel laid her hand on her +mother's arm, and asked: "Are you ill, mother?" + +"No," she answered promptly. "I am only like Mr. St. Claire, astonished. +I need not have been. Every girl scribbles a little now. Poetry, of +course." + +"You mean Mrs. Campbell's book?" + +"Yes." + +"On the contrary, it was a most learned and interesting study of ancient +and sacred geography." + +"A schoolbook!" and the words were scoffed out with utter contempt. + +"Then a most fascinating one. It gave the Latin and Saxon names of our +own old cities, and all the historical and biographical incidents +connected with them. It treated the names in the Bible and ancient +history in the same way. The preacher was very modest about it, but said +it was now in all the best schools, and that his daughter had quite a +good income from the royalty on its sale. And he added: 'Since you have +discovered her secret, I may tell you that she has written two novels, +and a volume of----'" + +"Plays, I dare say." + +"No, ma'am, of Social Essays." + +"Really, Mr. St. Claire, we can stand no more revelations concerning the +bride's perfections! Robert Campbell is only a master of iron workers +and coal miners, and I fear he will feel painfully his inferiority to +such a marvellously beautiful and intellectual woman. As for myself, and +my poor girls, I can only say--grant us patience!" + +St. Claire bowed, and made a hurried exit. "Ill-natured and envious +creatures as ever I met," he mused. "I'm sorry for Mrs. Robert! She will +have troubles great and small with those women under her roof, and I +wonder if Robert will have the gumption to stand by her. He was always +extraordinarily afraid of his mother. I should be afraid of her myself. +I am thankful my mother isn't the least like her! My mother is made of +love and sweet-temper, and she is more of a lady in her winsey skirt and +linen short gown than Mrs. Traquair Campbell is in all her silk and lace +and jewelry. Thank God for His mercies! The Book says a good wife is +from the Lord. I know, by personal experience, that a good mother is +even more so. I'll just write mother a letter this very night, and tell +her all about the wedding. She will enjoy every word of it, and at the +end say: 'God bless the young things! With His blessing they'll do weel +enough, whatever comes.'" + +There was no blessing in Mrs. Campbell's heart. She looked at her girls +in silence until she heard the closing of the front door, then she +asked: "What do you say to Mr. St. Claire's story?" and Isabel answered: +"I say what you said, mother--grant us patience!" + +"Tut, Isabel! Patience? Nonsense! I think little of that grace. Theodora +may be a beauty, a school-teacher, and an authoress, but we three women +can match her." + +"Whatever made Robert marry her?" + +"That is past speculating about! But she is the man's choice--such as it +is. Doubtless he thinks her without a fault, but, as I told you before, +the bit-by-bitness can soon change that opinion--a little mustard seed +of suspicion or difference of any kind, can grow to a great tree. I'm +telling you! Do not forget what I say. I am just distracted as yet with +the situation. This world is a hard place." + +"I think so too, mother," said Christina, "and it is small comfort to be +told the next is probably worse." + +"I have had lots of trouble in my life, girls, but the worst of all +comes with what your father called 'the lad and lass business.' It was +that drove your brother David beyond seas, and I have not heard a word +from him since he went away one day in a passion. But this or that, mind +you, I have always come out of every tribulation victorious--and there +is now three of us--we shall be hard enough to beat." + +"Theodora has a good many points in her favor," said Christina. + +"Count them up, then; count them up! She is a beauty, a genius, an +Englishwoman, a Methodist, a teacher of women, a writer of books, and no +doubt she will try to set up the golden image of her manifold +perfections in Traquair House--but which of us three will bow down +before it? Tell me! Tell me that, Christina!" + +"Not I, mother." + +"Nor I," added Isabel. + +"Nor I, you may take an oath on that," said Mrs. Campbell. "And what +says the Good Book, 'a threefold cord is not easily broken?' Now you may +give me Dr. Chalmer's last sermons, and I'll take a few words from him +to settle my mind and put me to sleep; for I am fairly distracted with +the prospect of such a monumental woman among us. But I'll say nothing +about her, one way or the other, and then I cannot be blamed. I would +advise you both to be equally prudent." + +But Isabel and Christina were not of their mother's mind. Such a +delightful bit of gossip had never before come into their lives, and +they went to Isabel's room to talk it all over again, for Isabel being +the eldest had the largest and the best furnished room. Isabel made a +social event of it, by placing a little table between them, set with the +special dainties she kept for her private refreshment. And they felt it +to be a friendly and cheerful thing, to have this special woman to +season the rich cates and fruit provided. So it had struck twelve before +Christina rose and remarked: + +"You told me, Isabel, there were going to be changes, and you are right. +The next one will be the home-coming, and I dare say Robert will descend +on us in the most unexpected time and way." + +"You are much mistaken, Christina. I am sure Robert will be telegraphing +Jepson from every station on the road. The most trivial things will be +directed by him. Let us go to bed now; I am sleepy." + +"So am I. Thank you for the good things. They sweetened a disagreeable +subject." + +"Perhaps she may be better than we expect. One can never tell what the +unknown may turn out to be. Mother is inclined to be suspicious of all +strangers," said Isabel. + +"If mother's eyes were out, she would see faults in any one." + +"Perhaps, if they were coming into Traquair House. She does not trouble +herself about people who leave the Campbells alone." + +"She spoke of poor brother David to-night. Did you notice it?" + +"Yes." + +"It was the first time I have heard her mention him since he left us." + +"She has spoken of him to me, three or four times--a word or two--no +more." + +"Do you know where he is?" + +"No." + +"Does mother know?" + +"No." + +"Does any one know?" + +"No. Mother is sure he is dead. I think so myself. He would have written +to Robert if he was alive. He was gey fond of Robert." + +"I was at school when he went away. I never heard why he went, for when +I came home I was forbidden to name him. Did he do anything wrong?" + +"No, no! You must not suppose such a thing. He was the most loving and +honorable of men." + +"Then why did he go away? Do you know?" + +"Yes, I know all about it." + +"Tell me, Isabel. I will never name the subject again. What did he do?" + +"Just what Robert has done--married a girl not wanted in the family." + +"Who was the girl? Why was she not wanted?" + +"Her name was Agnes Symington. She was a minister's daughter." + +"Was she pretty?" + +"Very pretty, and good and sweet as a woman could be." + +"Pretty, and good, and sweet, and a minister's daughter! What more did +mother want?" + +"Money." + +"Was she poor?" + +"Yes. Her father was dead, and she had learned dressmaking to support +her mother and herself. She came to make our winter dresses, and David +saw her and loved her. Though she was a minister's daughter, mother had +always sent her to the servants' table, and she was nearly mad to +think David had married a girl from the servants' table. It was +disgraceful--in a way. The servants talked, and so did every one that +knew us. But David loved her, and when he went he took both Agnes and +her mother with him." + +"What did father say?" + +"He took David's part. He took it angrily. He amazed us. He sold David's +share in the works for him, and so let strangers into the company, and +he sent him away with his blessing, and plenty of money. David was +crying when he bid father good-bye; and father was never the same after +David left. We always believed that father knew where he went, and that +he heard from him, through Mr. Oliphant or Dr. Robertson. But mother +could get no words from him about David, except 'The boy did right. God +pity the man whose wife is chosen for him!' I think father had to marry +mother to save the works. I think so; I was not told it as a fact. Do +not breathe a word of what I have told you. It is a dead story. David +and father are both gone, and I dare say David's wife is married again." + +"Thank you for telling me the story, Isabel. I will keep your +confidence. Do not doubt it. I do not blame David. I think he did right. +I wish I could do the same thing. I----" + +"Good-night!" + +"I would run away to-morrow." + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE BRIDE'S HOME-COMING + + +Robert Campbell's home-coming was after the fashion Isabel had supposed +it would be. On the eighth of November, Jepson received a telegram from +him before nine in the morning, ordering fires to be kept burning +brightly all day in his rooms. At eleven there was another telegram, +directing Jepson to have the ferns and plants in the hall renewed, and +flowers in vases put in the parlor and Mrs. Campbell's dressing-room. At +two o'clock Jepson's message contained the information that Mr. and Mrs. +Campbell would be at the Caledonian Railway Station at half-past three +o'clock, and they would expect the carriage there for them. + +So when Theodora arrived at Traquair House, she was met by Jepson with +obsequious attentions, the door was wide open to receive her, and the +rooms were shining and glowing with light and warmth and beauty. Thus +far, all her expectations were realized, but she missed the human +welcome which ought to have vitalized its material symbols. Robert was +evidently annoyed at the absence of his mother and sisters, and he asked +sharply after them. + +"They went to their rooms after lunch, sir, before I had time to inform +them of the train you specified," Jepson answered. + +Campbell seemed glad of so reasonable an excuse, and, turning to +Theodora, said: "You must have a cup of tea, dear, and then rest for a +couple of hours. I dare say we shall see no one before dinner. I suppose +dinner is at seven, Jepson?" + +"Yes, sir. Seven o'clock exactly, sir." + +After her cup of tea Theodora went through their rooms with her husband +and was charmed with everything that had been done for her comfort. +"Robert," she said, "there is nothing wanting in these rooms. Everything +I could desire is here, except the smile and the kind words of welcome +to them from your family." + +"Those will come later, my sweet Dora. The Scotch are slow and +undemonstrative. My mother and sisters always retire to their rooms +after lunch, and it is extremely difficult for them to break a habit. +That is their way." + +"If habits are kind and good, it is a very good way--in its way. But do +you not think, Robert, that a little spontaneity is sometimes a +refreshing and comforting thing?" + +"It may be, but our temperaments are not spontaneous. Now, try and sleep +before you dress. I will come for you at two minutes before seven. Be +sure you are ready! Mother waits for no one, not even myself." + +But in spite of all the thoughtful care which her husband had taken for +her comfort, Theodora was invaded by a feeling of melancholy. Her heart +sank fathoms deep, and she could not follow his advice to sleep. She +felt chilled and depressed by the atmosphere she was breathing--an +atmosphere impregnated with the personalities of people inimical to her. +Being conscious of this hostility, she began to reason about it, a thing +in itself unwise; for happiness should never be analyzed. + +Very soon she became aware of the futility of her thoughts. "They lead +me to no certain end, for I am reasoning from premises unknown to me," +she said to herself. "I have heard of these three women, but I have not +seen them. I will wait until we look at each other face to face." + +Then she called her maid, a fresh, honest-hearted girl from the +Westmoreland fells, whom she had hired in Kendal. "Ducie," she said, +"have you been in the kitchen yet?" + +"Oh yes, ma'am. They are a queer lot there. Only one old man had a good +word for any of the family. They were asking me if you knew that the +Crawfords of Campbelton had been occupying your rooms for two weeks. +'Plenty of hurrying and scurrying,' they said, 'to get them away and put +the rooms in order, and the old lady beside herself with anger, at Mr. +Campbell not giving a longer notice of his coming.'" + +"Mr. Campbell gave plenty of time, if the rooms had not been occupied." + +"And, if you please, ma'am, the trunks sent here from Kendal just after +your marriage have all been opened, and I may say, ma'am--ransacked. +Every thing in them is pell-mell, and the dresses not folded straight, +and the neckwear and such like, topsy-turvy. And, ma'am, your beautiful +ermine furs have been worn, for they are soiled; other things look +likewise. I don't know what to make of such ways, I'm sure." + +To this information Theodora listened in dismay and anger. It seemed to +her such an incredible outrage on decency, honor, and even honesty. She +rose instantly and went to look at her trunks. Ducie had made a very +moderate complaint. It was only necessary to lift the lids to convince +herself that the accusation was a just one. For a moment or two she +stood looking at the disarranged garments; her face flushed, she locked +her fingers together, and was speechless. Then she sat down to consider +the circumstance, and her lovely face had on it an expression +half-pleading and half-defiant. It was the face of a woman you could +hurt, but could not move. + +In half-an-hour she called Ducie. "Do not touch the four trunks that +were sent here from Kendal," she said. "Open the one we had with us, and +take from it my steel-blue silk costume, and my set of pearls." + +"Will you wear the silk waist, ma'am?" + +"No, the lace waist of the same color. And, Ducie, keep silence +concerning all you see and hear in these rooms. I know you will do so, +but it does no harm to remind you, for you are not used to living among +a crowd of servants, and might fall into some trap set for you. Just +remember, Ducie, that every word you say will likely be repeated, for +we are in a strange country and in a way among strangers." + +"I know, ma'am. New relations are not like old ones. The old ones feel +comfortable like old clothes; the new ones, like new clothes, need a +deal of taking in and letting out to make them fit." + +"That is so, Ducie. I am a little annoyed about the open trunks, +but--but, I must dress now, or I will be late." + +"I wouldn't be annoyed, ma'am, for brooding over annoyances just hatches +more; and I will have little to say to any one. You may trust me. I will +be as good as my word." + +Theodora dressed carefully, and when Robert came for her he was charmed +with the quiet beauty of her costume. "It is just right, Dora," he said, +"perhaps the pearls are a little too much." + +"Oh no, Robert. The dress requires them. They are like moonlight on it, +and make each other lovelier." + +"Come, then, we have not a moment to lose. It will strike seven +immediately." + +They entered the dining-room as it struck the hour. Mrs. Traquair +Campbell had taken her seat at the foot of the table, and Robert with +his bride on his arm walked to her side and said: + +"Mother, this is Theodora. I hope you will give her your love and +welcome." + +Mrs. Campbell did not rise, but, looking into Theodora's face, asked: +"Had you a pleasant journey? Are you tired? Railroads are fatiguing +kind of travel." + +That was all. She did not say one kind word of welcome, nor did she +offer her hand. In fact, she had lifted the carving knife as they +entered the room, and she kept it in her grasp. Then Robert took her to +his sisters, and as Isabel sat on one side of the table, and Christina +on the other, the introduction had to be made three times. In each case +it was about the same, for the girls copied both their mother's attitude +and her words. + +But all were frank and friendly with Robert, asking him many questions +about the places they had visited, and as he invariably referred some +part of these queries to Theodora, she was drawn unavoidably into the +conversation. Very soon the desire to conquer these women by the force +and magnetism of love came into her heart, and she smiled into their +dark, cold faces, and discoursed with such charming grace and social +sympathy, that the frost presently began to thaw, and Isabel found +herself asking the unwelcome bride all kinds of questions about their +travel, and saying at last with a sigh: "How much I should have liked to +have been with you!" + +"I am sorry you were not with us," answered Theodora, "but we shall go +again to the Mediterranean--for we only got glimpses of places and +things, and must know them better. We shall go again, shall we not, +Robert?" + +Then Robert denied all his promises and said: "I fear not, for a long +time. Business must be attended to." + +"I am glad you are regaining your senses, Robert," said his mother. +"Your business has been dreadfully neglected for more than half-a-year." + +"It has taken no harm, mother, and I shall double my attention now." + +"I hope you will--but I doubt it." + +"Dora," said Christina, "may I call you Dora?" + +"Dora, certainly," interrupted Mrs. Traquair Campbell. "Theodora is too +long a name for conversation. Do you wish any more ice? Do you, Isabel?" + +Theodora was confounded by such rude and positive ignoring. The question +had been addressed to her, and referred to her Christian name--the most +personal of all belongings. Yet it had been peremptorily decided for her +without any regard to her right or wish. Her cheeks flushed hotly, and +she looked at her husband. Surely he would spare her the distressing +position of denying her mother-in-law's decision, or affirming her own. +But Robert Campbell was as one that heard not. His eyes were upon his +plate, and he was embarrassed even in the simple act of eating. At that +moment she had almost a contempt for him. But seeing that he did not +intend to interfere, she smiled at Christina, and said: + +"You will call me Dora, I suppose, as you are bid to do so, and when I +feel like it, I shall answer to that name. When I do not feel disposed +to answer to Dora, I shall be silent. That is, you know, my privilege." +She spoke with a smile and charming manner, and then, looking at her +husband, rose from the table. Robert sauntered after her, making some +remark about tea to his mother as he passed her. + +She could not answer him. This leave-taking, unauthorized by her +example, stupefied the elder woman. "Do you see, Isabel," she cried, +"what I shall have to endure?" + +"Dinner was really finished, mother." + +"That makes no difference! No one has a right to leave the table until I +rise. I consider Dora's behavior a piece of impertinence." + +"I do not think she intended it to be impertinent." + +"Her intention makes no difference. No one has a right to leave my table +until I set the example. And if Dora's behavior was not impertinent, +then it was stupid ignorance, and I shall instruct her in the decencies +of respectable life. And I tell you both to remember that her name is +Dora. I will have no Theodoras here. Fancy people going about the house +calling 'The-o-do-ra.' Ridiculous!" + +"Well, mother, I ask leave to say that I should not like any one without +my permission to call me Bell, nor do I believe Christina would care to +be called Kirsty. And I really think Robert's wife wished to be +agreeable, and even friendly, if we had encouraged her. Why not give her +a fair trial? I think she could teach Christina and myself many +things." + +"I think you are bewitched as well as your brother. I never knew you, +Isabel, to make any exceptions to my opinions--or to see me insulted +without feeling a proper indignation with me." + +"Oh, dear mother, you are mistaken! The day will never come when your +daughter Isabel will not stand shoulder to shoulder with you." + +"I am sure of that. I wish Christina had not asked such an obtrusive +question. I had to answer it as I did, in order to show that woman that +we--in our own home here--would call her just what we preferred to call +her, without let or hindrance; yet I wish that Christina had kept her +foolish question for a little longer. I was hardly ready for active +opposition. It is premature. Christina always interferes at the wrong +moment." So Christina, snubbed and blamed for her malapropos question, +subsided into sullen indifference externally, while inwardly passing on +the blame for her correction to Theodora, who, she decided, was going to +be unlucky to her. + +In the meantime Robert had walked with his wife to the parlor door of +their own apartments, but he did not enter with her. "I am going to +leave you half-an-hour, Dora," he said. "I wish to smoke a cigar in the +library." + +"I should like to go with you, Robert, as I have always done. I enjoy +good tobacco." + +"Walking on some lovely balcony, overlooking the Mediterranean, it was +pleasant; but here it is not the thing. If you went with me, I might +have the whole family, as the library, like the dining-room, is common +ground. Circumstances alter cases, Dora. You know that, my dear! I will +return in half-an-hour." + +She had a slight struggle with herself to answer pleasantly, but that +free and loving thing, the human soul, was in Theodora's case under kind +but positive control, so she replied with a smile: + +"As you wish, dear Robert--yet I shall miss you." + +She was alone in her splendid rooms, and her heart fell. The day had +been a hard one. From the moment they left Kendal, Robert had been +disagreeably silent. He knew that he was going home to a struggle with +his family, and he dreaded the experience. Had it been a struggle with +business difficulties he would have risen bravely to its demands. A +dispute with women irritated him. In his thoughts he called it +"trivial." But had he known all that such a dispute generally involves, +he would have sought out for it the most portentous and distracting word +in all the languages of earth. + +So Theodora left to herself sat down with a sinking heart. The change in +her husband's temper troubled her; the total absence of all human +welcome to her new home troubled her still more. The occupation of her +rooms by strangers, the rifling of her trunks, the half-quarrelsome +dinner, the despotic changing of her name might be--as compared with +death, accident, or ruin--"trivial" troubles, but she was poignantly +wounded in her feelings by them. And their crowning grief was one she +hardly dared to remember--her husband's failure to defend the name he +had so often passionately sworn he loved better than all other names. +True, she had permitted him to call her Dora, but that was a secret, +sacred, pet name, to be used between themselves, and by that very +understanding denied to all others. + +She could not but admit to herself that she was bitterly disappointed in +her home-coming. She had thought Robert's mother and sisters would meet +her on the threshold with kisses and words of welcome. She had yet to +learn the paucity of kisses and tender words in a Scotch household. The +fact is general, but the causes for this familiar repression are +various, and may be either good or evil. Theodora felt them in her case +to be altogether unkind. What could she do about it? There was the +perilous luxury of complaint to her husband and there was her father's +lifelong advice: "Shut up a trouble in your heart, and you will soon +sing over it." Which course should she take? She was waiting for a true +instinct, a clear, lawful perception, when Robert entered the room. + +She looked up with a smile that brought him swiftly to her side, and +when he spoke kindly, all her fearing discontent slipped away. Very soon +their conversation turned naturally to their apartments. Robert was +proud of them, not so much for the money lavished on their adornment, as +for the taste he thought himself to have shown. Going here and there in +them, he happened to find, on a beautiful cabinet, an old curl paper +and a couple of bent hairpins. + +"Look here, Dora," he said, and his voice was so full of displeasure, +that she rose hastily and went to him. + +"What kind of maid have you hired? She ought to know better than to +leave these things in your parlor." + +"And you ought to know better, Robert," was the indignant answer, "than +to suppose these things belong to me. Do I ever put my hair in newspaper +twists? Do I ever fasten it with dirty, rusty, wire pins like these?" + +"Then tell Ducie to keep her pins and curl papers in her own room." + +"They are not Ducie's. She would not put such dreadful things in her +pretty hair." + +"How do they come here, then?" + +"I suppose the people who have been occupying these rooms left them." + +"No one has occupied these rooms since they were redecorated and +refurnished." + +"You are mistaken, Robert. They have been fully occupied for the last +three weeks." + +"Dora, what are you saying?" + +"The truth! Call any of your servants, and they will tell you so." + +Without further words he rang the bell, and Ducie appeared. "Ducie," he +asked, "who told you there had been people staying in these rooms?" + +"The kitchen, sir; that is, the men and women in the kitchen. I was +taken all aback, for my lady had told me----" + +"Do you know who the people were?" + +"Mrs. and Miss Crawford, Mrs. Laird and her granddaughter, Miss +Greenhill." + +"Oh, they were relations, Dora," he said in a voice which indicated they +had a right there, and that he was neither grieved nor astonished at +their invasion of his apartments. + +"If you please, sir," interposed Ducie, "my lady's trunks were all +opened by Mrs. Crawford and the rest. It gave me such a turn!" + +"The rest? Who do you mean?" + +"Miss Crawford, Mrs. Laird, and Miss Greenhill." + +"Then give the ladies their proper names." + +"Yes, sir, Mrs. and Miss Crawford, Mrs. Laird, and Miss Greenhill have +opened and ransacked all the four trunks belonging to my lady, which +were sent on here directly after her marriage. She had given me the keys +of them, and when I saw them open it fairly took my breath away. I am +afraid many things are destroyed, and some things that cost no end of +money stolen. Not liking to be blamed for the same, I wish the matter +looked into." + +"Stolen! You should be careful how you use such a word." + +"Sir, excuse me, but people who open locked trunks, and use and destroy +what is not theirs are just as likely as not to carry off what they +want. My character is in danger, sir. I wish the trunks examined." + +"I suppose you have been through them." + +"No, indeed, sir. When my lady went to her dinner, I called in one of +the kitchen girls. I wanted a witness that I had never touched them." + +"How dare you make such charges, then?" + +"Ask my lady." + +"Dora, is there any truth in this girl's words?" + +"I fear she speaks too truly, Robert. I have only looked cursorily +through one trunk, but I found much fine clothing spoiled, and I fear +some jewelry gone. The ruby and sapphire ring given me by my college +history class as a wedding gift is not in the jewel case it was packed +in, and my turquoise necklace was scattered among my neckwear. It ought +to have been in the jewel box." + +"Perhaps you forgot in the hurry of packing where you put it." + +"I was not hurried. Those four trunks were all leisurely and carefully +packed, and the day we left Kendal for Paris----" + +"You mean our wedding-day?" + +"Yes." + +"Then why do you avoid saying so!" + +"I do not, but on that same day these four trunks were forwarded here. +If you remember, I only took one trunk on our--wedding journey. I +supposed these four would be quite safe in this house. But look here, +Robert," she continued, lifting a set of valuable ermine furs, "these +were given me by Mrs. Priestley. They were of the most exquisite +purity, but they look now as if they had been dipped in a light solution +of Indian ink." + +"The Glasgow rain," he answered carelessly. "Ducie, I do not think we +shall blame you." + +"Sir, I will take no blame, either about things spoiled, or stolen." + +"There is no question of theft. If the ladies using these rooms for a +day or two----" + +"For three weeks, sir." + +"Used also some clothing found in the rooms----" + +"Not found, sir, I beg pardon, but locked trunks were opened for them, +which the men in the kitchen say is clear burglary--perhaps wishing to +frighten me, sir. But this way, or that way, sir, things have been +ruined that cost no end of money, and when I saw my lady's spoiled gowns +and furs, and broken jewelry, they fairly took my breath away! Yes, sir, +they did." + +"You may go now, Ducie." + +"I cannot and will not be blamed, sir, and I want that fact clear." + +"You may go, now. I have told you that once before. If I have to tell +you again, you can leave the house altogether." + +"Ducie," said Theodora, "I wish you would look after clean linen for the +beds and dressing tables." + +"What is the matter with the linen, Dora?" + +"It is not clean. It looks as if it had been used for two or three +weeks." + +"Are you sure?" + +"Look at it! I can do without many things, Robert, but I cannot do +without clean linen." + +"Of course not! It is awfully provoking. I tried so hard to have +everything spotlessly clean and comfortable, but----" He turned away +with an air of angry disappointment. + +Dora went to his side and praised again all he had done. She said she +would forget all that was spoiled, or broken, or stolen for his sake, +and for sweet love's sake, and she emphasized all her tender words with +kisses and endearing names. + +And she found, as many women find, that the more she renounced her just +displeasure and chagrin the harder it was to conciliate her husband's. +Whether he enjoyed Dora's efforts to comfort him, or was really of that +childish temper which gets more and more injured, as it is more and more +consoled, it was at this stage of her married life impossible for +Theodora to decide. However, in a little while he condescended to +forgive Theodora for the annoyances others had caused him, and said: "It +is later than I thought it. We have forgotten tea." + +"I do not want any." + +"I am going to speak to mother. Shall I send you a cup?" + +"No, thank you. Do not stop long, Robert." + +She went to the window and looked out into the dreary night. A heavy +rain was falling, and not a star was visible in that muffled atmosphere. +Sorrowful feelings pervaded all her thoughts, and she asked her soul +eagerly for some password out of the tangle of small trials, which like +brambles made her path difficult and painful. For the circumstances in +which she so suddenly found herself, confounded and troubled her. Had +Robert deceived her? Had she been deceived in Robert? + +It was, however, a consciousness of having fallen below herself, which +hurt her worst of all. She had made concessions, where concession was +wrong; she had made apologies for her husband, whereas he ought to have +made them to her. + +"I have been weak," she whispered to her Inner Woman, and that truthful +monitor replied: + +"_To be weak is to be wicked._" + +"I have resigned my just rights and my just anger." + +"_And so have encouraged others to be unjust and unkind, and to sin +against you._" + +"And I have gained nothing by my cowardly self-sacrifice." + +"_Nothing but humiliation and suffering, which you deserve._" + +"What can I do?" + +"_Retrace your first wrong step, in order to take your first right +step._" + +Ere this mental catechism was finished, Ducie entered the rooms with her +arms full of clean linen, and Theodora said: "I see you have got the +linen, Ducie. Make up my bed first." + +"Got it! Yes, ma'am, after a fight for it. The chambermaid was willing +enough, but madame held the keys, and madame said the beds had been +changed four days ago, and she would not have them changed but once a +week. I refused to go away, and the girl went back to her, and was +ordered to leave the room. Then I went, and told her that whether she +was willing or unwilling I had to have clean linen, as the beds had been +stripped, and Mr. Campbell wanted to go to sleep, and Mrs. Campbell had +a headache. Then she flew into a passion, and I do not think I durst +have stayed in her presence longer, but Mr. Campbell was heard coming, +so she flung the keys to one of the young ladies, and told her to 'see +to it.' Then I had a fresh fight for pillow-cases, and covers for the +dressing tables, and I was told to remember that I would get no more +linen for a week. 'Fresh linen once a week is the rule in this house,' +the young lady said, 'and no rules will be broken for Mrs. Robert. You +can tell her Miss Campbell said so.'" + +"Well, Ducie, we must look out for ourselves. I will buy linen +to-morrow, and then we can change every day in the week, if we want to." + +Robert had been requested not to stay long, but his interview with his +mother proved to be both long and stormy. The old lady had felt the +irritation of the dinner table, and though she herself was wholly to +blame for its quarrelsome atmosphere, she was not influenced by a truth +she chose to ignore. Ever since dinner she had been talking to her +daughters of Theodora, and her smouldering dislike was now a flaming +one. The application for clean linen had made her furious, and she was +scolding about it when Robert entered the room. But he knew before he +opened the door of his mother's parlor what he had to meet, and the +dormant demon of his own temper roused itself for the encounter. He went +into her presence with a face like a thundercloud, and asked angrily: + +"Why did you let any one--I say any one--into my rooms, mother? I think +their occupancy without my permission a scandalous piece of business." + +"Keep your temper, Robert Campbell, for your wife. She will need it, I +warrant." + +"Answer my question, if you please!" + +"Well, then, if it is scandalous to entertain your kindred, it would +have been much more scandalous to have turned them out of the house." + +"Kindred! It is a far cry to call kindred with that Crawford and Laird +crowd. I will not have them here! Take notice of that." + +"They will come here when they come to Glasgow." + +"Then I shall turn them out." + +"Then I shall go out with them." + +"My rooms----" + +"Preserve us! No harm has been done to your rooms." + +"They have been defiled in every way--old curl papers, dirty hairpins, +stains on the carpets and covers. I burn with shame when I think of my +wife seeing their vulgar remains." + +"Your wife? Your wife, indeed! She is----" + +"I don't want your opinion of my wife." + +"You born idiot! What do you want?" + +"I want you to write to the women who opened my wife's trunks, and +ruined her clothing, and stole her jewelry, or I----" + +"Don't you dare to throw '_or_' at me. I can say '_or_' as big as you. +What before earth and heaven are you saying!" + +"That my rooms have been entered, my wife's trunks broken open----" + +"You have said that once already! I had the Dalkeiths in my spare rooms. +Was I to turn the Crawfords and the Lairds on to the sidewalk because +your rooms had been refurnished for Dora Newton?" + +"Campbell is my wife's name." + +"I thank God your kindred had the first use of your rooms! You ought to +be glad of the circumstance. And pray, what harm is there in opening a +bride's trunks?" + +"Only burglary." + +"Don't be a tenfold fool. A bride's costumes are always examined by her +women kin and friends. My trunks were all opened by the Campbells before +your father brought me home. Every Scotch bride expects it, and if you +have married a poor, silly English girl, who knows nothing of the ways +and manners of your native country, I am not to blame." + +"Let me tell you----" + +"Let me finish, sir. I wish to say there was nothing in Dora Newton's +trunks worth looking at--home-made gowns, and the like." + +"Yet two of them have been worn and ruined." + +"Jean Crawford and Bell Greenhill wore them a few times. They wanted to +go to the theatre or somewhere, and had not brought evening gowns with +them. I told them to wear some of Dora's things. Why not? She is in the +family now, more's the pity." + +"They had no right to touch them." + +"I'm sure I wish they had not worn them. Jean and Bell are +stylish-looking girls in their own gowns. Dora's made them look dowdy +and common. I was fairly sorry for them." + +"Which of them wore Theodora's ring? That ring must come back--_must_, I +say. Understand me, mother, it must come back." + +"If it is lost----" + +"It will be a case for the police--sure as death!" + +The oath frightened her. "You have lost your senses, Robert," she cried; +"you are fairly bewitched. And oh, what a miserable woman I am! Both my +lads!" and she covered her face with her handkerchief, and began to sigh +and sob bitterly. + +Then Isabel went to her mother's side, and as she did so said with +scornful anger: + +"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Robert Campbell. You have nearly +broken your mother's heart by your disgraceful marriage. Can you not +make Dora behave decently, and not turn the old home and our poor +simple lives upside down, with all she requires?" + +"Isabel, do you think it was right to put people in the rooms I had +spent so much time and money in furnishing?" + +"Quite right, seeing the people were our own kindred. It was not right +to spend all the time and money you spent on those rooms for a stranger. +You ought to be glad some of your own family got a little pleasure in +them first of all." + +"They did not know how to use them. Both the Crawfords and Lairds are +vulgar, common, and uneducated women. They know nothing of the decencies +of life." + +"That may be true, but they are mother's kin, and blood is thicker than +water. The Crawfords and Lairds are blood-kin; Dora is only water." + +"Theodora is my wife. I see that mother will no longer listen to me. Try +and convince her that I am in earnest. My rooms are _my_ rooms, and no +one comes into them unless they are invited by Theodora or myself. My +wife's clothing and ornaments of all kinds belong to my wife, and not to +the whole family. Write to Jean Crawford, and Bell Greenhill, and tell +them to return all they have taken, or I shall make them do so." + +"I suppose, Robert, they have only borrowed whatever they have. They +often borrow my rings and brooches and even my dresses." + +"Isabel, when people borrow even a ring, without the knowledge and +consent of the owner, the law calls it stealing; and the person who has +so borrowed it, the law calls a thief. I hope you understand me." + +He was leaving the room when his mother sobbed out: "Oh, Robert, +Robert!" + +For a moment he hesitated; then he went to her side and asked: "What is +it you wish, mother?" + +"I did not mean--to hurt you--I was brought up so different. I thought +it would be all right--with you--that you, at least--would understand. I +expected you knew--all about the marriage customs--you are Scotch. Oh, +dear, dear! My poor heart--will break!" + +He touched her hand kindly and answered: "Well, do not cry, mother, I +will say no more about it. Good-night." + +"Good (sob) night (sob), Robert!" + +But as soon as the door closed, the furious woman flung down her +handkerchief in a rage, saying in low, passionate tones: "You see, +girls! When you can't reason with a man, can't touch his brain, you may +try crying about him, for perhaps he has something he calls a heart." + +Returning to his own apartments Robert found that the lights had been +lowered and that Theodora was apparently asleep. He stood looking at her +a few minutes, but decided not to awaken her. She would, he thought, +want to know all that had been said and he was tired of the subject. His +mother's tears had washed all color and vitality out of it. She believed +herself to be right and from her point of view he admitted she was. He +told himself that Theodora did not comprehend the wonderful complexity +of the Scotch character--he must try and teach her. And as for her +destroyed, or lost adornments, they could be replaced. Of course money +would be, as it were, lost in such replacement, but it would be a good +lesson, and lessons of all kinds take money. Thus, by a new road, he had +come back to the usual Campbell appreciation of the Campbells, for +though he was keenly alive to the individual defects of that large +family he was at the same time conscious of their superiority to the +rest of the world. + +In the morning he began to give Theodora the lesson he had himself +absorbed. He told her that it was some of their own relatives who had +occupied the rooms, and then explained the wonderful strength of the +family tie in Scotch families. "I think," he added, "that under the +circumstances, mother did the only possible thing." + +"And the opening of my trunks, Robert dear, and the use of my clothing, +is that also a result of the Scotch family tie?" + +"Yes-s," he answered with easy composure, "they looked on you as one of +us and supposed you would gladly loan what they needed. Isabel says they +often borrow her brooches and rings and gowns. Moreover, mother informed +me, that it is the common custom to open a bride's trunks, and examine +her belongings." + +"A very rude and barbarous custom, I think, Robert, and it makes no +excuse for an infringement of manifest courtesy and kindness. And I am +sure that every one can forgive an injury, easier than an infringement +of their rights." + +"You must try and look at the matter reasonably, dear Dora." + +"You mean unreasonably, Robert, but if you do not care, why should I?" +Robert made no reply, but went on examining his fingernails, apparently +without noticing the look of pained surprise in his wife's eyes, nor yet +the far deeper sign of distress--that dumb lip-biting which indicates an +intensity of outraged feeling. + +This was Theodora's first lesson in the complexities of the Scotch +character, and it was a dear one. It cost her many illusions, many +hopes, and some secret tears. And the gain was doubtful. Nature knows +how to profit from every shower of rain, every glint of sunshine, every +drop of dew; but which of us ever learn from any past experience, how to +prepare a future that will give us what we desire? + +During the night she had plumbed the depths of depression, but in a +short deep morning sleep, she had found the strength to possess her +soul, not in patience, but in a sweet, firm resistance. She would accept +cheerfully the lot she had chosen, for to bear dumbly and passively the +many petty wrongs which ill-temper and dislike must bring her would only +tempt those who hated her to a continuance and enlargement of their sin. +Every one, even her husband, would despise her, and she suddenly +remembered how God, when He would reason with Job, bid him rise from +his dunghill, stand upon his feet, and answer Him like a man. So, she +would submit to no injustice, nor suffer without contradiction any lying +accusation, yet her weapons of defence should be kind and clean, and her +victory won by love and truth and honor--for in this way she herself +would rise by + + --"_the things put under her feet, + By what she mastered of good and gain, + By the pride deposed, by the passion slain, + And the vanquished ills she would hourly meet._" + +The prospect of such a victory made her heart swell with a noble joy, +for thus she would be creating her spiritual self, and so being God-like +be also loved of God. + +Her first effort was to compel herself to go to the breakfast table. She +wished to have Ducie bring her a cup of coffee and a couple of rolls to +her room, but that would only be shirking the inevitable. So she went to +the family table smiling, and almost radiant in a pretty pink gown, and +beautiful white muslin neckwear. Her manner was cheerful and +conciliatory, but it utterly failed, because the old lady believed it to +be the result of orders from her son. She was sure Robert had seen the +reasonableness of her conduct, and told Theodora to accept the +circumstances as unavoidable, and perhaps even excusable. + +So in spite of her smiles and efforts at conversation, the meal was +silent and unhappy and towards the end really distressing. It had begun +with oatmeal porridge served on large dinner plates, and she had +accepted her share without remark, though unable to eat it. But later, +when a dish of boiled salt herring appeared, its peculiar odor made her +so sick that it was with painful difficulty she sat through the meal. +Robert noticed her white face and general air of distress, and slightly +hurried his own meal in consequence. + +"Are you ill, Dora?" he asked, when she fell nauseated and limp among +the sofa cushions. + +"It was the smell of the salt fish, Robert. I could not conquer it." + +"But you must try. We have boiled salt herring every morning. I do not +remember a breakfast without them." + +"Then, dear Robert, I must have a cup of coffee in my dressing-room." + +"You might learn to bear the smell." + +"The ordeal would be too wasteful of life." + +"I don't see----" + +"No one can afford a disagreeable breakfast, Robert. It spoils the whole +day. And I might waste weeks and months trying to like the odor of +boiled salt herring, and never succeed--it is sickening to me." + +"It does not make me sick. I have had a boiled salt herring to breakfast +ever since I was seven years old." + +"You have learned to bear them." + +"I like them." + +"Did you like them at first?" + +"No, but I was made to eat them until at last I learned to relish them. +Mother believed them to be good for me. Now, I do not think my breakfast +perfect without a boiled salt herring." + +"We can force nature to take, and even enjoy poisons like whiskey and +opium, but I think such an education sinful and unclean." + +"Dora, you are too fastidious." + +"No, because a wronged body means something to a sensitive soul." + +"If you look at such a small thing in a light so important, you had +better take your breakfast alone. Good-morning!" + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +FOES IN THE HOUSEHOLD + + +She was ill for some hours, and all day much troubled at the +circumstance. In her proposed fight against the hatred of her husband's +family she had lost the first move, for she could well imagine the +triumphant mockery of her mother-in-law over her weakness and +squeamishness. In the afternoon she asked for the carriage, as she +wished to do some shopping, and was told Mrs. Campbell was intending to +use it. Then she sent for a cab and while she was dressing, Christina +came into her room wearing her street costume. + +"Isabel is going out with mother," she said. "Can I go with you, +Theodora?" + +The proposal was not welcome, but without hesitation Theodora answered: +"I shall be obliged if you will. I have some shopping to do, and you can +tell me the best places to go to." + +"I certainly can; I know all the best shops. I always do the shopping. I +like to shop; Isabel hates it. She says the shopmen are not civil to +her. Isabel is so particular about her dignity." + +"That is rather a good quality, is it not?" + +"I don't know--with that kind of people--shopmen and the like--it is +rather a daft thing to do." + +"Daft?" + +"Silly, I mean. They have to wait on you, why should you care how they +do it? I don't." + +"I am ready. Shall we go now?" + +"I am ready. What will you buy first?" + +"Linen--sheets, pillow-cases, table-cloths, napkins, etc. We shall want +a linen draper." + +"Then tell cabby to drive us to Smith and McDonald's. It is perfectly +lovely to be with you, and without mother and Isabel to snub me. I feel +as if I were having a holiday." + +"Perhaps I might snub you." + +"I am sure you will not. I believe I am going to have a happy +afternoon." + +And she really had a few hours that perfectly delighted her. Theodora +asked her advice, and frequently took it. Theodora bought her gloves and +lace, and after the shopping was finished, they went into McLeod's +confectionery and had ices and cakes, lemonade and caramels. For once in +her life, Christina had felt herself to be well-informed and important. +She had told several funny stories also, and Theodora had laughed and +enjoyed them; indeed, she felt as if Theodora considered her quite +clever. + +"I have had such a jolly afternoon," she said as they parted. "Thank you +for taking me with you! I cannot tell you how happy I have been." + +But to Isabel's queries, she answered with an air of ennui: "You know +well, Isabel, what shopping means. We went here and there, and bought +linen of all kinds, and wine and cakes, and then we went to the large +furniture store, and selected a bookcase; for it seems that Robert, with +all his carefulness, forgot one." + +"Did you like her?" + +"She is good-natured enough. Everywhere we went the shopmen fell over +each other to wait on her. My! but it is a grand thing to be beautiful." + +"Do you really think her beautiful?" + +"Every one else does. It matters little what the Traquair Campbells +think. She is rather saucy, but she is so pleasant about it you can't +take offence." + +"Was she saucy to you?" + +"Yes." + +"What did she say?" + +"She said she would be much obliged if I would tap at the door before +entering her room." + +"The idea!" + +"Oh, she is nice enough! I wish mother was not so set against her. I +know she plays and sings, and I adore good music." + +"You will be adoring her next." + +"No, I will not, but I intend to use her when I can." + +"What for?" + +"To give me a little pleasure--to show me how to dress--to lend me books +and music, and take me with her when she goes calling and shopping." + +"I would not receive such favors from a person mother disliked so much." + +"Mother never finds any one she likes, except the Campbelton +people--frowsy, vulgar things, all of them; and I do think it was a +shame to use Dora's dresses and furs and jewelry the way they did." + +"Mother said it was right, and Robert seemed to think so also--that is, +after mother had explained the subject to him." + +"Whatever mother thinks, Robert finally thinks the same. He is more +afraid of mother than we are. I despise a man who can't stick to his own +opinion." + +"But if his opinion is wrong?" + +"All the same, he ought to stick to it; I should. I think Dora is a +lovely woman, and good, and clever. Mother ought to be proud of her new +daughter." + +"Mother had a high ideal for Robert's wife." + +"One that nobody but a Traquair Campbell--or a Jane Dalkeith could +fill." + +"Jane might have pleased her." + +"No one pleases mother! If you gave her the whites of your eyes, she +would not be pleased." + +"You must not forget, Christina, that she is our mother, and that the +Scriptures command us to honor her." + +"Sometimes, and in some cases, Isabel, that command is a gey hard one--I +might say an impossible one." + +"Perhaps, but the Holy Word makes no exceptions--good or bad, wise or +foolish, they are to be honored. Dr. Robertson said so, in his last +sermon to the Sunday School." + +"Dr. Robertson isna infallible, and 'wi' his ten romping, rampaging +sons and daughters, he be to lay down a strict law.' That was Jenny +McDonald's commentary on his sermon. I heard her say so, and I thought +to myself 'Jenny McDonald, you are a vera discerning woman.' I have +respected her ever since, and I shall see she gets a pair of blankets at +the Christmas fair." + +"Well, Christina, I shall not quarrel with you about Dora. I can live +without Dora, but you are essential." + +The evening proved to be as pleasant, as the morning had been +disagreeable. Robert had doubtless suffered some qualms of conscience +regarding his wife's treatment, and resolved to make it up to her by his +own attention. For he believed so firmly in himself, and in Theodora's +love for him, that he really thought a few kind words would atone for +every wrong and unkindness she had suffered. + +He found Theodora in the mood he expected. She was beautifully gowned, +and radiant with welcoming smiles. He forgot to name her morning +indisposition, but asked what she had been doing all day, and was much +pleased when she answered: + +"Christina and I have been shopping this afternoon. She was of great +assistance to me, and we had a delightful time." Then she told him what +she had bought, and made some very merry comments on the strange shops +and polite shopmen. + +Two things in her recital were particularly satisfactory--one of his own +family had shared her pleasure, and he had not been asked for money to +contribute to it. For his wedding expenses had begun to give him a +sense of poverty, and his naturally economical nature was shocked at +their total. But if Theodora liked to buy more linen and furniture, and +treat his sister and herself he had no objections. He supposed she had +plenty of money, he thought of what Mr. Newton called her "royalties," +and felt he might--at least for a few weeks--throw his responsibilities +upon them. + +On the whole, sitting by Theodora's side and listening to her pleasant +conversation, he felt life to be decidedly worth living. Her moderated +dress was also in consonance with his desires. For she had felt her +costume on the previous night to be out of tone with her surroundings, +and had therefore made a much simpler toilet. She had even wondered if +the rich silk and lace, and pearls, were to blame for the unkindness of +her reception; if so, she resolved not to err in that respect again. So +she wore a light gray liberty silk gown of walking length, with a pretty +white muslin waist, and an Eton jacket. A short sash of the same silk +tied at the left side was the only trimming, and her wedding ring with +its diamond guard her only jewelry. Its simplicity elicited her +husband's ardent admiration, and she hoped it would be satisfactory to +all. But who can please jealousy, envy, and hatred? An angel from heaven +would fail, then how should a mortal woman succeed? + +"Last night," said her mother-in-law scornfully, "my lady came sweeping +into the room like a very butterfly of a woman. She thought she would +astonish us. Did she imagine the Traquair Campbells could be snubbed by +a silk dress and a string of pearls? And to-night she comes smiling in +as modest as a Quakeress. I am led to believe, Robert has been giving +her a few words. I know right well she deserved them." + +"Mother," said Isabel, "I dare say she wanted us to believe that she had +been used to full dress dinners." + +"A likely thing in a Methodist preacher's house, or a girl's school +either." + +"College, you mean, mother," corrected Christina. "Or perhaps she +thought if she was dressed very fine, we would like her better. Dress +does make a deal of difference. None of us like our cousins Kerr, +because they dress so shabby." + +"Speak for your own feelings, Christina. Your sister Isabel and I always +treat the Kerr girls with respect." + +"Respect is a gey cold welcome. I would not take it twice." + +"I think you are forgetting yourself, Christina," said Isabel. + +"She has been in bad company all afternoon, Isabel. What can you expect? +I heard her tee-heeing and laughing with Dora, almost until dinner +time." + +And even as the old woman spoke, Robert entered and asked his sisters to +come and spend the evening with Dora and himself. "Dora is going to +sing," he said, "and it will be a great treat for you to hear her." + +"Thank you, brother," said Isabel. "I prefer to stay with mother." + +"Perhaps mother will also come." + +"No, Robert, I do not care for worldly music, and if I did, Christina +sings and plays very well." + +"Robert, I shall be delighted to come," said Christina. "You know I love +music." + +"You will remain with your sister and myself, Christina." + +"Please, mother, let me go! Robert, please!" and she looked so +entreatingly at her brother, that he sat down by his mother, and taking +her hand said: "You must humor me in this matter, dear mother. I want +some of you with me, and I am sure Christina can learn a great deal from +Dora. It will cost her nothing, and she ought to take advantage of +Dora's skill." + +The last argument prevailed. If Christina could get any advantage for +nothing, and especially from Theodora, Mrs. Campbell approved the +project. + +"You may go with your brother, Christina, for an hour, and make the most +of your opportunities. One thing is sure, the woman ought to do +something for the family, for goodness knows, we have been put to +extraordinary expense and trouble for her pleasure." + +A few minutes after the departure of Robert and his sister, Mrs. +Campbell said: "Open the parlor door, Isabel, and let us hear the +'treat' if we can." + +But the songs Theodora sang were quite unknown to the two listeners and +Mrs. Campbell indulged herself in much scornful criticism. "Who ever +heard the like? Do you call that music? It is just skirling. I would +rather hear Christina sing '_The Bush Aboon Traquair_,' or '_The Lass o' +Patie's Mill_,' or a good rattling Jacobite song like '_Highland +Laddie_,' or '_Over the Water to Charlie_.' There is music in the like +o' them, but there isn't a note o' it in Dora's caterwauling." + +"Listen, mother! She is singing merrily enough now. I wonder what it is? +Robert and Christina are both laughing." + +"Something wicked and theatrical, no doubt. Shut the door, Isabel, and +give me my _Practice of Piety_. Then you may leave me, and go to your +room, unless you wish to join your sister." + +"Mother, do not be unjust." + +"In an hour remind Christina. You are a good daughter, Isabel. You are +my greatest comfort." + +"Good-night, mother; you are always first with me." + +When Christina's hour was nearly at its close, Isabel went to her +brother's parlor door. Theodora was singing the sweetest little melody +and her voice was so charmful that Isabel could not tap at the door--as +Christina had been instructed to do--until it ceased. And for many a day +the words haunted her, though she always told herself there was neither +sense nor reason in them. + + "_If there were dreams to sell + What would you buy? + Some cost a passing bell, + Some a light sigh, + That shakes from Life's fresh crown + Only a rose leaf down. + If there were dreams to sell, + Merry and sad to tell, + And the crier rang the bell, + What would you buy?_" + +After this question had rung itself into her heart and memory, she +tapped at the door and Robert rose and opened it. And when Isabel spoke +they brought her in, willing or unwilling, and made so much of her visit +that she could not deny their kindness. Besides, as Robert told her, +they wanted a game of whist so much, and she made it possible. "You +shall be my partner," he added, "and we are sure to win." He was holding +her hand as he spoke, and ere he ceased, he had led her to the table and +got her a seat. Christina threw down a pack of cards, and Isabel found +it impossible to resist the temptation, for she loved a game of whist +and played a clever hand. Then the hours slipped happily away, and it +was near midnight when the sisters stepped softly to their rooms. + +"I have had such a good time," whispered Christina. + +"It was a good game," answered Isabel. + +"Don't you think she is nice?" + +"Dora?" + +"Yes." + +"She puts on plenty of nice airs." + +"I hope Robert will ask us to-morrow night." + +"I shall not go again. I could not help to-night's visit. There is no +need to say anything to mother. It would only worry her." + +"In the morning she will tell us the precise moment that we came +upstairs. No doubt she was watching and listening, and if we had the +feet of a mouse she would hear us." + +But if Mrs. Campbell heard she made no remark on the situation. She knew +well that if Isabel was brought face to face with her frailty, she would +defend it, and defend all concerned in it, and also make a point of +repeating the fault in order to prove the propriety of her position. +That would be giving Theodora too great an advantage. On the contrary, +she was in her pleasantest mood, and as Theodora had her coffee in her +own parlor there was no incident to mar the even temper of the breakfast +table. + +When Robert left it, he was followed so quickly by Christina that she +had an opportunity of speaking to him as he was putting on his overcoat +and gloves, and thus to thank him for his invitation of the previous +evening. "I never had such a happy time in all my life, Robert," she +said, "and Theodora does play and sing wonderfully. It is a joy to +listen to her." + +"Is it not?" he queried with a beaming face. "You were a good girl to +call on her, and go out with her; and I will remember you at the New +Year handsomely if you make things pleasant for Theodora." + +"I would do so to please you, Robert. I do not want to be paid for +that," replied Christina. Robert smiled and went away in such a happy +temper, that Jepson said as he took his place at the head of the kitchen +breakfast table: "The master is off in high spirits this morning. The +bride is winning her way, I suppose. She seems rather an attractive +woman." + +"You suppose! And pray what will your supposing be worth, Mr. Jepson?" +Mrs. McNab asked this question scornfully from the foot of the table. +"Attractive, indeed! She's charming, she's captivating, she's +enchanting, she's bewitching; and if she was only Highland Scotch, she +would soon be teaching thae sour old women the meaning o' them powerful +words. She would that! But she's o'er good, and o'er good-tempered for +the like o' them." + +"You are talking of the mistress, McNab." + +"I am weel acquaint wi' that fact, and I'll just remind you that my name +is Mistress McNab, when you find sense enough to give me my right. And +if it isna lawfu' to talk o' Mistress Traquair Campbell, there's no law +forbidding me to talk o' them Lairds and Crawfords. If they ever come +here again, the smoke will get through their porridge, and they'll +wonder what the de'il is the matter wi' Mistress McNab's cookery." + +"The guests of the house, McNab, ought to have a kind of +consideration." + +"Consider them yoursel', then." + +"The Crawfords and Lairds both are the most respect----" + +"Ill-bred, and forwardsome o' mortals. I could say much worse----" + +"Better not." + +"Bouncing, swaggering, nasty, beggarly creatures! They turn up their +lang noses, and the palms o' their greedy hands at the like o' you and +me, but there isna a lady or a gentleman at this table, that wouldna +scorn the dirty things they did here." + +"They gave none o' us a sixpence when they went awa," said Thomas, the +second man. + +"Sixpence! They couldna imagine a bawbee or a kind word to anybody but +themsel's. They wouldna gie the smoke aff their porridge--but I'll tell +you the differ o' them. The young mistress, God bless her, sends her +maid to me last night, and the girl--a civil spoken creature--says: +'Mrs. McNab, my mistress would like her coffee and rolls in her own +parlor, and there will be due you half-a-crown a week for your trouble, +and thank you.' That's the way a lady puts things. And mind you, if +there's the like o' a fresh kidney, or a few mushrooms coming Mrs. +McNab's way, they will go to my lovely lady in her own parlor--and +Jepson, you can just tell the auld woman I made that remark." + +"What is said at this table goes no further, Mrs. McNab, and that you +know." + +"Then the auld woman has the far-hearing, that's a'----" and being by +this time at the end of her temper and her English speech, she plunged +into Gaelic. It was her sure and unconquered resort, for no one could +answer unpronounceable and untranslatable words. All her companions knew +was, that she rose from the table with an air of victory. + +The next week was very wet. Day after day it was rain only interrupted +by more rain, and Robert seemed to take a kind of pride in its +abundance. "Few countries are so well watered as Scotland," he said +complacently: + + "_The West wind always brings wet weather, + The East wind wet and cold together, + The South wind surely brings us rain, + The North wind blows it back again._" + +This storm included Sunday, and every one went to church except +Theodora. She had a headache, and having been told by Christina that the +Kirk would size her up the first Sabbath she appeared, she resolved to +put off the ordeal. The pleasure of being quite alone for a few hours +was a temptation, for she needed solitude more than service, bewildered +as she was by the strange household ideas and customs which had suddenly +encompassed her life. + +She had thought that religion, or some point of nationality, would be +the most likely rocks of offence, but as yet all her trials had come +from some trivial circumstance of daily life. She had been embarrassed +by such small differences, that she hardly knew in the hasty decisions +they compelled, what to defend and what to abandon. + +It was also a wearisome experience to be constantly exchanging +suspicious courtesies with her husband's family, and by no effort of +love or patience could she get beyond these. Their want of response made +her sad, and checked her affectionate and spontaneous advances, but she +knew that in the trials of domestic life all plans must come at last to +the give and take, bear and forbear theory. So after some reflection, +she said softly to herself: "These women are the samples of humanity +given me with my husband, and I must make the best of them. I can choose +my friends, but I must take my relations as I find them. They are not +what I wish, not what I expected, but I fear nothing comes up to our +expectations. The real thing always lacks the color of the thing hoped +for." + +Such despondent musings, however, were not natural to her hopeful +temper. "There must be a bright side to the situation," she continued, +"and I must try and find it." So she roused herself from the recumbent +position she had taken. "Stand up on thy feet, and look for the bright +side, Theodora." As she did so, her eyes fell upon the small book in her +hand, and she read these words: + + "Take a good heart, O Jerusalem, for he that gave thee that + name will comfort thee." With a joyful smile she read it again, + and this time aloud: + + "Take a good heart, O Theodora, for he that gave thee that name + will comfort thee!"[1] The glorious promise inspired her at + once with strength and joy; she felt her soul singing within + her, and her first impulse was to open the piano and pour out + her thanksgiving. + + "O come let us sing unto the Lord, let us heartily rejoice in + the strength of our salvation." + +[Footnote 1: Baruch. Chap. 4, v. 30.] + +At this point McNab rushed into the room crying: "For goodness sake, my +lady, stop! You'll be having the police in, and the de'il to pay all +round, disturbing the Sunday saints and the like o' it. Excuse me, +ma'am, but you don't know what you're up to." + +"I am singing a psalm, McNab. Is there anything wrong in that?" + +"You've put your finger on the wrong, ma'am. Singing a psalm isna a +thing fit to be done in your ain parlor on the Sunday. It is a' right in +the Kirk, but it is a' wrang in the parlor." + +"How is that?" + +"You be to ask wiser folk than I am what's the differ. If you were +singing the psalm o' the blessed Virgin itsel' and folk heard you, there +would be no end o' the matter. You can sing without the piano, ma'am, +it's the piano that's the blackguard on a Sunday." + +"Thank you, McNab, for warning me. I have not learned the ways of the +country yet." + +"You'll never learn them, ma'am. They must be borned in ye, sucked in +wi' your mither's milk, and thrashed into ye wi' your school lessons. +Just gie them their ways, and stick to your ain. You can do that, McNab +does. They are easy satisfied if it suits their convenience. Every soul +in this house is at church but mysel', for I hae made collops the +regular Sunday dinner, and no one but McNab can cook collops to suit +Mrs. Traquair Campbell." + +"I am sure she would not keep you from church to make collops." + +"I am a Catholic, and she keeps me at home to make collops, to prevent +me going to my ain church. God save us! she thinks she is keeping me +from serving the devil." + +"So you are a Catholic?" + +"Glory be to God, I am a Catholic! Did you ever taste collops, ma'am?" + +"I never heard of them." + +"Weel, they arena bad, and when McNab makes them, they are vera good. I +shall put a few mushrooms in them to-day for your sake." + +"Thank you!" + +"And you can sing twice as much the morn. I'm sure it is a thanksgiving +to listen to you." + +Then the door closed, and Theodora closed the piano, put away her music, +and went upstairs to dress for dinner. The thanksgiving was still in her +heart, and she sang it with her soul joyfully, as she put on one of her +most cheerful and beautiful costumes. It seemed natural and proper to do +so, and without reasoning on the subject, she felt it to be in fit +sympathy with her mood. + +Even when the churchgoers came home drabbled and dripping, and as cross +and gloomy as if they had been to hear a Gospel that was bad news, +instead of good news, she did not feel its incongruity with her +environment, until her mother-in-law said: + +"You are very much over-dressed for the day, Dora." + +"It is God's day, and I dressed in honor of the day." + +"Then you should have gone to church to honor Him." + +Before his wife could reply, Robert made a diversion: "What did you +think of the sermon, mother?" he asked. + +"It was a very strong sermon." + +"Who was the preacher?" asked Isabel. + +"Dr. Fraser of Stirling," said Robert. + +"Well, brother, I do not believe Dr. Robertson would have approved the +sermon. It is not like his preaching." + +"It was an excellent sermon," reiterated Mrs. Campbell. "I hope all the +uncovenanted present felt its weighty solemnity." She muttered, twice +over, its awful text: "The wicked shall be turned into hell, and all the +nations that forget God." + +"There is a better word for them than that," said Theodora, her face +alight with spiritual promise. "'The Lord is long-suffering to us-ward, +not willing that any should perish, but that _all_ should come to +repentance.' That is what Saint Peter says, and Timothy, 'God our +Saviour will have all men to be saved,' a great _all_ that, and the +Testament is full of such glad hope." + +"Those passages do not apply to the lost, Dora." + +"But as your great Scotch preacher, Thomas Erskine, said, we are lost +_here_ as much as there, and Christ came to seek and to save the lost." + +Mrs. Campbell looked with sorrowful anger at her son, and Robert said: +"My dear Dora, you argue like a woman. Women should listen, and never +argue." + +"Women are told to search the Scriptures, Robert. I search and +understand them, but I do not often understand the men who profess to +explain them." + +"Your father----" + +"Oh, my father! _He_ has come unto Bethlehem. Those who can believe God +has any pleasure in punishing sinners, are still at Sinai." + +"God must punish sinners," said Isabel. + +"God can reform and forgive them, just as easily; and it would be far +more in accord with His nature, for 'God is Love.'" + +"If we are to have a theological discussion by young women, I shall +retire," said Robert, and with these words he rose from the table. + +"Sit down, Robert. You have had no pudding." + +"The collops were very fine to-day, mother, and I am satisfied." + +As he left the room Theodora rose and went with him, but he did not +appear to notice her. When they were in their parlor he said: "You ought +to have sat still and finished your argument with my sister." + +"Have I done something wrong, Robert?" + +"I think if you cannot assent to mother's statements, it would be more +becoming not to contradict them." + +"If it had been a matter of no importance, I would have kept silence, +but I must always testify in any company, the absolute perfection of +Jesus Christ's sacrifice." + +"Nobody challenged it." + +"But if it does not save _all_ it is imperfect. And surely John the +Beloved knew his Master's heart, and he says 'Jesus Christ is the +propitiation for our sins, and not for ours only, but also for the sins +of the whole world.' How can any one dare to narrow that zone of mercy?" + +"You argue like a woman, Dora." + +"I am not arguing. I am only quoting what the greatest of men have +said." + +Then Robert lifted the _Sunday Magazine_ and answered all her further +efforts at conversation in polite monosyllables, and finding the +position she had been relegated to both embarrassing and humiliating, +she finally went to her room upstairs, and shut herself in with God. Her +eyes were full of unshed tears, as she turned the key, for she felt that +something in her life had lost its foothold. Was it her faith? Oh, no! +She trusted God implicitly. She could not think any ill of Him, she had +loved Him from her cradle. Was it her love? Oh, how reluctant she was, +to even ask this question. But there was a great change in Robert, or +was it that she now saw the real Robert Campbell, while the man who had +wooed and won her had been but a man playing a lover's rôle? + +For even during the few days they had been at home, it was evident that +both he and his family were resolved on her surrendering her faith, and +her individuality. She was to be made over by the Campbells in their own +image and likeness. Robert had loved and married Theodora Newton; was +she to change her character with her name? She had made no such promise, +and, without the slightest egotism, she could see that such a denial of +herself would compel from her mental and spiritual nature a downward, +backward movement, so deep and wide she dared not contemplate it. + +Her duty to her husband was plain as the Bible, and she promised herself +to fulfil it to the last tittle, but while doing this, she must find the +courage to be true to herself, as well as to others. And as nothing can +be done in the heart by halves, it would be no fitful or uncertain +struggle. The whole soul, the whole heart, the whole mind, the whole +life, would be demanded. She was troubled at the prospect before her. +Would she find strength and wisdom for it? Or would it prove to be +another of the lost fights of Virtue? + +"No, no!" she cried. "I shall not fight alone. God and Theodora are a +multitude." + +She had certainly that doleful afternoon gone back in piteous memory to +her teaching and writing, and her own peaceful, loving home, and thought +that if trouble was necessary for her higher development it could have +been better borne in either environment. But she acknowledged also that + + "_Where our Captain bids us go, + 'Tis not ours to murmur 'No.' + He that gives us sword and shield, + Chooses too the battlefield._" + +So if God had chosen this gloomy house, full of jealousy, envy, hatred, +and apparently dying love, for her battlefield, it was not her place to +murmur "No," nor even her desire, since He that + + "_chose the battlefield, + Would give her also sword and shield._" + + + + +CHAPTER V + +BAD AT BEST + + +If there had been a little diversity in the Campbell family it would +have been a more bearable household. But they had the same prejudices +and the same likes and dislikes, differing only in the intensity with +which they held them. Mrs. Campbell and her son Robert were the most +positive, Isabel was but little behind them, and Christina was easily +bent as the others desired. Under present circumstances she could only +be true to her family; under any other circumstances, it was doubtful if +she could be false. This monotony of feeling pressed like a weight on +Theodora, who felt that she could have borne opposition and unkindness +better if there had been more variety in their exhibition; for then Life +might have had some interesting fluctuations. + +But Mrs. Campbell did precisely the same things every day, and to go to +the works at the same moment every morning was the sum-total of Robert's +life. The girls had certain dresses for the morning, and certain other +dresses for the afternoon, and their employments were quite as uniform. +There were even certain menus for every day's dinner in the week, and +these were repeated with little or no change year in and year out. For +Mrs. Campbell hated the unexpected; she tried to order her life so that +there should be no surprises in it. On the contrary Theodora delighted +in the unforeseen. She would have wished that even in heaven she might +have happy surprises--the sudden meeting with an old friend, or good +news from the dear earth still loved and remembered. + +However, she had that hopefulness and virginity of spirit that makes the +best of what cannot be changed, and as the weeks went on she learned to +ignore the ill-will she could not conquer and to bear in silence the +wrongs not to be put right by any explanations. And she soon made many +acquaintances, and a few sincere friends. Among the latter were Dr. +Robertson and his wife, and Mrs. Oliphant, the American. The former had +called on Theodora about ten days after her home-coming and had been +heartily attracted by her intelligence and beauty. The doctor was +passionately fond of good music, and when he noticed the open piano and +the name Mendelssohn on the music above it, he asked in an eager voice: +"You will play for me?" + +"Yes," Theodora answered, "very gladly! My piano is my great friend and +companion. It feels with me in every mood. What shall I play?" + +"The song before you. Mendelssohn can get very near to a musical soul." + +She rose at once, and after a short prelude played in a manner so +masterful as to cause the minister to look at his wife in wonder as her +magnificent voice lifted that pathetic prayer, which has spoken for the +sorrowful and suffering in all ages: + +"O that I had wings like a dove, then would I flee away and be at rest." + +Every note and every word was full of passionate spiritual desire and +tender aspiration, and the music was as if her guardian angel joined her +in it. The doctor was entranced, and Mrs. Robertson rose and was +standing by the singer's side when she ceased. + +"O, my dear, my dear!" she said, "you have gone straight to my heart." + +A long and delightful conversation followed; then Ducie set an exquisite +little service, and gave the company tea and cake and sweetmeats, and +the visit did not terminate for nearly another hour. + +Mrs. Campbell was in a transport of anger. "I was never even asked +after," she complained to her son, "and Dora kept them all of two +hours--such ignorance of social customs--and I could hear them talking +and singing like a crowd of daffing young people." + +"You ought to have joined them, mother." + +"I ought to have been asked to do so, but I was quite neglected." + +A few minutes later Robert said to his wife: "Why did you not send for +mother when the minister called?" + +"Mother was not asked for, and whenever I do send for her she makes a +point of refusing, often very rudely, and I did not wish Dr. Robertson +to be refused in our parlor." + +"Who was mother rude to? It is not her way." + +"To Mrs. Oliphant for one, and there were others." + +"She does not approve of Mrs. Oliphant." + +"I did not know whether she approved of Dr. and Mrs. Robertson. I like +them very much. The doctor was very happy, and Mrs. Robertson told me 'I +had gone straight to her heart.'" + +"Such extravagance of speech! But she is Irish, and the Irish must +exaggerate. They are a most untruthful race." + +"They are an affectionate race, and what is the good of loving people, +if you do not tell them so? They might as well be without such love." + +"Do not be foolish, Dora." + +"Is that foolishness?" + +"Yes." + +"Then once you were very foolish. I have not forgotten the time, when +you continually told me how dearly you loved me. I was very happy then." + +He turned and looked at her, and her beauty conquered him. He took her +to his heart, and said: "I do love you, Dora. Yes, I do love you!" And +then she grew radiant, and joy transfigured her face, and they went in +to dinner together like lovers. + +A little later when Dr. Robertson and his wife were sitting alone they +began to talk of Theodora. "She has a great heart," said Mrs. Robertson, +"and more's the pity." + +"Yes, Kate, more's the pity, if she loves Robert Campbell; for it's +small love she will get in return. Like ivy on a stone wall, she will +obtain only a rigid and niggardly support, and even for that must go +searching all round with humble embraces." + +"You may take back your last two words, Angus. Yonder woman will stand +level with her husband, or not stand with him at all. She would scorn +your humble embraces." + +"I fear she is in trouble already. There were tears in her voice as she +sang." + +"It would have melted the heart of a stone. Trouble? Certainly. How can +she live with those three amazing women, and be out of trouble?" + +"Well, Kate, the key of life which opens all its doors, and answers all +its questions, is not 'how' or 'why' or even 'I wish' or 'I will.' It is +_I must_. She must live with them. She must, she must, she must; and +she'll do it." + +"She will not do it long. Mind what I say. She will strive till she is +weary, and then she must leave him--or else drift on a sorrowful sea +like a dismasted ship." + +"She believes in God--a believer in God never does that." + +"Then she will have to leave him. Who could stand the ill-natured +nagging of those women, and his sullen, masterful ways? No one." + +"She must! The tooth often bites the tongue, but they keep together." + +"Poor woman! It is a hard road for her to walk on." + +"It is the ground that we do _not_ walk on, that supports us. Faith +treads on the void, and finds the rock beneath. She has found that +rock, or I am greatly mistaken." + +"I feel sure she has found it. Angus, if you could get her to sing that +prayer, 'O For the Wings of a Dove' in church, say, while the Elders +went round with the collection boxes, it would do a deal of good. It +would touch every heart--they wouldn't mind their pennies, they might +even give a crown where they have given a shilling." + +"That is a capital idea, but I should have to ask Campbell for his +consent." + +"He does not own her voice." + +"He thinks he does, and he must have his say-so. But if she could touch +every heart as she touched ours what a gracious gift of song it would +be!" + +"I believe she could. Ask Robert Campbell." + +"I will." + +Under all circumstances Robert would have received the minister with +extreme courtesy, for a Scotchman can no more afford to quarrel with the +dominie of his Kirk than a Catholic in Rome can afford to quarrel with +the Pope in Rome. Also, he had a great respect for Dr. Robertson, and +when he was told of the sermon he intended to preach on the following +Sabbath he was very proud of the confidence, and still prouder to be of +service in promoting its effectiveness. + +"Of course," he said, "Mrs. Campbell would sing. Why not? Was he not +always happy to oblige the doctor and benefit the church?" And it never +struck him that he was assuming an absolute right in Theodora's voice, +and in her use of it; because he actually felt what he assumed. Nor did +he see that in giving her voice to benefit the church he was thinking +solely of the church as a religious society, and the souls composing it +were never for a moment in his calculation. Both of these facts were +clear to the minister, and he hoped that when Campbell saw and felt the +effects of his concession he would be disposed to give some thanks to +Theodora, and so get a glimpse of what he owed to a wife so good, so +clever, and so lovely. + +It was remarkable that he never named the subject to his mother, and to +Theodora he only spoke of the minister's visit, and asked if he had +called on her. + +"Yes," she answered, "I made all arrangements with him." She did not +dare to express her pleasure, for in that case she knew by experience he +would probably cancel his concession. She permitted him to think she was +willing to oblige the doctor, because he wished it, and then he felt it +necessary to say that it was for "the good of the church, and that he +had only consented to her singing for that reason." + +Two days afterwards Mrs. Robertson called on Theodora and they went out +together, nor did Theodora return until after ten o'clock. At that hour +Mrs. Campbell sent for her son to discuss Dora's absence with him. She +found him satisfied, instead of angry, as she supposed he would be. + +"It is quite right, mother," he said. "Dora is dining with the +Robertsons. I was invited, but I preferred to remain at home." + +"You did the proper thing. Neither I nor your sisters were invited. I +consider our neglect a great insult." + +"No insult was intended, mother. They are infatuated with Dora, and I +dare say have invited some of the congregation to meet her. Why, there +she is now!" he exclaimed, "and I wonder who is with her?" + +"I advise you to find out." + +He followed the advice, and went to the open door. Theodora was in the +embrace of Mrs. Oliphant. "You darling," she was saying, "I can hardly +wait for Sunday. O, how are you, Mr. Campbell? You ought to have been +with us. We have had the loveliest evening with your adorable wife--but +we have brought her safe home." + +Then Mr. Oliphant laughed: "You ought to keep at her side, Campbell. +Every man o' us would like to run awa' with her." + +He said the words jokingly, but Robert was very angry, and Theodora felt +that his permission for the Sunday singing wavered in the balance. But +the danger passed in his criticisms of the offender, whom he stigmatized +as "the most uxorious and foolish of husbands." + +Except to Theodora, he did not name the subject of her singing on the +coming Sabbath, and as neither Mrs. Campbell nor her daughters spoke of +it, Theodora followed the example set her and kept silence. When Sunday +arrived, she went quietly out of the house while the rest were dressing, +and at the last moment Robert joined his family, saying: "I will go to +church with you this morning, mother." He gave no reason for his +conduct, nor did Mrs. Campbell ask for one. She concluded that Theodora +was sick, or that more likely she had had a dispute with her husband +about the service, and in consequence had refused to attend it. + +As it happened Mrs. Campbell had only heard Theodora sing from a +distance, or behind closed doors, and Isabel was very near in the same +ignorance of her voice and its ability. Christina was more likely to +recognize the singer, for she had frequently heard her, but she did not, +or at least only in a vague and uncertain manner. She wished Theodora +had been present, that she might learn her deficiencies, and she +wondered that two people should have voices so similar; but she +reflected, that her own voice was so like Isabel's that her mother +frequently mistook them. But Robert knew, and his heart melted to the +passionate stress and longing of her cry: "O that I had wings like a +dove," and thrilled to the joy and triumph of the rest hoped for. + +The whole church was moved as if it had been one spirit and one heart. +The place seemed to be on fire with feeling, and as the marvellous voice +died away in peace and rest a strange but mighty influence swept over +the usually cold and stolid congregation. Some wept silently, some bowed +their heads, and a few stood and looked upward, while the soft, rolling +notes of the organ died away in the benediction. Very quietly and +speechlessly the congregation dispersed. All went home with the song in +their hearts, but not until they sat down in their homes did they begin +to talk together of the psalm and the singer. Even Mrs. Campbell was +touched and pleased, and she took a great delight in praising the +singer, as they sat at lunch. + +"That _was_ singing," she said, "and the finest singing I ever heard. +Many people pretend to sing who know nothing about it and have no voice +to sing with--but, thank God, for once in my life, I have heard +singing." + +"It sounded very like Dora's voice," said Christina. + +"You are mistaken," replied Isabel, "besides, the voice we heard this +morning is a finely trained voice--I mean, as voices are trained for +oratorio and public singing. It was a soprano, and soprano voices are +very much alike." + +No one cared to dispute Isabel's explanation and the conversation +drifted to the sermon from the same psalm. "It was a good sermon," said +Mrs. Campbell, "but people will forget it in the song." + +"The song was the sermon to-day," said Isabel. + +"The sermon was water, the song was wine," said Robert. + +"I wish you would get the music, Dora. I am sure you could learn to sing +it very well," said Christina; and Theodora smiled and answered, "I will +try and get the music, if you wish, Christina." + +"No, no!" cried Mrs. Campbell. "I would not have the memory of this +morning's song spoiled for a great deal." + +"Nor I, mother," added Isabel. "Would you, Robert?" + +The better man had possession of Robert at that hour and he replied with +a strong fervor: + +"No, not for anything. It is one memory I shall hope to keep green as +long as I live." He looked at Theodora, and if any there had had eyes to +see, they might have read the secret in their beaming faces. + +In their own parlor Robert was more enthusiastic than Theodora had seen +him for a long time. "You have often gone to my heart, Dora," he said, +"but this morning you touched my soul." And they were very happy +together. This was the man Theodora loved. This was the man to whom she +had given her heart and hand. Oh, how was she to keep this Robert +Campbell always to the fore? + +To do any great thing with the heart of another, you must vivisect your +own, and this truth Theodora had to practise continually. Her life was +one of such painful self-denial as left all its little pleasant places +bare and barren; but she knew that in this way only could peace be +bought, and she paid the price, excepting always, when it struck at her +self-respect or violated her conscience. For she had constant +opportunities of seeing that the spirit of submission carried too far +was responsible for most of the misery and wrongs of the household; +since despotism is never the sin of one, but comes from the servility +of those around the despot. And as Robert was not always indifferent, +but had frequent visitings from his better self, she made the most of +these happy times, and took the envy and hatred of the rest as she took +wet weather, or wind, or snow, or any other exhibition of the Higher +Powers. For if training and education had made Theodora self-respectful, +it had also made her avoid everything like self-indulgence. + + "_To her there never came the thought, + That this her life was meant to be + A pleasure house, where peace unbought + Should minister to pride and glee._ + + "_Sublimely she endured each ill + As a plain fact, whose right or wrong + She questioned not; confiding still + That it would last--not over long._ + + "_Willing from first to last to take + The mysteries of her life as given, + Leaving her time-worn soul to slake + Its thirst, in an undoubted heaven._" + +So the weeks passed on in a kind of armed truce with short intervals of +satisfying happiness, whenever Robert chose to make her happy. She still +took her breakfast alone, and now and then Robert, allured by the pretty +appetizing table on the cheerful hearth, drank his coffee and ate a +rasher of bacon beside her. Then how gay and delighted she was, and as +on such occasions he gave up his porridge and salt herring, McNab, in +order to pleasure the mistress whom she loved, always found him some +dainty to atone for his deprivation. And the meal was so good and +cheerful, that it was a wonderful thing he did not join his wife +constantly. + +It was now getting near to Christmas, but none of the family had yet +ventured to tell Mrs. Campbell the truth concerning the singing in the +church although she frequently spoke of it. In fact, ever since that +Sabbath she had made a point of sending a note to Theodora whenever she +heard the piano. "I know practising from music," she said in every note, +"and I do not like practising." Only Christina being present at the +practising interfered with the message, and many times it had been sent +when it was the caller who was doing the practising. The order was +always obeyed, lest it should be more offensively repeated, and to no +one but Mrs. Oliphant did Theodora confide her reason for closing the +instrument so promptly. The message elicited from Mrs. Oliphant scornful +laughter, and the three women listening for the manner of its reception +were not surprised. + +"They are laughing at my order," said Mrs. Campbell, "what dreadful +manners Americans do have!" + +"Dora's manners are equally bad. She had no business to show her the +note," said Isabel. + +"Dora is English; what can you expect?" + +"Dora ought to send for me when she has company," said Christina, "then +she would be allowed to practise, would she not, mother?" + +"Christina, I am always willing to sacrifice myself for my children, and +you profess to learn something from her playing." + +"I do, and I love to hear her play and sing. Dora has been kind to me, +she isn't half bad." + +"Well, Christina, in all proper things I consult my children's pleasure, +rather than my own comfort." + +Isabel said nothing, and yet Theodora had made many whist parties for +her pleasure, persuading Robert to invite to them such unmarried men as +would be suitable partners for his sisters in life, as well as at the +whist table. These parties had always terminated with supper and music, +Christina being the principal, and generally the only performer. She had +taken both of the sisters out with her, dressed them for entertainments, +shown them how to dress themselves, and taught them those little tricks +of the toilet, which are to women at once so innocent and so +indispensable. Many times these services had been rendered cheerfully +when she was sick or depressed, but neither of the girls had any +conception of a kindness, except as it related to themselves--how it +benefited their looks or their feelings, and what results would accrue +to them from it. Never once had they expressed a sense of obligation for +any favor done them. They took every kindness as their right, for they +heard their mother constantly assert: "Dora could never do enough for +them." + +"She has forced herself into our family without our desire or +permission," she would say, "and if she could only understand it she is +a great wrong and annoyance to us. If she _does_ teach Christina music +and singing and French, and entertain you both now and then, it is her +bounden duty to do that, and more. She is a born schoolmistress anyway, +and no doubt feels quite at home teaching you any little thing she can." + +This was not a happy life for Theodora, but she had chosen it, and our +choices are our destiny. It was now her duty to make the best of it, and +if Robert was only a little loving and just, her fine spirits and +hopeful temper made her gay as a bird in spring. Her enthusiasms were +incomprehensible to the three women, they were even repulsive; for +neither the selfish, ill-tempered mother, nor the selfish, servile +daughters, could understand that joy, which, coming from the inner life, +is illimitably glad and hopeful, "something afar from the sphere of our +sorrow." + +But even Robert was now ashamed of his enthusiasms as a lover, as a +married man he considered them quite out of place. They had served their +purpose and ought to be retired from the sensible atmosphere of daily +life. So he allowed the noblest and tenderest symbols of love to die of +cruel neglect, and his occasional breakfasts with Theodora were the only +remnant of his once passionate personal love. He was quite willing to +consider Dora as belonging to the whole family, and he smiled grimly if +he remembered the days in which he was intensely jealous even of her own +father and mother's claim on her affection. + +One great reason for Theodora's life being so troubled by dislike and +unrest was doubtless because her angel was not, and could not, be +friends with the angels of her new connections. They had no business to +be in the same house. They got in each other's way and provoked +friction. And though physical crowding is bad, spiritual crowding is +much worse. Theodora had been well aware of the antagonism of her angel +to her marriage with Robert Campbell. By intuitions, presentiments, +omens, dreams, and even by clairaudient words, she had been warned of +matrimonial troubles. + +But she had an invincible faith in her influence over her intended +husband, and as for a fight with others, or with circumstances, of +neither was she afraid. She had always won her way triumphantly. She +believed in God, she believed in herself, and she believed in humanity. +The calibre of a Scotch family composed of three-fourths women, was a +combination she had never seen, never heard of, never read of, and could +not possibly imagine. + +Yes, she had been abundantly counselled, and she remembered especially +the last warning that she received before her marriage. She was at the +Salutation Hotel on Lake Windermere, standing at the window of her room +looking over the lovely scene. All Nature was calm as a resting wheel, +the sky full of stars; all the mystery and majesty of earth, the lake, +the woods, the mountains encompassed her. And as she stood there musing +on the past, and on the future as connected with Robert Campbell, the +voice she knew so well pleaded with her for the last time. + +"_Are you able?_" it asked. + +"Yes," she answered softly but audibly. + +"_The fight will be hard._" + +"I shall win it." + +"_Though as by fire!_" + +Then she was alone, and she felt strangely desolate and afraid. + +For though one come from the dead, the soul self-centred and confident +in its own wisdom will not believe. Then it can only learn its life's +lesson by those cruel experiences from which its good angel would so +gladly have saved it. + +"_Though as by fire! Though as by fire!_" Often she had thought of that +prophecy since her marriage, when she had been forced day after day to +say with David: + +"They have spoken against me with a lying tongue. + +"They compassed me about with words of hatred, and fought against me +without cause. + +"For my love they are my adversaries, and they have rewarded me evil for +good, and hatred for my love." + +She was sitting alone one afternoon, and very weary and disconsolate +after a morning of petty slights, and unkind words, when Robert entered. +He was earlier than usual and more responsive to her smile of welcome. + +"I am so glad to see you, Robert, so glad! I did not expect you for an +hour." + +"The minister called on me this afternoon, and I returned to the city +with him. He wants you to sing, Dora, at the New Year's service. He is +going to preach from the first verse of the fourteenth of Job: 'Man that +is born of a woman is of few days and full of trouble.' He says the +sermon will necessarily be solemn and warning, so he wishes you to sing +something that lifts up the heart and looks hopefully forward." + +"Are you willing that I should sing, Robert?" + +"Yes, I should like you to do so." + +"Then what could be better than Job's triumphant confession, '_I know +that my Redeemer liveth_'?" + +"That is the very thing! You sung it once in Sheffield. I have never +forgotten it." + +"Has your mother been told about my singing, '_O that I had wings like a +dove_'?" + +"No. I have never found a good opportunity to tell her. I knew she would +feel it much. As soon as you have settled the matter with the doctor, I +will tell her of both together." + +The next morning Dr. Robertson called to see Theodora, and was delighted +with her selection. He did not stay long, but Mrs. Campbell was deeply +offended because she was neither personally visited by him, nor yet +invited by Theodora to meet him in her parlor. The lunch table was made +a fiery furnace for her, and she had not the physical power to resist +the evil. Assailed by a sudden faintness, she was obliged to leave the +room. + +"Dora looks ill," said Christina. + +"She is always complaining lately. She had Dr. Fleming in the house +twice last week, had she not, Isabel?" Isabel sighed deeply, and +Christina absently nodded assent. She was counting the custard cups and +considering the best way to appropriate the one intended for Theodora. + +Jepson, however, had noticed the white face and unsteady steps of the +sick woman and assisted her to her own apartments. On his return he was +confronted by the angry face of his mistress. She laid down her knife +and fork with a clash and asked: + +"How dared you leave the room, Jepson? I hired you to wait on the Miss +Campbells and myself." + +"I thought Mrs. Campbell looked very ill, ma'am." + +"You are here to obey orders, not to think. And _I_ am Mrs. Campbell, +the other is Mrs. Robert. Do you understand?" + +"Yes, ma'am." + +For some hours Theodora lay on the sofa in deep sleep, or in some other +form of oblivion. She came back to consciousness with the feeling of one +shipwrecked on a dark, desolate land, and after a little sobbing cry, +went upstairs to try and dress for dinner. A depressing anxiety, a +horror of the great darkness from which she had just returned was on +her, and as soon as her exhausting toilet was over, she went back to the +parlor, and lifting a book sat down at a small table with it in her +hand. + +Isabel, who was with her mother, heard both the ascent and descent, and +directed her attention to it. "Dora has been dressing for dinner," she +said. "Her sickness has not lasted long." + +"There was nothing the matter with her." + +"You are looking very well, mother, but I must change my gown. Why not +go and question Dora about the minister's visit? She ought to tell you +the why and the wherefore of it." + +"She _shall_ tell me. I will make the inquiry at once." + +Theodora was sitting with her elbows on the small table, her head in her +hands and the open pages of the book below her heavy eyes, when the door +was imperiously opened and Mrs. Campbell entered. + +"You have got over your impromptu attack, I see, very readily." + +"I feel better than I did a few hours ago." + +"Why did Dr. Robertson call on you this morning?" + +"He called on business--not socially." + +"Money as usual, I suppose." + +"He did not name money." + +"Then what did he name?" + +"His business." + +"And what was his business?" + +"I cannot tell you--yet." + +"So you are the doctor's confidant! You are the doctor's adviser! You +are set up before me, about the doctor's business. You! You, indeed! +Have you argued the matter out with the devil, as to how far you can go +with a minister?" + +"I never argue with the devil. 'Get thee behind me' is enough for him." + +"I perfectly think scorn of you and your pretensions. I suppose the +doctor is trying to save your soul!" + +"My soul is saved." + +"You are an impertinent huzzy!" + +"I do not intend to be impertinent--and I do not deserve such a +contemptuous word as huzzy." + +"You are a fifty-fold huzzy! You are not reading. Lift your eyes and +look at me!" + +"I would rather not." + +"I say, look at me. Why do you keep your eyes dropped? Do you think +yourself beautiful in that attitude? You are full of tricks." + +Then Theodora lifted her eyes and looked steadily at her tormentor. They +were pleading and reproachful, and full of tears. "I should like to be +alone," she said slowly, "I am not well." + +"I wish to know the minister's business." + +"I must tell Robert first." + +"I must tell Robert first," cried Mrs. Campbell with mocking mimicry. +"Let me tell you, Robert would rather you never spoke to him! He wishes +you far away--he is sick of you, as I am--he is sorry he ever saw your +face." + +"I do not believe these things. Will you leave me? You are very +cruel--I have not deserved such abuse." Once more she dropped her eyes +on her book, but the letters were blurred and the solid earth seemed +reeling. + +"Give me that book and listen to what I say!" + +There was no answer. + +"Do you hear me? Give me that book." + +Theodora neither spoke nor moved, and in a tragic frenzy of passion Mrs. +Campbell seized the book and flung it to the other end of the room. + +With a shriek, shrill yet weak, Theodora tottered to where it lay with +its pages crumpled against the floor, and in the effort to lift the +volume she fell like one dead beside it. + +Then Ducie screamed for McNab and Jepson, and the two came hurrying in. + +"She flung the Bible across the room! She flung the Bible!" + +"Stop talking, Ducie, and help me get the dress of the poor lady +slackened. Jepson, run for Dr. Fleming." + +"I will if you say so, McNab." + +"Run awa', and don't stand there like a born idiot, then." + +"I will not have a doctor brought here," said Mrs. Campbell in +passionate tones. "I will not have one! There is no necessity for a +doctor. I say----" + +"Say nothing at all, ma'am. Do you ken it was the Bible you flung across +the room? What devil put it into your heart and hand to do the like o' +that unforgiveable sin? I'm feared to be in the room wi' you, mistress. +You'll never dare to pray again, you meeserable woman, you!" + +For a few minutes Mrs. Campbell was really shocked. She went to the +book, straightened out its leaves, and laid it on the table. "I did not +know it was the Bible, McNab," she said. "No one respects the Holy +Scriptures more than I do. I regret----" + +"The deed is done. There's nae good in respecting and regretting now. +Come here and help us to do what we can, till the doctor comes." + +"I will not. It is her fault. She would make an angel sin. I am +innocent, perfectly innocent. My God, what a tribulation the creature +is!" + +"I wouldna name God, if I was you," said McNab scornfully. "Maybe He'll +forget you, if you dinna remind Him o' your sinfu' self." + +"McNab, I give you notice to leave my house at once." + +"That is more like you, Mistress Campbell, but I'm not going out o' this +house till the master says so. I am his hired woman, not yours, thank +God! and I am not feared to speak the Holy Name, as you may well be. +Here's the doctor--thank God again for that mercy! You had better leave +the room, or you'll be getting the words you're well deserving, +mistress." + +"I shall stay just where I am." + +"You're a dour woman; you are that." + +Dr. Fleming entered as the last words were spoken. He brought with him +an atmosphere of help and strength, and barely glancing at Mrs. Campbell +he knelt down beside the sick woman. In a few moments he rose, and +calling Jepson, ordered him to "go to No. 400 Renfrew Street, and bring +back with him Jean Malcolm." + +"I cannot spare Jepson, doctor," said Mrs. Campbell. "It is nearly time +to serve dinner." + +"Do as I tell you, man, and be off at once. Don't waste a moment. Take a +cab." + +"Doctor----" + +"Mrs. Campbell, this is a serious case. We have no time to think of +dinners. I fear there is a slight concussion of the brain." + +Then turning to McNab, he said: "There must be a mattress brought down +here, and I shall want two men to carry the patient upstairs. Have you +men in the house?" + +"No, sir, none worth the name o' men. I'll step over to the hotel and +get a couple o' their porters." + +"That will do." + +"Doctor, if there are any extraordinary arrangements to make, I am Mrs. +Traquair Campbell." + +"I know you, Mrs. Campbell. I have a very true knowledge of you." + +"Then, sir, give your orders to me. What do you wish?" + +"I wish you to leave the room. If your dinner is ready, you had better +eat it. I may want your man for some time." + +"Sir, you are rude. Will you remember this is my house?" + +"It is not your house. It is your son's house, and this lady, I take it, +is his wife. So then, it is her house." + +"Yes, she is my son's wife, more's the pity, more's the shame, more's +the sorrow----" + +"My God, woman! Have you no heart, no pity, no sense of duty to a sick +woman?" As he spoke he rose, and with an angry face and long strides +walked to the door and threw it wide open, uttering only one fierce +word: "_Go!_" + +A better and a more powerful spirit than her own gave this order, and +she perforce obeyed it; but when she reached the dining-room, she threw +herself on the sofa in a frantic passion. + +"I have been insulted," she cried. "I have been insulted shamefully. Oh, +Isabel! that woman will be the death of me!" + +"Perhaps she will die herself, mother. Ducie says she has hurt her brain +in falling--a concussion, she said." + +"Not a bad concussion, though----" + +"No, a slight one, but one never knows, and she is so excitable----" + +Thus they comforted each other until the porters arrived, and went +upstairs for the mattress. Their rough voices and heavy feet, and the +natural confusion attending their business roused Mrs. Campbell and her +daughters to a pitch of distraction, only to be relieved by motion and +loud talking. Walking up and down the room, and striking her large +cruel hands together, Mrs. Campbell was heard above all the confusion +attending the removal of Theodora; and in the midst of this confusion, +Robert came home. + +"Whatever is the matter, Jepson?" he asked in an angry voice. + +"The doctor will tell you, sir. I fear my young mistress is dying." + +He did not answer, but went rapidly to his rooms. They were in the +utmost disorder, the windows open and the rooms empty. He rushed +upstairs then, and Dr. Fleming met him at the door of Theodora's room. + +"Doctor, where is my wife? What is wrong?" + +"She had a long fainting fit, fell heavily, and has, I fear, slight +concussion of the brain." + +"What cause, what reason was there?" + +"Her maid will tell you. I will send her." + +"But I must see my wife first!" + +"You cannot. I shall stay here until I judge it safe to leave her. I +have sent for a competent nurse, and expect her every moment." + +"Surely, doctor--there is no fear--of death." + +"I should not like another lapse of consciousness." + +Robert did not speak. He steadied himself by grasping the baluster, and +the doctor left him, and sent out Ducie. + +"How did this happen, Ducie?" he asked. + +Then Ducie told him everything. She described the way her mistress was +sitting, and the entrance of Mrs. Campbell. She remembered the words, +and the tones in which the conversation had taken place, and the +inability of her mistress to answer the last two questions--the +snatching of the book from the table, and the flinging of it to the end +of the room, and after an emphatic pause she added: "The book was the +Bible, sir." + +Campbell had not spoken a word during Ducie's recital, but at her last +remark he started as if shocked, and then said: "You have told me the +truth, Ducie?" + +"Nothing but the truth. Ask Jepson." + +"I believe you. Go back to your mistress, and as soon as it is possible +tell her I was at the door but not allowed to enter." + +Then he went slowly downstairs, and the talking and exclamations ceased +sharply and suddenly when he entered the dining-room, for his face, and +his intentional silence, was like that which Isabel had not inaptly +compared to a black frost. + +After a short interval, during which he had frozen every one dumb, he +looked steadily at Mrs. Campbell and said: + +"Mother, I am amazed at what I hear." + +"You may well be amazed, Robert," was the answer. "I myself am nearly +distracted," and then she told her story, with much skill and all the +picturesque idioms she fell naturally into when under great emotion. Her +son listened to her as he had listened to Ducie, without question or +comment. He was trying to weigh everything justly, for justice was in +his opinion the cardinal virtue. + +"The dispute arose, then, concerning Dr. Robertson's visit to Theodora?" +he asked. + +"Yes. I had a right to know _why_ he called, and she would not tell me." + +"Theodora had no right to tell you. Out of kindness the reason for his +visit had been kept from you. I will tell you now. He wished Theodora to +sing at the New Year's service, and he called to see what her selection +would be." + +"The organist ought to select the music, not Dora Campbell." + +"Allow me to finish. She chose '_I know that my Redeemer liveth_.'" + +He ceased speaking and took his place at the dinner table. "Order +dinner, Isabel," he added, in a quiet voice. + +Mrs. Campbell was speechless. She was stunned by anger and amazement. +Her lips trembled and her eyes filled with tears--a most extraordinary +exhibition of feeling in her. Isabel with a piteous look directed his +attention to her mother, and he said: + +"Take your chair, mother. I want my dinner. I have had a hard day. The +men at the works are quarrelling and going to strike. I did not require +extra quarrelling at home." + +"I cannot eat, Robert. I will not eat again in this house. I can laugh +at insults from strangers, but when my son connives with his English +wife to deceive me and make me humble myself before her, it is time I +went away--I don't care where to." + +"You have your own house at Saltcoats." + +"It is rented." + +Robert made no remark and the dinner went silently on. Just as it was +finished the doctor asked for Robert, and he left the room to see him. +"Your wife has fallen asleep," he said, "and, Campbell, you must see to +it that she is not awakened for anything less than a fire or an +earthquake." A short conversation followed, and after it Robert went +directly to the library. + +Greatly to his astonishment, his mother followed him there. He laid +aside his cigar, and placed a chair for her. She had now assumed the +only temper likely to influence him, and he was prepared to be amenable +to her plea before she made it. + +"I am sorry, Robert, that you have to bear this trouble. If it was only +me, I would not care. Are you going to turn me and your sisters out of +your house for that strange woman?" + +"That strange woman is my wife. God has told me to leave father and +mother, and cleave unto my wife." + +"It is very hard." + +"Let her alone, and she will not interfere with you." + +"Isabel and Christina know----" + +"Excuse me, she has been very kind and helpful to my sisters. She would +love you all if you would let her." + +"Her singing in the church----" + +"Was a great delight, even to you. We were silent about it, out of +kindness. I will not discuss that subject." + +"Where would you advise us to go?" + +"I do not advise you to go at all." + +"I could not live with your wife if she is going to faint every time she +quarrels with me." + +"Mother, I know all about your quarrel with Theodora. I have heard it +from Jepson and Ducie, and I know what the doctor thinks of it. Allow me +to say your conduct was inexcusable. I would not blame you before the +girls, but that is my opinion." + +"Her silence was so provoking, you don't know, Robert----" + +"I know that no provocation ought to have caused you to make the Bible +the missile of your temper. It was an impious act. I shudder at it." + +"I did not know it was the Bible." + +"Mother, a Bible is known on sight. No other book looks like it. No +form, no shape no color, can hide the Bible. There is a kind of divinity +in this personality of the Book. I have often thought so." + +"I shall sorrow for that act as long as I live, Robert. She made me do +it. Yes, she did!" + +"No, she did not." + +"Why was she reading the Bible at that hour of the day? If it had been +morning or night, I might have thought of it." + +"Theodora reads the Bible at all hours." + +"She does nothing like any one else." + +"Theodora is my wife. I love her. She suits me exactly." + +"And I and your sisters no longer suit you." + +"You are, as I said before, my mother and my sisters. You are Campbells. +That is enough." + +"And, blessed be our ancestors, we are a' pure Campbells! Your father +was o' the Argyle clan, and I was o' the Cawdor clan, but whether +Argyle, Cawdor, Breadalbane, or Laudon, we are a' Campbells. We a' wear +the wild myrtle and we hae a' the same battle-cry, '_Wild Cruachan!_' +and we a' hae hated and loved the same folk and the same things, and +even if I had nae ither claim on yen, I would only require to say, +'Robert Campbell, Margaret Campbell is needing ye.'" + +"You are my mother. That claim includes all claims." + +"Doubly dear for being a Campbell mother." + +"Yes. I am glad and proud of that fact." + +Then she stretched out her hand, and he clasped and held it firmly, as +he walked with her to the door. + +"Good-night, mother!" he said. "I must go to Dora now. We will drop this +day out of our memories." + +Stepping proudly to the lilt of her Campbell eulogy, she went to her +daughters with flashing eyes and a kindling face, and after a few +moments of thrilling silence said: + +"I hae got my way, girls, by the name o' the Campbells. _Dod!_ but it's +the great name! It unlocked his heart like a pass-key--yet I had to +stoop a wee. I had to stoop in order to conquer." + +"Mother, you always manage Robert." + +"I ne'er saw the man I couldna manage, that is, if he was a sober man; +but I'll tak' the management out o' her--see if I don't. I'll mak' her +eat the humble pie she baked for me--I'll hae the better o' the English +huzzy yet--I'll sort her, when I get the right time. I can do naething +o' an extreme nature just yet. It has been a calamitous day, girls, +morning and night. Now, go awa' to your ain rooms, I be to think the +circumstances weel over." + +"Mother, you are a wonderful woman," said Christina. + +"Also a very discreet woman," added Isabel. + +And the old lady walked to the sideboard, filled a glass with wine, +lifted it upwards, and nodding to her daughters, said in a low but +triumphant voice: + +"_Here's to the Campbells! Wha's like us?_" + +At the same moment Robert Campbell was stepping proudly upstairs with a +heart full of racial pride. He had forgotten the ironworks. He was a +Campbell of the Argyle clan, he was kin to all the Breadalbanes, and +Cawdors, and Loudons. He was a Campbell, and all the glory of the large +and powerful family was his glory. At that moment he heard the dirl of +the bagpipes and felt the rough beauty of the thistle, and knew in his +heart of hearts, that he was a son of Scotland, an inheritor of all her +passions and traditions, her loves and her hatreds, and glad and proud +to be so favored. + +But even at this critical hour of his wife's life, he could not be much +blamed, for _all is race_. There is no other truth, because it includes +all others. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE NAMING OF THE CHILD + + +It was four weeks before Theodora could leave her room, and for long +afterwards she was an invalid. But in her sickness she had peace, and +the solacing company of her friends, Mrs. Robertson and Mrs. Oliphant; +and as the winter passed her health and strength and beauty returned to +her. This renewed vitality was indeed so certain that the announcement +of the Easter services contained a promise that Mrs. Campbell would sing +some suitable solo. + +At the breakfast table on Easter Sunday, Robert Campbell spoke of this +event to his family. + +"Theodora will sing at this morning's service, mother," he said. + +"The minister has already made fuss enough about the circumstance. There +is no necessity for you to go over the news." + +"I think you had better not go to church this morning." + +"I assure you I intend to go--for your sake. And am I to be denied the +comfort of my Easter sermon, because of a song which I shall not listen +to?" + +"Please yourself. This time you have been warned." + +"I shall do my duty, that always pleases me. And I need no warnings. I +am not a creature made of nerves and fancies. I am afraid of no woman." + +"Christina, as you are so fond of music, Theodora will take you with her +to the organ-loft if you wish." + +"O, brother, how happy I shall be!" + +"Christina Campbell, you will sit decently in our own pew with your +sister and myself." + +"Poor Christina!" said Robert, and he laid his hand kindly on her +shoulder as he passed. + +"Poor Robert! Say that, and you say the truth," answered Mrs. Campbell. + +It was a glorious day, the church and even the aisles were crowded and +the doctor preached the finest sermon of his long pastorate. His tall, +stately form, his piercing eyes, his thin face--austere but tender--were +never so immediate and so solemnly authoritative, and every heart +thrilled as in a grand resonant voice he cried: + +"_Now is Christ risen from the dead, and become the firstfruits of them +that slept._" + +His preaching was usually logical, invasive, not to be forgotten, but +this morning all he said was vitalized by his own lively, living faith. +He had caught the very spirit of Paul, and was carried by it far beyond, +and above all arguments and sequences, until his glowing climax could +find no grander words than: + +"_Now is Christ risen from the dead, and become the firstfruits of them +that slept._" + +To these words he emphatically closed the Testament, and there were a +few moments of profound, sensitive silence. Then, like a lark mounting +heaven-ward, Theodora burst into the triumphant melody: + +"_I know that my Redeemer liveth!_" + +It was an angelic "Amen" to that old sanguine assurance, which possesses +so immovably the heart of humanity. The ecstasy of hope, the surety of +faith, the glory of man's destiny filled with unspeakable joy the whole +building, and many of the reverent souls in it had momentary experience +of + + "_That freer step, that fuller breath, + That wide horizon's grander view, + That sense of life that knows no death, + That life that maketh all things new._" + +For the singer had filled every note of the immortal music with her own +beautiful, happy soul, and the congregation--old and young--went to +their homes loving her. + +Robert's heart burned within him, for while sharing the enthusiasm of +the crowd he had also his personal delight in the knowledge that this +dear, clever woman was his wife, and that she loved him. He went to the +foot of the gallery stairs and waited there for her. He clasped her hand +and looked into her face with beaming eyes as the elders and deacons +gathered round her with eloquent thanks, and all the way home he forgot +every one but Theodora. + +A few days after Easter Sunday, Robert came home earlier than usual, +but he entered his wife's presence with such a pleasant countenance, +that she rose smiling and went to meet him. + +"I have come to tell you something I hope will please you, Dora," he +said. "Mr. Oliphant has taken a furnished villa at Inverkip, and there +is another to let a few hundred yards distant. Inverkip is so near +Glasgow, I could run down to you frequently--always on Friday or +Saturday until Monday. What do you say, if I take the vacant villa?" + +"O, Robert, I should be delighted!" + +"Then I will hire it for the season, and you can have your piano and +books and what other things you wish easily shipped there. Consult Mrs. +Oliphant, she will advise you just what to do." + +"Dear Robert, you make me more happy than I can tell." + +"And the Oliphants will be delighted you are going to be near them. +There may be some nice families there, and it is not unlikely Dr. +Robertson will be of the number." + +All came to pass like a wish, and early in April Theodora was +comfortably settled at Inverkip, and the Oliphants and Dr. Robertson +soon followed her. Inverkip was hardly a fashionable summer resort, but +it was pleasant and secluded, and also beautifully situated--facing +Inellen, and the slopes of Cowal, with a fine background of mountains. + +After a winter in dark, wet, bitter Glasgow, the country in April was +like Paradise. Robert went down with her one lovely Friday, Ducie and +two other servants, with such furniture and ornaments as they thought +necessary, having preceded them nearly a week. So the villa was in +comparative order and a perfect little dinner awaited them. Theodora +experienced a child's enchantment; her simple, eager surprise, her deep +sense of the wonder and beauty of the brooding spring, and her +delightful expression of it, went to Robert's heart. For her tender eyes +were laughing with boundless good humor, her lips parted as if forced to +speak by the inner fulness of her happy heart, and he saw in her + + --"_a soul + Joying to find itself alive, + Lord over Nature, lord of the visible earth, + Lord of the senses five._" + +"There is even a taste of green things in the air, Robert," she said; +"and look at the trees! They are misty with buds and plumes, and tufts +and tassels; and the larches and pines are whispering like a thousand +girls. O, it is heavenly! And listen to the waters running and leaping +down the mountains! It is a tongue of life in the lonely places," and as +she passed the open piano, she stood still, touched a few notes, and +sang in a captivating, simple manner: + + "_O the springtime! the springtime! + Who does not know it well? + When the little birds begin to build, + And the buds begin to swell,_ + + _When the sun and the clouds play hide and seek, + And the lambs are softly bleating; + And the color mounts to the maiden's cheek, + At her lover's tender greeting,-- + In the springtime, in the joyous springtime._" + +Then Robert stayed her simple song, saying: "Let us go and walk in the +garden while I smoke my cigar." And she went gladly, and they walked and +talked together until the soft gray afternoon was verging to purple and +red on the horizon. + +That night her heart was too full of hope and sweet content to let her +sleep. She had not been as happy for many months. She had not been as +hopeful. She told herself this detached life was all that was required +to secure Robert's affection, and that six months of it would make him +impatient of any intrusion into the sacredness of his home. And she was +full of sweet, innocent plans to increase and settle certainly and +firmly the treasure of his love. They kept her waking, so she rose long +before morning, and, opening a casement, looked out into the dusky night +full of stars. She sat there, watching Nature in those ineffable moments +when she is dreaming, until the cold white light of the dawning showed +her the waning moon blue in the west. + +The next day Robert went fishing, and Theodora put in order the china, +crystal, and fine damask, and the books and ornaments she had brought +down to Inverkip. Robert praised what she had done, vowing she would +make the best of housekeepers; and the evening and the next day were +altogether full of love and sweet content. + +Then Robert went back to Glasgow and business, and Mr. and Mrs. Oliphant +and Dr. Robertson's family arrived. The young wife visited and helped +her friends, and they spent long, pleasant evenings at each other's +houses. Theodora said to herself: "Things are not going as badly with me +as I thought, and I wonder if we ever know if bad is bad, or good is +good." + +Many happy weeks followed this initial one and Theodora was grateful for +every pleasant hour, for she was facing the trial and the glory of +maternity and she wished her child's prenatal influences to be favorable +on every side. The social life of Inverkip could not in its present +conditions be called fashionable, and that was a good thing, for few +women can go into fashionable society without catching its fashionable +insanity, whatever it may be at the time. Theodora spent many quiet, +delightful hours with her friends the Oliphants and Robertsons, but her +chief pleasure she took from the hand of Nature. + +Every fine day she was up among the great hills, and it is a bad heart +that is not purified by walking on them. She was passionately fond of +birds, and had the power to attract them to her. Morning and evening she +fed at her dining-room window + + "_The bird that man loves best, + The pious bird with scarlet breast, + The little English robin._" + +They crowded the sweet briar bush that grew beside the window, and +praised and thanked her in the sweetest songs mortal ever heard. The +blue cushat's "croodle" and its mournful love monologue moved her to +sympathetic tears. She was sure the pretty faithful creature had a +forgetful, or unkind mate. The swallows cradling themselves in the air, +and chattering so amiably; the tiny wren's quick, short song; the fond +and faithful bullfinch couples; the honest, respectable thrushes; the +pilfering blackbirds; the nightingale's solemn music in the night; the +lark's velvety, supple, indefatigable song in the early morning--these, +and many more of the winged voices of the firmament, she understood; but +to the humble, poorly-clad lark, she gave an ardent affection. To her it +was a bird of heaven, living on love and light, singing for half-an-hour +without a second's pause, rising vertically a thousand yards as she +sang, without losing a note, and sending earthward exquisite waterfalls +of song. + +In this sane and peaceful life, month after month went onward +delightfully, while she waited in the fulness of health and hope for the +child which God would give her. During these months Robert also had been +happy. Now and then there had been invasions of the lower man, but in +the main he was joyous and amiable, thoughtful for her comfort, and +delighted to share all her hopes and pleasures. He had insisted on his +mother and sisters going to the Bridge of Allan for the summer months, +had given Jepson and Mrs. McNab holiday, and practically closed the +Glasgow house until September. And he had found Inverkip so pleasant, +that he was even more with Theodora than his promise demanded. + +One day near the end of July Mrs. McNab came to Inverkip and called on +Theodora, who was delighted to see her. In a few minutes she began to +take off her bonnet and shawl. "I hae been thinking things o'er," she +said, "and I hae made up my mind to stay wi' you the next four +weeks--for there's nane that I can see about this house fit to take my +place--a wheen lilting lasses, tee-heeing and giggling as if life was a +dance-hall." + +"They are nice, good girls, McNab." + +"They may be, but they are flighty and nervous, and they hae no +experience. I am going to take care o' you and the house mysel'. When +you are sick----" + +"McNab, I am in splendid health." + +"That's a' right. Splendid health you have, and splendid health you will +require, and some one to keep people out o' the house that arena wanted +near it. I am not going awa', so you needna speak the word. Is your ain +mother coming to you?" + +"She cannot. They will have to move next month." + +"Weel, then, you arena to be fretted wi' any other mother, and it will +take an extraordinar' woman--like mysel'--to be all you want, and to +fend off all you don't want. I am gey fond o' newborn babies--poor wee +things, shipwrecked on a cold, bad world--and if there isna some +sensible kind-hearted body wi' your bairn, they will be trying their +auld world tricks wi' it. I shall stay here and see the bonnie wee thing +isna left to their mercy." + +"What do you mean? You frighten me, McNab." + +"I mean, that if the bairn is left to any auld-farrant nurse, she will +wash it in whiskey as soon as it comes into the world, and there is nae +doubt in my mind, that the spirit isna pleasant to the tender skin o' +the poor wean." + +"Oh, McNab! what a dreadful custom!" + +"Weel, it is an auld, auld custom, and though some are giving it up, +there are mair that stick to it. If Mrs. Traquair Campbell should be +here, I'm feared the whiskey bottle would be gey close to the washbowl. +And you wouldna like it." + +"I would not permit it." + +"How would you help it? Tell me that. The only time you managed that +woman you had to nearly die to do it, and I'm not clear that you got the +better o' her then." + +"She will not be here, McNab. She will not be asked." + +McNab snapped her fingers. "'Asked,' is it? She will walk into this +house as if it was her ain. 'It is my son's house,' she will say, and +then she'll proceed to use her son's house as if the de'il had sent her +to destroy everything that belongs to other folk; and day and night +she'll make quarrelling and misery. That's Mrs. Traquair Campbell's way, +and the hale o' her brood is like her." + +"Now, McNab, you know Mr. Robert Campbell is very different. You must +not speak ill of my husband." + +"No, ma'am. There's two Robert Campbells. Ane o' them is weel worth the +love you're giving him; the other is like the auld man that tormented +the Saints themsel's. He'll get kicked out some day, nae doubt o' it." + +"Mr. Campbell told me he had given you a holiday until the first of +September. He spoke very well of you." + +"I have had mair holiday than I want now." + +"Where were you?" + +"I was in Edinburgh, seeing the world and the ways o' it." + +"What did you think of the world and its ways?" + +"I dinna think them fit to talk about. I'll go now, and give things a +bit sort up. I'll warrant them requiring the same." + +So McNab got--or rather took--her way, and soon after appeared in the +kitchen in her large white mutch and apron. "Now, lasses," she said in +her most commanding manner, "I am come here on a special invite to keep +you and the house in order during the tribulation o' the mistress. But +you'll find me a pleasant body to live wi', if you behave yoursel's and +let the lads alane. If you don't, you will find you have got to do wi' +the Mischief." + +"The lads, ma'am?" said a smart young lassie; "the lads! We have not a +particle o' use for them--auld or young." + +"What's your name?" + +"Maggie." + +"Weel, Maggie, you are a sensible lass, and you may now make Mistress +McNab--that's mysel'--a cup o' tea, and if there's a slice o' cold beef +or a bit o' meat pie in the house----" + +"There's neither meat nor pie in the house." + +"Then, Maggie, gie me a rizzard haddie wi' my tea. I'm easy pleased +except wi' dinner. A good dinner is a fixed fact wi' me, and when I've +had a cup o' tea I'll feel mair like Flora McNab. At the present hour, +I'm fagged and wastered, and requiring a refreshment. That's sure!" + +At first Theodora did not feel satisfied with McNab's gratuitous offer +of service, but Robert quickly made her so. "I am delighted," he said. +"I have known the woman ever since I can remember. She stood by my +father in his long sickness as faithfully as she stands by you. I can +never be uneasy about my wife if McNab is with her." + +So McNab took the place she had chosen, and the house was soon aware of +her presence. There were more economy, better meals, perfect discipline, +and a refreshing sense of peace and order. For she had a rare power of +ruling, and also of making those ruled pleased to be so. Thus, for two +weeks, Theodora had a sense of pause and rest that was strengthening +both to the inner and outer woman. Then in the secret silence of the +midnight, her fear was turned into joy, for McNab laid her first-born +son in her arms and Robert knelt at her side, his heart brimming with +love and thanksgiving. And had he fully realized the blessing given, he +would have known it was, Thy Kingdom come, from the cradle. + +Surely this great event would make all things new! This was Theodora's +constant thought and hope, and for a while it seemed to do so. But the +readiness with which we come to accept rare and great blessings as +customary is one of the most common and ungrateful of our blasphemies +against the Father from whom all blessings flow. And very soon the +beautiful babe became as usual as the other everyday incidents of life, +to all excepting his mother and McNab. Robert, indeed, was fond and +proud of him, and as long as they remained in Inverkip the little fellow +was something new that belonged to himself in a manner wonderful and +satisfying. + +But with the return of the family to Glasgow, the child lost the charm +of the Inverkip environment. In Traquair House he received even from his +father only the Campbell affection, which had no enthusiasms, no baby +talk, no petting, no foolish admirations. It was almost impossible for +the mother to accept this change of attitude with nonchalance, or even +cheerfulness. She could not withstand the influence of the dull, gray +house, and the toiling, moiling, money-grabbing city, though she felt +intuitively that the influence of both was inimical to her domestic +happiness. For the house was impregnated with the Campbell personality, +so much so that the very apparatus of their daily life had become +eloquent of the moods of those they ministered to; and Theodora often +felt as if the sofas and chairs in their rooms resented her use of them. + +A prepossession of this kind was an unhappy one, and easily affiliated +itself with the spirit of the house, which was markedly a quarrelsome +spirit. Nurtured and indulged for more than two generations, it had +become an inflexible, almost an invincible one. All Theodora's smiling +efforts, all her charms and entreaties had failed to conciliate, or even +appease its grudging resentment. It was a piteous thing that the first +trouble after her return to Glasgow, should be concerning the child. +Robert had been pleased by the assurance of his friends in Inverkip that +his son resembled him in an extraordinary manner. He was himself sure of +this resemblance, though Theodora could only see "that difference in +sameness" often enough pronounced between fathers and sons. + +Mrs. Campbell scouted the idea. She said: "The child had not a single +Campbell feature or trait. He did not even suck his tongue, a trick all +the Campbell babies had, as McNab knew right well. And she understood +there had not been a single Campbell in the room when he was born--an +important and significant mistake that never could be rectified. She +could only say, and she always would say, that the boy was Theodora's +child." + +"I hope he is," answered Robert, who was nettled by the criticism. "He +cannot do better than take after his mother in every way." + +"And I am fairly shocked, Robert," she continued, "that the +child--who's ever it is--hasna yet been baptized. Seven weeks old and +not baptized! I never heard the like. My children were covenanted +Christians before they were two weeks old. It was my first thought for +them." + +"Well, mother, we wanted to be quite sure of the name. A boy's name +means much to him when he becomes a man." + +"There is but one name proper for the child, that is his grandfather's." + +"Do you mean Traquair?" asked Robert. + +"Yes, Traquair--a fine family name." + +Theodora looked entreatingly at Robert, and he understood her dissent +and shared it. + +"Mother," he answered, "I have a great objection to Traquair." + +"Objection! Pray, why?" + +"It was not a fortunate name for my father. It is not a good business +name." + +"My father was a Traquair, and he made a great deal of money." + +"Your father was called Donald Traquair. That is different. Traquair is +a good family name, but it is not a good Christian name." + +"We could call him Donald," said Theodora. "Donald is a good name, +though I think Robert likes David best of all." + +"David!" ejaculated Mrs. Campbell with anger. "I will have no David +Campbells in this house! I will not suffer my grandson to be called +David. It was like you to propose it." + +"I thought it would please you. I am quite willing my son should be +called David." + +"I think David is a very good name," said Robert, but his opinion was +given with that over-decision which cowardice assumes when it forces +itself to assertion. + +"To have a David Campbell in the house will be a great annoyance to me," +continued Mrs. Campbell. "It will be enough to make me hate the child." + +Then Theodora left the room. She felt that the argument had gone as far +as it was likely to be reasonable. In a short time Robert followed her +and his face wore a look of vexation and perplexity. + +"Have you decided on the name yet, Robert?" she asked. + +"No." + +"Why not call him after yourself?" + +"Because in the course of time I should likely be compelled to write +'senior' after my own name. I do not care to look forward to that. +Mother has set her mind on Traquair." + +"It is the only Scotch name I object to. It has not one noble +association. If you say Robert, you think of Robert Bruce, and Robert +Burns, and a score of other great men. Call him Donald, or Dugald, or +Duncan, or Angus, or Hector, or Alexander, they are all Christian names +and will not subject the little lad when he goes among the boys and men, +to mockery. Traquair will give them two objectionable nicknames--Tray, +which is a dog's name, and Quair will easily slip into queer. Think of +it--Tray Campbell, or Queer Campbell. It will not do, Robert." + +"No. Traquair will not do. It will not do." + +"There is one good reason for not calling the child Robert, not the +'senior' reason at all. I want you to keep and make famous your own +name. You are really a good natural orator. I noticed your speech, and +its delivery at Dr. Robertson's dinner, when we were at Inverkip. It was +the best speech made. It was finely delivered. You are rich and going to +be richer; why not cultivate your gift, and run for Parliament? No one +can put political views into a more sensible and eloquent speech than +Robert Campbell." + +"I think you overrate my abilities, Dora," replied Robert, but he spoke +with a kind of musing satisfaction. + +"No, you could become a good speaker, and if you wish, I am sure you may +write M. P. after your name. Why not decide on David? You love your big +brother yet. You never speak of him without emotion. He will come back +to you, I am sure. And how proud you will be to say: 'I never forgot +you, David. I called my first-born son after you.'" + +"You are right, Dora, you are right. The boy's name is David. I have +said it and it shall be so. Mother must give way. She must remember for +once, that we have some feelings and prejudices as well as herself." + +At that moment Ducie entered with the child, and Theodora took him in +her arms and said: "Ducie, the baby is to be called David." Then she +kissed the name on his lips and he opened his blue eyes and smiled at +her. + +The next Sabbath the child was solemnly baptized David, and Robert +entered his name in the large family Bible, which had been the first +purchase he made for his home after Theodora had accepted him. + +But in neither ceremony did Mrs. Traquair Campbell take any part. She +did not go to church, and when Robert asked her to come into his parlor +and see the entry of her grandson's name in the Book, she refused. All +of the household were present but the infant's grandmother and aunts; +and all blessed the child as Theodora put him a moment into the arms of +the women present. McNab kissed him, and made a kind of apology for the +act, saying she "never could help kissing a boy baby, since she was a +baby hersel', and even if it were a girl baby a bit bonnie, she whiles +fell easy into the same infirmity." + +In this case Theodora gained her desire, and some will say she gained it +by flattering her husband. It would be fairer to say by _admiring_ her +husband. A wise wife knows that in domestic diplomacies, admiration is a +puissant weapon. In a great many cases it is better than love. Men are +not always in the mood to be loved, their minds may be busy with things +naturally antagonistic to love; and to show a warmth that is not shared +is a grave mistake. But all men are responsive to admiration. It +succeeds where reasoning and arguing and endearments fail. For the +person admired feels that he is believed in, and trusted. He has nothing +to explain and nothing to justify, and this attitude makes the wheels of +the household run smoothly. + +Is then Theodora to be blamed? If so, there are an unaccountable number +of women, yesterday, to-day, and forever, in the same fault. It would be +safe to say there is not a happy household in the land where the wives +and mothers do not use many such small hypocrisies. Is there any wife +reading this sentence, who has not often made a pleasant evening for her +whole family, by a few admiring or sympathizing words? For though a +woman will go through hard work and distracting events without praise or +sympathy, a man cannot. If admiration and kindness fail him, he flies to +the black door of oblivion by drink, or drugs, or a pistol shot. A man +with a wife whose sympathy and admiration can be relied on, is never +guilty of that sin. Is there a good wife living who has not pretended +interest in subjects she really cares nothing about; who has not +listened to the same stories a hundred times, and laughed every time; +who does not in some way or other, violate her own likes or dislikes, +tastes or opinions every day in the week in order to induce a household +atmosphere which it will be pleasant to live in? + +This is not the place to discuss the ethics of this universal custom. +Women, with reckless waste have always flung themselves into the +domestic gulf. They choose to throw away their own happiness in order to +make others happy, forgetting too often that _they who injure themselves +shall not be counted innocent_. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE NEW CHRISTINA + + +Home is not ruined in a day, and it is wonderful what rack and strain +and tugging the marriage tie will bear ere it snaps asunder. For three +years and a half after the birth of the child, Theodora was subjected to +an unwearying hostility, always finding fresh reasons for complaint and +injustice. And it was a cruel symptom of this intentional malice, that +it took as its usual vehicle, little David. He could do nothing right. +Baby as he was, his grandmother found him to be a child of many sinful +proclivities. She was never weary of pointing out his faults. "He looked +so vulgarly English, he had no Scotch burr in his speech; he walked +wrong, he made her peaceful home a Bedlam of crying and shouting. He was +naturally rude, he would scarcely answer his aunts if they spoke to him; +and if she herself but came near him, he ran away and hid himself in his +mother's arms. He was also shockingly fond of low company. He could not +be coaxed into her room, but was never out of the kitchen; and one day +she had found him sitting on the pastry table, watching McNab make the +tarts." At this charge Robert smiled and asked: + +"Why does not Ducie keep him out of the kitchen? She ought to do so." + +"She likes to be there herself. I think it would be well to send her +back to Kendal at once. There is no necessity for a nurse now, and the +boy ought to be learning how to care for himself--you did so before you +were his age. And really, Robert, keeping a maid for Dora is a most +unnecessary expense; it also makes a great deal of trouble among the +house-servants. The girl is always quarrelling with them about her +mistress, and pitying them about their mistress. I fancy Dora makes an +equal of her." + +"That is not Dora's way, mother. And the girl is not only a nurse, she +attends to our rooms also." + +"The house chambermaid could do that." + +"Could she do it the first thing in the morning?" + +"Do you think Dora's rooms ought to be attended to before mine?" + +"Dora likes them to be put in order early, and I am willing to pay for +her wish." + +"More fool you! I dare be bound, she cleaned her own room before you +married her." + +"If she had married Lord Thurson, instead of me, he would have given her +a dozen maids had she wished them." + +"Do you think I believe that romancing about Lord Thurson? I am not such +a born idiot. You cannot persuade me, that two men in the world wanted +to marry Dora Newton. _Hout, tout!_ Men are feckless enough, but not +that crazy." + +Such conversations as this occurred usually in the library after dinner +where Mrs. Campbell now made a point of visiting her son. For this end, +she had conquered her dislike both of the room and his tobacco, and +there she carried all the small gossip and worries of the household. And +Robert soon began to enjoy this visit, and the tale-bearing suspicions +and arguments that enlivened it. It pleased him to feel that he knew all +that was going on in the house, and he also liked to know whether +Theodora had been out or not, whether she had dressed for calling or +walking, and, if she had not left the house, how she had been occupied, +what callers she had had, and how many letters she had received. He was +not even averse to knowing the post-office stamps of these letters. + +And when men indulge this petty weakness, they soon learn to enjoy its +humbling cruelties and its mean triumphs, hardly considering that under +such a disintegrating process all domestic happiness crumbles inwardly +away. Thus Robert grew indifferent to the woman he so pitilessly +analyzed, and fell gradually into the godless, thankless quiescence of +getting used to happiness. It was then easy to regard what had once been +a miraculous blessing as a thing monotonous and commonplace. + +With Theodora, he had now little companionship. He had ceased to consult +her about anything, they neither wept nor rejoiced together, they did +not even quarrel, and no legal bill of divorce could have more +effectually separated them than did this moral divorce, in which there +was neither disputing nor forgiveness. But though Theodora consented to +this evil condition outwardly, as a form of sacrifice for David's sake, +inwardly she knew it to be overcome. She bore it cheerfully, despised +its power, and ignored as much as possible its presence. + +Had she been left to herself she must have broken down under the +unceasing tension, but constantly visited by the _not herself_, she +lifted up her head, and when urged too fiercely, walked her lonely room +with God, and dared to tell Him all the sorrow in her heart. Her +disappointment had been dreadful, but God's pity had touched the great +mistake, and she was now waiting as patiently and cheerfully as possible +for the finality sure to come. + +So far she had hid her wrongs and her disillusions in her heart; not +even to her parents had she complained. The heart-breaking cruelties +from which she suffered were not recognized by the law, and they were +screened from the world by the closed doors of domestic life. So she had +bowed both her heart and her head, and was dumb to every one but her +Maker. He alone knew her in those days of utter desolation, when her +wronged and wounded soul retired from all earthly affections to that +Eternal Love always waiting our hour of need. + +At this time it was the once snubbed and depressed Christina who +dominated Traquair House. From her first interview with Theodora, she +had resolved to become like her. With patient zeal she had studied and +acquired whatever Theodora had recommended. And quickly divining the +bent of her intellectual faculties, Theodora had educated that bent to +perfection. The correct technique of the piano was already known to +Christina, but Theodora directed it into its proper channel of +expression, and showed her how to put a soul into her playing and +singing. She found for her the most delicate and humorous portions of +literature, and taught her how to recite them. She made her free of all +the secrets of beautiful dressing, and urged her to do justice to her +person; until very gradually the commonplace Christina had flowered into +an attractive woman. + +In the third year of Theodora's married life Christina had begun to +dress herself with a rich and almost fastidious elegance, and, as +frequently happens, she put on with her fine clothing a certain amount +of genius and authority. No one snubbed her now, for she had made a +distinct place for herself in the special set the Traquair Campbells +affected--the rich religious set--and her definite and agreeable +accomplishments caused her to be eagerly sought for every entertainment +in that set. She had begun to have admirers, flowers were sent to her +and gentlemen called upon her, and she received invitations from them to +concerts, lectures, and such national and therefore correct plays, as +_Rob Roy_ and _Macbeth_. This social admiration developed her +self-appreciation and self-reliance to a wonderful extent. She was no +longer afraid of any member of her family, and they were secretly very +proud of her. + +Mrs. Campbell talked of her daughter's social triumphs constantly. "Your +sister is the belle of every occasion, Robert," she said to her son. +"She has as many as five and six callers every day; she has been named +in the papers as 'the lovely and accomplished Miss Christina Campbell'; +she has numerous lovers to tak' her choice o', and tell me, my lad, +whaur's your Theodora now!" She tossed her head triumphantly to the +scornful laugh with which she asked the question. + +"Mother, you know that Dora has made Christina all she is. Be honest, +and confess that." + +"'Deed I will not. The beauty and the talents were a' in the lassie. +Dora may have said a word now and then, and showed her a thing or two, +here and there, but the gifts were Christina's, and the lassie's ain +patient wark has brought them to their perfection. That's a crowned +truth and I'll suffer no contradiction to it. We shall have to order her +wedding feast vera soon. I have not a doubt o' that." + +"I hope she will have the sense not to overlook the baronet in her train +of admirers." + +"You're meaning Sir Thomas Wynton?" + +"Yes. He is quite in the mind to buy a handsome share in the works, and +his name and money would be a great thing for us. I intend to bring him +here to dinner to-morrow. Tell Christina I am looking to her to bring +him into the family, and into the works." + +"I'll be no such fool, Robert Campbell. I shall say nothing anent Sir +Thomas, save the particular fact of his coming here to dinner. Little +you know o' women, if you think any lassie can be counselled to marry +the man she ought to marry." + +"Take your own way with her, mother, but mind this--the securing of Sir +Thomas Wynton will be a special providence for the Campbells. He has one +hundred thousand pounds to invest, and I cannot bear to think of him +carrying all that capital anywhere but to the Campbell furnaces." + +"I'll manage it. Never fear, Robert, Christina shall be my lady +Christina and you shall have the Wynton siller to trade with. It will be +a righteous undertaking for me, for it is fairly sinful in Sir Thomas, +hiding his hundred thousand talents--as it were--in a napkin. A bank is +no better than a napkin; money is just folded away in it; and money is +made round that it may roll. The Campbell works will set the hundred +thousand pieces rolling and gathering more, and more, and still more. +_Losh!_ it makes me tremble to think of them going out o' the Campbell +road. That would be an unthinkable calamity." + +"If you can manage it, mother, it----" + +"'If'--there's no 'if' in the matter." She smiled and nodded, and seemed +so sure of success, that Robert found it difficult to refrain himself +from making certain calculations, dependent upon a larger capital. + +The next day at noon Mrs. Campbell remarked in a tone of inconvenience, +or household discomfort: "I believe, girls, your brother is going to +bring Sir Thomas Wynton home with him to-night. I am fairly wearied of +the man's name." + +"He is a very fine gentleman, mother," said Christina. + +"He is auld, and auld-farrant." + +"He is not over forty-five, and he is far from being old-fashioned. He +is up to the nick of the times in everything." + +"Your brother never thinks of any manly quality but money. He says Sir +Thomas is rich. I wouldn't wonder if he has only the name o' riches. +But, rich or poor, he is coming to dinner, and I be to see McNab anent +the eatables. A very moderate dinner will do, I should say." + +"Make the finest dinner you can, mother, and it will be only a pot-luck +affair to Sir Thomas," answered Christina. "He is rich, and he is +powerful in politics, and he has one of the finest castles in +Midlothian. He is well worth a good dinner, mother, and Robert will like +to see he has one." + +"What do you say, Isabel?" + +"I say Robert is worth pleasing, mother. The other man is a problem, +perhaps it may be worth while to please him, perhaps not. The negatives +generally win, I've noticed that." + +"Well, well! The dinner is all we can cater for--there's accidentals +anent every affair, and they are beyont us, as a rule. Are either of you +going out this afternoon?" + +"There is nothing to take me out," said Isabel. + +"I was out late last night," said Christina. "I shall rest this +afternoon. Sir Thomas is rather a weariness. We shall all be thankful +when he makes his court bow and says, 'Good-night, ladies! I have had a +perfectly delightsome evening.'" She boldly mimicked the baronet's +broad Scotch speech and courtly debonair manner, without any fear of the +cold silence, or cutting reproofs her mimicry used to provoke. + +No more was said, and the girls did not take Sir Thomas Wynton into +their conversation. He appeared to be a person of no importance to them. +As they were parting Isabel asked: "What will you wear to-night, +Christina?" and Christina answered: "I have not thought of my dress +yet--what will you wear?" + +"My gray silk, trimmed with black lace." + +"Put on white laces; they are more becoming." + +"The dress is ready for the Social Club at the church, Friday. Why +should I alter it for a couple of hours to-night? I wish you would wear +your rose satin. You look so bonnie in it." + +"I'll not don it for Sir Thomas Wynton! I wish to wear it at Mrs. +Bannerman's dinner Thursday, and Wynton is sure to be there. I don't +want him to think I wore my best dress for him only. It would set him up +too high." + +But if she did not wish to wear her rose satin for Sir Thomas, she +appeared in a far more effective costume--a black Maltese lace gown, +trimmed with bright rose-colored bows of satin ribbon. Her really fine +arms were bare from the elbows, her square-cut neck showed a beautifully +white, firm throat, and the glow of the ribbons was over her neck and +arms, and touched the dress here and there charmingly. A bright red rose +showed among the manifold braids of her black hair, and she had in her +hand a rose-colored fan, with which she coquetted very prettily. + +Robert was charmed with her appearance, and told her so. "I want you to +charm Sir Thomas Wynton for me," he added. "It is desirable that I +should have him for a business partner. Do you understand?" + +She laughed, and putting her fan before her face asked in a whisper: +"What will you give me, Robert, if I win him for you?" + +"Five hundred pounds," he said promptly. + +"Done!" she replied, and then, hearing the door open, she turned to see +Sir Thomas Wynton entering. She went to meet him with a laughing welcome +and with both hands extended. She sat at his side during dinner and kept +him laughing, and when she left the dining-room ordered him with a +pretty authority to be in the drawing-room for tea, in forty-five +minutes. And he took out his watch, noted the time, and promised all she +asked. + +In forty-five minutes exactly, he appeared in the drawing-room. Jepson +was serving tea, and Christina's cup stood on the piano, for as Robert +and Sir Thomas entered the room she was playing with lively, racy +spirit, the prelude to the inimitably humorous song of "_The Laird o' +Cockpen_." Sir Thomas went at once to her side, and when he spoke to +her, she answered him with the musical, mocking words: + + "_The laird of Cockpen he's proud, and he's great, + His mind is taen up wi' the things o' the State_," etc. + +Sir Thomas listened with peals of laughter, and Robert and Mrs. Campbell +joined in the merriment. Even Isabel was unable to preserve the usual +stillness of her face, though she was far more interested in the singer +than the song. Where had all these charming coquetries, this mirth and +melody been hidden in the old Christina? This was not the Christina she +had known all her life. "It is Theodora's doing," she thought, "and not +one of us have given her one word of thanks. It is too bad! And I am +sure she stayed in her own room to-night, to give Christina a fair +field, and no rival. She is a good woman. I wish mother could like her." + +The whole evening was a triumph for Christina. She sang "_Sir John +Cope_" with irresistible raillery, and roused every Scotch feeling in +her audience with "_Bannocks o' Barley Meal_," and "_The Kail Brose of +Auld Scotland_." She told her most amusing stories, and finally induced +Sir Thomas Wynton and her brother, mother, and sister to join her in the +parting song of "_Auld Lang Syne_." Then, with evident reluctance, Sir +Thomas went away, "thoroughly bewitched in a' his five senses," as he +confessed later. Christina knew it, for ere she bid her brother +good-night, she found an opportunity to whisper: + +"You will owe me five hundred pounds very soon." + +"I will pay it," he answered, and she looked backward at him with a +laugh. Then he turned to his mother and said: "Who would have believed +that Christina had all this fun and mischief in her?" + +"Ah, well, Robert," answered Mrs. Campbell, "Scotch girls don't put all +their goods in the window. They hold a deal in reserve and there's none +but the one man can ever bring it out o' them. I'm thinking Sir Thomas +is the one man, in Christina's mind." + +"I hope so." + +"I have not such a thing as a doubt left." + +"Do you tell me that, mother?" + +"Yes, I took good notice, and she seemed to be on a very easy footing +with him. I'll give him a week to think things o'er, but the marriage o' +Christina Campbell and Sir Thomas Wynton is certain." + +"We will not go quite that far yet, mother, but I think this evening's +events warrant that presumption." + +While this conversation was in progress, Christina was going upstairs, +and her quick, strong steps were in singular contrast to the slow, inert +movements of the Christina of a few years previous. At Theodora's +bedroom door she paused irresolutely for a few moments, but finally +tapped at it. Theodora herself answered the summons. She was in a long, +white gown, and her face was white as the linen. + +"Are you ill, Dora?" Christina asked. + +"No, I am sleepy. Have you had a pleasant evening?" + +"Yes. All went to my wish. Every honor was in my hand, but if you had +been present honors would have been easy, if not entirely in your hand. +It was kind of you to give me this free opportunity, and I feel sure I +have won the game. Good-night." + +"Good-night. You are looking unusually handsome." + +"This dress is becoming. Good-night," and she went gaily away, timing +her steps to the music of the last line of her conquering song: + + "_And the late Mistress Jean, is my Lady Cockpen_," + +laughing softly to herself as she closed her door. For she knew that she +had won Sir Thomas Wynton, and her sharp little bit of a soul had +already caught a keen sight of the further triumphs awaiting her. She +would travel, she would be presented at many courts, she would entertain +splendidly at Wynton Castle, she would be kind to Theodora, and +patronize and protect her and she would make the hearts of the +Campbelton set sick with envy. So she went to sleep planning a future +for herself, of the most stupendous self-pleasing. + +But within one week her most unlikely plans had assumed an air of +certainty. Sir Thomas Wynton had formally asked Mrs. Campbell for her +daughter's hand, and Miss Christina Campbell been recognized as the +future Lady Wynton. Then her world was at her feet, every one did her +homage, and brought her presents, and praised her for having done so +well to herself. And she took the place in the household accorded her +without dissent and without apologies, and ordered her outgoings and +incomings as she desired. + +At first the middle of June had been named for the marriage, but before +long the date was forwarded to the eighteenth of April, for Sir Thomas +was an ardent lover and would hear of no delaying. Then the house was in +a kind of joyful hurry from morning to night, and Christina spent her +days between the shops and her dressmaker, and not even Sir Thomas could +get a glimpse of her until the day's pleasant labor was over. At first +Mrs. Campbell went with her daughter on these shopping expeditions, and +sometimes Isabel accompanied them, but soon the various demands of the +coming event gave the elder ladies abundant cares, and Christina was +permitted to manage her shopping and fitting as she thought best. So +then she gained daily in self-assertion, and soon submitted to no +dictation even from her brother. But Sir Thomas was a lover sure to make +any woman authoritative, for he submitted gladly to all his mistress's +whims, obeyed all her orders, and grew every hour more and more +infatuated with his charming Christina. The most expensive flowers and +fruits were sent to her daily, the Wynton jewels were being reset for +her use, and Wynton Castle elaborately decorated and furnished for its +new mistress. Christina, indeed, was now drinking a full cup of +long-delayed happiness, and late as it was, finding the dew of her +long-lost youth. + +Mrs. Campbell shared her daughter's triumphant satisfaction. To all her +kinfolk, married and unmarried, male and female, she wrote little notes +brimming with pride and false humility, and expatiating on Sir Thomas +Wynton's rank, wealth and power, his handsome person, and his deep +devotion to her daughter; piously trusting that "her dear child might +not be lured from the narrow path of godliness, in which she had been so +carefully trained." + +So in these days Christina was busy and happy, and mistress of all she +desired. Yet as the wedding-day approached, she became nervous and +irritable; she said she was weary to death, and wanted to sleep for a +month. No one cared to cross her in the smallest matter, though her +family devotion never deserted her. This feeling was strongly +exemplified about two weeks before the wedding-day, in a few words said +to her brother one evening when they were alone in the dining-room. + +"Robert," she asked, "how near are you to the hundred thousand you +expected? You have paid me the five hundred pounds promised. I should +like to know if I have earned it. How near are you to your desire?" + +"Near enough." + +"Has he signed the papers yet?" + +"No." + +"Why?" + +"I have not pressed the matter." + +"You are foolish. It will be easier to get his signature before we are +married, than after." + +"You suspicious woman! Men keep their word about money matters, +Christina. Don't you know that?" + +"No." + +"Well, of course you don't. You know nothing about men." + +"You are satisfied, are you?" + +"I am perfectly satisfied." + +"And sure?" + +"And positively sure." + +A week later she asked again, though in a joking manner, "if he had +secured that signature?" and Robert answered in a tone of annoyance: + +"Do not trouble yourself anent my money matters, Christina." + +Then she laughed and said: "When I am Lady Wynton, I may find many other +ways for the spending of that hundred thousand of lying siller." + +"I can trust you," replied Robert. "When you are Lady Wynton, you will +not cease to be Christina Campbell, and Campbells stand shoulder to +shoulder all the world over." + +At these words she gave him her hand, and he clasped it tightly between +his own. No further words were necessary. Robert knew assuredly that his +sister's influence would always be in his favor, never against him. + +As she left her brother, Mrs. Campbell called her, and with a slight +reluctance she went into the familiar room. + +"What is it you want with me, mother?" she asked, quickly adding, "I am +very busy to-day." + +"I want to tell you, Christina, that I have had the small room behind +this room prepared for your trunks. They ought to have been here +yesterday. Are your dresses not finished? It is high time they were." + +"Some are finished, others are not." + +"Those that are finished had better be sent here at once." + +There was a moment's pause, and then Christina said decidedly: "None of +my bride things are coming here, mother. When they are all in perfect +order they will be sent to my future home." + +"To Wynton Castle?" + +"Of course. They will be quite safe there." + +"Safe! What do you mean, miss? And pray, why are your bride clothes sent +to Wynton Castle, instead of to Traquair House? I insist on knowing +that." + +"Because Traquair House is notoriously unlucky to bride clothes. Poor +Theodora's pretty things were all ruined by those dreadful Campbelton +people. You said your bride things were treated in the same way. Very +well, I am determined that none of my trunks shall be broken open and +rifled, and so I am sending them to where they will be guarded and +respected." + +"You are acting in a shameful, and most unusual manner, and I command +you to send your trunks here. I will be responsible for their safety." + +"Thank you, mother, but I have already made excellent arrangements for +their security." + +"I consider your behavior abominable. It is an outrage on your mother's +love and honor." + +"Theodora trusted you, and you allowed a lot of vulgar, unscrupulous +women to ransack her trunks, wear her new dresses dirty, and spoil all +they touched, and carry away with them neckwear and jewelry they had no +right to touch. I will not give them so much opportunity to injure me. +You ought not to wish me to do so." + +"Christina Campbell, your behavior is beyond all excuse, it is almost +beyond all forgiveness. Isabel, tell your sister her duty." + +Then Isabel said in a slow, positive voice: "I think Christina is right. +You know, mother, the Campbelton people will come to the marriage, and +after Christina has gone, who will be able to restrain them? Not you. It +is quite certain that they ruined poor Dora's home-coming, and made her +begin her life here, at sixes and sevens." + +"Poor Dora! What do you mean?" + +"I mean, mother, that the opening of her trunks, and the use of her +clothing was a shameful thing. I have often said so, and I will always +say so." + +"Do not dare to say it to me again. I will not listen to such nonsense, +and as for you, Christina Campbell, you are an ungrateful child, and you +are cocking your head too high, and somewhat too early. Wait until you +are Lady Wynton, before you put on ladyship airs." + +"Look you, mother, once and for all time, my trunks are not coming near +Traquair House. I am as good as married, and I will not be ordered about +like a child; it is out of the question." + +"_Dod!_ but you are full of bouncing, swaggering words. And what good +girl ever sent her bridal clothes away, without letting her mother see +them? What in heaven and earth will you do next?" + +"I shall be delighted, if you will come with me to Madame Bernard's +rooms this morning. I have asked you frequently to do so. You always +refuse." + +"I intended to examine them here, at my leisure." + +"And as to what I shall do next, you will see that very shortly. I am +very sorry, mother, to disappoint you, but after I am married you can +see me wearing the dresses, and----" + +"I do not wish to see them at all now." + +"Very well." + +"All your life, until lately, you have been a good obedient daughter; +the change in you is the work of that wicked, wicked woman Dora Newton." + +"All my life until lately, I was kept in a state of nothingness--but I +am no longer a nonentity. I have come into a human existence, and you +are right, it is Dora Campbell's doing, and I wish I knew how to thank +her." + +"It would be thanking the devil, for teaching you to sin." + +"Mother, you are spoiling my day, and I have a great deal to do. +Good-morning, or will you come with me?" + +"I will not come one footstep with you. How can you expect it?" + +At these words Christina left the room, and Mrs. Campbell began a +complaint illustrated by sobs, and sighs, and intermittent tears. She +told Isabel that all the pleasure she expected from her child's marriage +had been taken from her. She confessed that she had spoken a little to +many people of the rich and beautiful presents Christina had received, +and now she would not be able to show one of them; and no one would +believe what she had said--and she could not blame people if they did +not. "Oh, Isabel!" she cried, "for my sake, and for all our sakes, +Christina must send her trunks here for a week or two. Do try and +persuade her. She always listens to you." + +"It is quite useless, mother; she has made up her mind to send them to +her new home. I rather think some have gone there already, for two weeks +ago there were eight trunks at madame's, and last week I only saw +three." + +"Why did you not tell me? Oh, why did you not give me a chance to +persuade the cruel, selfish girl? So wrong! So wicked! So ungrateful! +You know, Isabel, I gave her five hundred pounds to buy that very +clothing--I had a right to see it--yes, I had--I had--and it is +shameful!" + +"Mother, you could have gone with Christina to her dressmaker's. You +could not expect her to bring all her things here, they would certainly +have been shown and handled--they might have been ill-used as Dora's +pretty clothes were. Oh, mother, I do not blame Christina at all! I +think she acted for the best." + +"So you also are joining the enemy--getting Newtonized like Christina. +Do you also hope to become a beauty, and a belle, and marry a baronet?" + +"Mother, you are throwing sarcasm away. I have no hopes left for myself. +It is too late for me to develop in any direction." + +"Whose fault is that?" + +"Destiny's fault, I suppose. I was nursing the sick, when I ought to +have been in school and in society." + +Mrs. Campbell did not answer this reproach. Destiny was a good enough +apology. No one could thwart Destiny. She at least was not to blame for +the wrongs of Destiny. She sat dourly still and silent, the very image +of resentful disappointment. The silence was indeed so profound, that +one could hear the passage of Isabel's needle through the silk she was +sewing, and for ten minutes both women maintained the attitude they had +taken. + +Then Isabel--holding her needle poised ready for the next stitch--looked +at her mother. Her expression of hopeless defeat was pathetic, and her +silent, motionless endurance of it, touched Isabel's heart as tears and +complaints never could have done. She rose and, taking her mother's +dropped hand, said: + +"Never mind, mother. You will often see Christina wearing her fineries +in her grand new home. That will be far better than taking them out of a +trunk to look at." + +"Isabel, I care nothing about seeing them. I wanted to show them. People +will never believe she got all I said she did." + +"Why should you care whether they believe it or not? And why not pay the +newspapers to make a notice of them. They will send some youngster here +to item them, and you can give him a sovereign, and a glass of wine, and +then you can give Christina all the wonderfuls you like--even to the +half, or the whole, of Sir Thomas Wynton's estate." + +"That is the plan, Isabel. I'm glad you thought of it." + +"Robert is gey fond of a newspaper notice. He'll pay the sovereign +without a grumble." + +"I'm sure you are an extraordinar' comfort, Isabel." + +"And I thought you were going to order the wedding cake this morning. +There is really no time to lose, mother." + +"You are right, Isabel, and I must just put back my own sair heartache +and look after the ungrateful, thrawart woman's wedding cake. It's +untelling what I have done for Christina, and the upsetting ways o' her +this morning and the words she said, I'll never forget. I shall come +o'er them in my mind as long as I live; and I'll tell her what I think +of her behavior, whenever I find a proper opportunity." + +"Very well, mother. Tell her flatly your last thought; it will be the +best way." + +"I will." + +"But do go about the cake at once. It is important, and there's none but +yourself will be heeded." + +Then with a long, deep sigh, she went slowly out of the room, and Isabel +watched her affected weakness and indifference with a kind of scornful +pity. For women see through women, know intuitively their little tricks +and make-beliefs, and for this very reason a daughter's love for her +mother--however devoted and self-sacrificing--lacks that something of +mystical worship which a son feels for his mother. The daughter knows +she wears false hair and false teeth and pink and white powder; the son +simply takes her as she looks and thinks "what a lovely mother I have!" +The daughter has watched her mother's little schemes for happy household +management, and probably helped her in them; the son knows only their +completed comfort and their personal pleasure. He never dreams of any +policy or management in his mother's words and deeds, and hence he +believes in her just as he sees and hears her. And her wisdom and love +seem to him so great and so unusual, that an element of reverence--the +highest feeling of which man is capable--blends itself with all his +conceptions of mother. And the wonder is, that a daughter's love +exists, and persists, without it. Knowing all her mother's feminine +weaknesses, she loves her devotedly in spite of them--nay, perhaps loves +her the more profoundly because of them. And if she is not capable of +this affection she does not love her at all. + +Isabel watched her mother leave the house on the wedding cake business +and then she went to her sister's room. She found her dressing to go +out. "I have an appointment at eleven, Isabel," she said, "and I am so +glad you have come to sit beside me while I dress. The days are going so +fast, and very soon now you will come to my room, and Christina will not +be here, any more in this life." + +"You will surely come back to your own home sometimes, Christina?" + +"No. I shall never enter Traquair House again, unless you are sick and +need me--then I would come. I have just been going through my top +drawer, Isabel; it was full of old gifts and keepsakes, and I declare +they brought tears to my eyes." + +"Why? I dare say the givers have forgotten you--they were mostly school +friends, and the Campbelton crowd." + +"Do you think I had a tear for any of them? No, no! I was nearly crying +for myself, for it was really piteous to see the trash a woman of my age +thought worth preserving. I sent the whole contents of the drawer to the +kitchen--the servant lasses may quarrel about them." + +"Was there nothing worth taking to your new home? No single thing that +had a loving, or a pleasant memory?" + +"Not one. The whole mess of needlework, and painted cards, toilet toys, +and sham trinkets represented my existence until Dora came. It was just +as useless and unsatisfying as the trash flung into the kitchen. Dora +opened the gates of life for me. Poor Dora!" + +"Why do you say 'poor Dora'?" + +"She is unhappy, disappointed, I have sometimes thought almost +frightened. She is much changed. Robert is not kind to her, and he ought +to be ashamed of himself. I wonder if my intended husband will act as +Robert has done?" + +"Sir Thomas is much in love with you." + +"Robert was much in love with Dora. See how it ends. He sits reading, or +he lies asleep on the sofa the evenings he is with her--and he used to +feel as if the day was not long enough to tell her how lovely and how +dear she was. I suppose Sir Thomas will act in the same way." + +"I do not think he will." + +"He had better not." + +"Oh, Christina, do not talk--do not even think of such contingencies. +Women should never threaten." + +"Pray, why not?" + +"Because it is dangerous to themselves to show their teeth if they +cannot bite, and they cannot. Women in this country are helpless as +babies." + +"Then there are other countries." + +"_Hush!_ This is uncanny talk. What a pretty suit! Are you going to wear +it to-day?" + +"Yes, it is a spring suit, and this is a lovely spring morning. I heard +the robins singing as you came upstairs." + +"Mother has gone to order the wedding cake--you ought to be a happy +woman, Christina." + +"I am--and yet, Isabel, life will be bare without you. All my life long +you have been my comfort, and I love you, yes, I love you dearly, +Isabel." + +"And I love you, Christina. I shall miss you every hour of the day." + +Then they were both silent, they had said all they could say, and much +more than was usual. Christina finished her toilet, and Isabel sat +watching her, then they clasped hands and walked downstairs together, +and so to the front door, which Jepson opened as Christina approached +it. For a few moments Isabel stood there and watched her sister enter +the waiting carriage, and felt well repaid when Christina, as the horses +moved, fluttered her white handkerchief in a parting salute. + +Mrs. Campbell returned in time for lunch. She had quite recovered her +dignity, and was indeed more than usually vaunting and exultant. "I have +ordered a cake twice the ordinary size," she said, "and the small boxes, +and the narrow white ribbon, in which to send friends not present at the +ceremony a portion. It will be a labor to tie them up, and direct them, +but there will be a house full to help you. When will your dress be +done, Isabel?" + +"To-night, mother." + +"And Christina's comes to-morrow night. Mine is finished. I called at +Dalmeny's to examine it. The lace is particularly effective, and it +fits--which is a wonder. Will Sir Thomas be here to dinner?" + +"He has gone to Edinburgh for the Wynton diamonds. He has set his heart +on Christina wearing them at the marriage ceremony." + +"I do not approve his determination. A bride, in my opinion, ought to be +dressed with great simplicity. I was. A few orange blossoms, or the like +of them, are enough." + +"Not always. A young girl looks well enough with a few flowers, but a +woman in the prime of life, like Christina, can wear diamonds even on +her wedding-day, and look grander and lovelier for them." + +"Well, well! Your way be it. I do not expect my opinions to be regarded, +but can tell you one thing--if Sir Thomas goes on giving her gems at the +rate he has done, the Wynton baronage will be in a state of perfect +beggary, before the end of their lives. I was just telling Mrs. Malcolm +that I verily believed the sum-total o' Sir Thomas Wynton's gifts to my +daughter might reach all o' a ten thousand pounds, and she was that +astonished, she could barely keep her composure." + +"That is just like yourself, mother. I do wish you would not boast so +much about Sir Thomas. He is not any kind of a miraculous godsend, for +Christina is quite as good as he is." + +"Isabel, if my family has been honored with extraordinar' mercies, I am +not the woman to deny them, or even hide them in a napkin, as it were. I +am going to be thankful for them and speak well of them to all and +sundry. I am going to rejoice day and night over the circumstance. I +think it just and right to testify my gratitude so far; and I would +think shame o' myself if I did not do it." + +"Very well, mother. Christina had a new spring suit on to-day. She +looked exceedingly handsome in it." + +"Bailie Littlejohn remarked to me lately, that my daughter Christina was +the very picture o' myself, when I was about her age. And he remembered +me ever since we were in the dancing class together--that is forty +years--maybe forty-one, or two, or perhaps as many as forty----" + +"Never mind the years, mother. It is very nice of the Bailie to remember +so long." + +"I always made long--I may say lasting impressions, Isabel. It was my +way--or gift--a kind of power I had. People who once know me, never +forget me. It is rather a peculiar power, I think." + +"Christina seems very happy, mother." + +"Of course she is happy! It would be a black, burning shame if she were +not. Sir Thomas is all she deserves, and more too, yet I am glad he has +withdrawn himself to-night, for I am fairly fagged out with fine +dinners, and I shall tell McNab to give us some mutton broth and collops +to-night. It will be a thanksgiving to have the plainest dinner she can +cook." + +"Christina may not like it." + +"Then she can dislike it. I am not fearing Christina. I wish you would +ask Dora what she is going to wear." + +"Tell Robert to do so." + +"I have heard tell of no new dress, and it would be just like her to +wear her own wedding dress." + +"Is there anything against her doing so?" + +"Is there anything against it? Certainly there is. We do not want any +one in white satin but Christina." + +"Oh! I see. Robert must explain that to her. Tell him so to-night. You +had better take a sleep this afternoon, mother. You look tired." + +"I will rest until seven. What time will Christina be home?" + +"She did not tell me." + +"Where was she going?" + +"To Marion Brodie's. She spoke of Flora McLeod being with Marion to-day, +and of the necessity of making each of them understand their duties." + +"Duties?" + +"As chief bride-maidens." + +"Yes, yes, of course! But she will be home to dinner?" + +"Oh, certainly; and Marion may come back with her. If so, how will the +plain dinner do?" + +"Well enough! Marion's mother was brought up on mutton broth and haggis; +and the wealth o' the Brodies is o'er young to be in the fashions yet +awhile. I will be down at seven, and meanwhile you may speak to +Christina anent her duty. I do think her wedding dress ought to be home +even the now." + +"Mother, it will not come until the day before the marriage. She is +afraid of it being handled." + +"Preserve us! Why shouldn't it be handled? It is pure selfishness. She +is against sharing her pleasure with any other soul. That is the because +of her ill-natured conduct. See that dinner is ready punctual. Your +brother was in one of his north-easter tempers this morning, and the +day's work isn't likely to have sorted him any better." + +Then half-reluctantly she went upstairs. She would rather have remained +with Isabel and talked affairs over again; but Isabel was depressed and +not inclined to conversation. The old lady wondered, as she slowly +climbed the stairs, "What the young people of this generation were made +of?" She felt that she had more enthusiasm than either of her daughters, +and then sighed deeply, because it received so little sympathy. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +A RUNAWAY BRIDE + + +At seven precisely Mrs. Campbell re-entered the dining-room. Isabel was +already there, and Jepson was bringing in the broth. Neither Robert nor +Christina was present, and she wondered a little, but asked no +questions. In a few moments Theodora took her place, and without remark +permitted Jepson to serve her. But she was evidently in trouble, and she +did not touch the food before her. At length Mrs. Campbell asked: + +"Where is Robert? Is he not ready for dinner?" + +"He is asleep. I suppose he is not ready for dinner." + +"What time did he return home?" + +"Very early. He said he was sleepy. He is always sleepy. I fear he is +ill, a healthy man cannot always be needing sleep." + +"The Campbells, all of them, are famous for their ability to sleep. They +can sleep at all hours, and in any place--a four-inch-wide plank would +suffice them for a sofa. They can order a sleep whenever they desire, +and it comes. It is very remarkable." + +"Very," answered Theodora, in a tone of unavoidable contempt. + +"I have heard people say it was a great gift, and it is quite a family +gift." + +"I hope my little David will not inherit it," said Theodora. + +"There is nothing of the Campbell family about the boy," replied Mrs. +Campbell. + +Theodora did not say she was glad, but she looked the words, and her +expression of satisfaction was annoying to both Isabel and her mother. +The former said with petulant decision: + +"I can sleep at any time I wish. I think this family trait is a great +and peculiar blessing." + +"Circumstances may sometimes make it so, Isabel," answered Theodora, +"but I would rather wake and suffer, than sink into animal +unconsciousness half my life. Robert has slept, or pretended to sleep, +twelve hours out of the last twenty-four, and he does not even dream." + +"Dream!" cried Mrs. Campbell in disgust, "dream, I hope not! Only fools +dream. My children go to bed for the purpose of sleeping. Dream indeed! +The Campbells have good sense, and they don't lose it when they sleep." + +"Oh, but I think dreaming is one of the most sensible things we do. The +soul is comforted by dreaming, instructed and warned by dreaming. I +should feel spiritually dead, if the blessed, prophesying dreams failed +to visit me." + +"I wonder where Christina is taking dinner," said Mrs. Campbell. She +refused to continue a conversation so senseless and disagreeable, and +her way of doing so, was not only to ignore Theodora's topic, but also +to introduce a subject which she considered important and interesting. +And of course Christina's dinner was a matter that put dreaming out of +court and question. + +Isabel thought she was dining with the Brodies, and Mrs. Campbell said, +"In that case she ought to have sent a message to her family." + +"She is so occupied, mother, she forgets. We must make some allowances +at this time." + +"Of course, Isabel. I expect to do so." + +Then the door was suddenly thrown open and Robert entered. His face was +dark, he was biting his thumbnail, and his eyes were full of a dull +fire. He had not a word for any one but Jepson, whom he ordered to +remove the broth. "The house smells of it," he said with an air of +disgust. He ate what dinner he took without speaking, an act Gothic, +almost brutal, when it can be avoided, but none of the three women cared +to break the silence, lest they might turn silence into visible, audible +anger. + +Theodora made a pretence of eating, but it was only a pretence and she +left the room as soon as the cloth was drawn. Robert did not in any way +notice her departure, but he began a grumbling kind of conversation with +his mother, as soon as the three Campbells were alone. He said he was +worn out with the expense and rioting anent Christina's marriage. It had +been fine dinners, and suppers, and fooleries of all kinds for weeks, +and more weeks, and money wasting away like water running into sand. He +saw no good coming of it. He was glad the end was in sight, etc., +etc.--grumble, grumble, grumble, his voice never lifted above a deep, +sulky monotone, his face dark with frowns and discontent. + +He was so ill-tempered Mrs. Campbell thought it best to leave him alone +with his cigar. It seemed better to worry out her anxieties with Isabel, +who, however, was not in a mood to talk them away. "I am so depressed, +mother," she complained. "I hardly know what I am saying. I feel as if I +had a great sorrow. The room is dark, the air heavy, the whole house +feels full of trouble. It is crowded, too. With a little effort I feel +that I could see the crowd. Do you understand?" + +"My God! Isabel, control yourself. We want no Second Sight here. The +Argyle Campbells are great seers, and you must close your ears to their +whisperings, and whatever sights are under your eye-balls, deny them +vision. You must, you must! For, as your grandfather, Ivan Campbell, +used to say, 'the Second Sight, children, isna a blessing, it is aye +dool and sorrow, or ill chance it shows you.'" + +"Mother, I must tell you the truth. I am unhappy about Christina." + +"So am I." + +"She ought to have sent us a message. She would, had it been possible. +Oh, mother, what or who prevented her?" + +"Perhaps she did. Have you asked Scot?" + +"No, but if any message had been sent by him he would have told Jepson +at once, and Jepson heard our conversation about her absence at the +dinner table, yet he made no remark." + +"What do you fear?" + +"My fear has no form. That is what frightens me. If I knew----" + +"You are nervous, Isabel, very nervous. She left home well, and in good +spirits." + +"I never saw her in better health, or finer spirits." + +"Do you not remember, that she once stayed at Colonel Allison's till +near midnight, without sending us any message? We were in a fright about +her at that time." + +"But you commanded her never to do the like again." + +"Christina has not obeyed my commands very particularly of late. They do +not seem important to her." + +"She has had so much to do, and she knew Sir Thomas would not be in +Glasgow to-night. If I knew she was well and safe, I should be glad she +was not here, for this is an unhappy house with Robert in the devil's +own temper, and Dora looking like the grave." + +"Dora makes Robert ill-tempered. It is all her fault, and we have to +suffer for it." + +"She evidently suffers also." + +"She deserves to suffer." + +"Suppose we send for Scot. He must be in the stable yet." + +"As you like." + +In a quarter of an hour Scot stood within the dining-room door +respectfully indignant at the summons and the delay it would cause him. +He was rather glad the ladies were anxious and quite in the mood to tell +anything he thought might be disagreeable. + +"Where did you take Miss Christina first of all this morning, Scot?" +asked Mrs. Campbell. + +"To the florist's shop on Buchanan Street. She bought a posy of +daffy-down-dillys and came out with them in her hand." + +"Where next?" + +"To Madame Barnard's. She didna stop five minutes there, but Madame cam' +to the doorstep wi' her, and bid Miss Christina good-bye and wished her +a' the good luck in the round world itsel'." + +"Then?" + +"She told me then to go back to the stable, but to be sure and come for +her at four o'clock. I asked where I was to come, and she laughed +pleasantly and said, 'Come to Bailie Brodie's,' and gave me the +Crescent, and the number o' the house forbye." + +"Did you go to Bailie Brodie's at four o'clock?" + +"I did that same thing, ma'am." + +"Well?" + +"A servant lass told me Miss Campbell hadna been there that day, nor +that week. So I drove home again, and at half after five I went to the +train for Mr. Campbell, but I missed him. He had come by an early +train, while I was at Brodies'." + +"Did you notice any one speak to Miss Campbell?" + +"No one." + +"Did she take the right way to Brodies'?" + +"She took the best way--up Sauchiehall Street." + +"That will do, Scot." + +Scot shut the door, and the two women looked with troubled eyes into +each other's faces. Mrs. Campbell then turned to the clock and said, "It +is on the stroke of nine, Isabel. We will wait until ten; then I shall +speak to your brother." + +The hour went miserably, almost silently away, and then Mrs. Campbell +went to her son. He treated her fears with contemptuous indifference. +"It is like you women," he said, "you always make a mountain out of a +molehill. If any one of the women in this house knows how to take care +of herself, it is Christina Campbell! Go to your beds, and tell Jepson +to sit up for her." + +"Robert, do you understand that she said she was going to the Brodies', +and then did not go?" + +"Who said she was not there?" + +"One of the Brodie servant lasses." + +"_Tush!_ She went there, no doubt, but did not stay long enough to +acquaint that particular servant with her visit. I have no doubt Marion +Brodie and Christina went off somewhere together, and they are likely +together at this hour." + +"I never thought of that, Robert. Indeed it is very likely they went to +Netta Galbraith, who is to be second bridesmaid." + +"Of course, and they are having a mock marriage in order to practise +their parts. I hope we shall have no more marriages in the family, they +are ruinously expensive, and make nothing but misery and anxiety." + +Mrs. Campbell sighed, and lifted her eyes heaven-ward, but she did not +remain with her son. She was really afraid to leave Isabel, for she +looked almost distracted, and on the point of vision. "And I will not +have it," she whispered to herself, "no, I will not. There shall be no +prophecy of calamity in this house, whether from the dead or the +living--not if mortal woman can help it." + +She opened the dining-room door to this thought, and Isabel stayed her +rapid walk and asked anxiously, "Well, mother?" + +"Your brother says there is no occasion to worry. He made out a very +clear case of the circumstance," and she explained his supposition +concerning Christina's and Marion Brodie's visit together to Netta +Galbraith. + +Isabel shook her head. "That is not it," she answered positively. + +"He advised us to go to bed." + +"I will not until Christina returns, or Robert does something to clear +up her failure to come." + +"How do you feel?" + +"Unquiet and unhappy. Mother, something extraordinary has happened." + +"I hope you are not seeing things." + +"No. The 'visiting' is past--but it will come again." + +"It must not! It must not! Deny it every time! Oh, Isabel--if anything +should happen to put off the marriage, whatever should we do?" + +"Bear it." + +"The talk of it! The wonder of it! The mortification of it!" + +"Mother, why are you fearing such a misfortune? Robert says all is +right. You have always believed Robert's word." + +"Yes, yes! Robert knows, Robert feels, when he is in the right mood, but +to-night he is in a bad mood--cross and evil as Satan." + +Dismally they talked together for another hour, and then Robert joined +them. He had caught fear from some source, and he asked for a list of +such places as Christina was likely to visit. Then he called a cab and +went first to Glover's Theatre. He was just in time to see the exit of +the Box crowd, but Christina was not among them. Suddenly the +consequences of a delayed marriage struck him like a buffet in his face. +The loss of money--the loss of prestige--the talk--the newspapers! Oh, +the thing was impossible, and he tried to put the apprehension of it +away with a stamp of his foot. He was equally unsuccessful wherever he +called. No one had seen Christina that day, and he finally went home +puzzled, and even anxious, but sure that her unaccountable absence was +the result of some misunderstanding that would be cleared up when +morning came. He insisted on the family retiring, but told Jepson to +leave the gas burning, and be ready to open the door if called upon to +do so. Then he also went upstairs, but sleep was far from him. Theodora +appeared to be asleep, but though her eyes were closed, her heart was +waking. One kind word would have brought him all the comfort love could +give. He was touched, however, by the sweetness and peace that brooded +over her, and by the calm and restful atmosphere pervading her room. He +stood a moment at the side of the apparently sleeping woman, but was +reluctant--perhaps ashamed--to awaken her. David slept in her +dressing-room and he went to the child's cot and looked at the beautiful +boy. When he was asleep, the likeness to his father was very evident, +and Robert noticed it. + +"I was once as innocent and as fair as he is. I must have looked just +like him," and sitting down by a table he held his head in his hands, +and thought of them, and of Christina's delay, listening always for the +carriage, the step, the ring at the door, that never came. + +The next morning the whole family were late and unrested. Jepson was +sorting the mail as Isabel came downstairs, and she asked anxiously, +"What time is it, Jepson?" + +"Nine o'clock, miss. Here is a letter for you, miss." + +She saw at once it was from Christina, and she took it eagerly, and ran +back to her own room with it. Trembling from head to feet, she broke the +seal and read: + + MY DEAR SISTER: + + I was married to-day at half-past eleven to Jamie Rathey. I met + him twelve days ago, and we went into the picture gallery, and + sat there all day talking, and I found out that I loved Jamie, + and did not love Sir Thomas. I promised to marry him, and we + rented a nice floor and furnished it very prettily, and hired + two servants, and so after the marriage ceremony, went to our + own home for lunch. Do not blame me, Isabel. I have never been + happy in all my life, and I want to be happy, and I shall be + happy with Jamie. I have sent all the gifts Sir Thomas gave me + back, and written him a letter. He will forgive me, and I know + you will. Mother will forbid you to mention me, and she will + never forgive. I know Robert will feel hurt, but he has no + cause. I begged him to secure the fish that was on the hook for + him, and he would not. I thought all well over, and I did not + see why I should any longer sacrifice myself for the Campbells. + For twenty-eight years I was miserable--child and woman. Nobody + loved me but Jamie. I had nothing other girls and women had. + But I am happy at last! Happy at last! Oh, Isabel, be glad for + me. I will write to you every month, but you need not try to + find me out. You could not. You might as well look for a + needle in a hay-stack. Dear Isabel, do not forget me. Your + loving sister, + + CHRISTINA RATHEY. + +And Isabel cried and wrung her hands and said softly, but from her very +heart, "I am glad, I am glad! You did right, Christina! Yes, you did! +You did! And Isabel will stand by you till the last. She will! She +will!" + +With tears still on her white cheeks, she went down to the dining-room. +Robert and his mother were at the table, and evidently not on agreeable +terms. "Jepson thought you had a letter from Christina," said Mrs. +Campbell, "and I am astonished you did not bring it to us, at once." + +"I thought it would be better, to see first what news it contained." + +"Well? Can you not speak?" + +Then Isabel put the letter into her mother's hand. + +And in a few minutes there was a cry like that of a woman wounded and +crushed to death. With frantic passion Mrs. Campbell threw the letter at +her son, and then with bitter execrations assailed the child she accused +of killing her. + +"Mother, mother! Do be quiet!" pleaded Isabel. + +"She has killed me! I shall die of shame! I shall die! She has broken my +heart!" + +Robert read the letter through, his face growing darker and darker as he +read. When he had finished, he threw it on the fire, and Isabel rushed +to the grate and rescued it, though it was smoked, and browned, and +mostly illegible. But she clasped its tinder and ashes in her hands, +cried over them, and finally left the room with the precious relics +clasped to her heart. + +"Have you gone crazy too?" called her mother. + +"Let her alone!" said Robert. + +"And pray what is the matter with you?" + +"I am ashamed of the way you are behaving." + +"It is your sister of whom you must be ashamed. Her disgraceful marriage +will kill me." + +"It is the result of your own doing, and withholding." + +"I am to bear the blame, of course. Poor mother!" + +"You never gave her any happiness, and when she got the opportunity she +gave it to herself. That was natural." + +"She had all the happiness I had." + +"You had your husband, your family, your house, your servants, and your +social duties. You were quite happy, but none of these things made +happiness for your daughters. They wanted the pleasures of youth--gay +company, gay clothing, travel and lovers, and none of these things you +gave them. I was often very sorry for them." + +"Then why did you not help them yourself?" + +"Do you remember the year I begged you to take your daughters to +Edinburgh and London, and offered to pay all expenses, and you would not +do it?" + +"I did not wish to go to Edinburgh and London." + +"No, you wanted to go to Campbelton, and so you made your daughters go +with you, though they hated the place. There Christina met this low +fellow whom she married. She had no other lover. To the Campbelton +rabble you sacrificed my sisters from their babyhood." + +"Robert Campbell! How dare you call my kindred 'rabble'?" + +"The name is good enough. Do you think I have forgotten how they treated +my wife's clothing, and our rooms?" + +"What are you bringing up that old story for?" + +"It comes in naturally to-day, and I have not forgotten it. For your +cruelty at that time, you are rightly served. Christina has avenged +Theodora." + +He flung the last words at her over his shoulder as he left the room. +She had no opportunity to answer them, indeed she was not able to do so. +It seemed to her as if she had been stricken dumb from head to feet; as +if her world was being swept away from her, and she could not protest +against it. Isabel had left her in anger and opposition. Robert in +reproach. As for Christina, she had smitten her on every side, and gone +away without contrition and without reproof. And Robert's few words had +been keener than a sword, for they were edged with Truth, and Truth +drove them to her very soul. + +But she had no thought of surrendering any foothold of her position. She +only wanted time to consider herself, for this solid defection of son +and daughters had come like a cataclysm out of a clear sky, unforeseen, +entire, and apparently complete in its misery. Her first resolve was to +go to Theodora, and have the circumstance "out" with her. But her limbs +were as heavy as her heart, and when with difficulty she reached the +door of the room, she heard her son talking to his wife. And it had been +brought home to her that morning that Robert could not be depended on, +therefore she must risk no more uncertain encounters. Theodora alone, +she did not fear; but Theodora and Robert in alliance meant certain +defeat. + +So she stumbled back to the sofa and sat down. Nature ordered her to lie +down, but she flatly refused. "This is a critical time," she said to +herself, "and Margaret Campbell, there is to be no lying down. You be to +keep on the defensive." But she rang for Jepson, and told him to tell +Miss Campbell her mother wanted her. In a few minutes Isabel answered +the summons, and as soon as she entered the room she cried out, "Oh, +mother, mother, mother! what is the matter? You are ill." + +"Ay, Isabel, I am ill, and it would be a miracle if I were not ill." The +words came slowly and with effort, and Isabel was terrified by her +mother's face, for it was gray as ashes, and had on it an expression of +terror, as if she had looked on Death as he passed her by. + +"Lie down, mother. You ought to lie down." + +"Get me a glass--a big glass--of red Burgundy." + +Isabel obeyed, and when she had drunk it, she said in something of her +natural voice and manner, "Burgundy is the strong wine. It is full of +iron, and we require plenty of iron in our blood. In the common crowd, +it goes to their hands, and helps them to work hard, but in the Campbell +clans, it goes to the hearts of both men and women." + +"And makes them hard-hearted." + +"Hard to their own, and worse to their foes--and to strangers. Oh, +Isabel, Isabel, this is the blackest day I have ever seen! What shall we +do?" + +"Bear it. Others have borne the like. We can." + +"I can never look my friends in the face again." + +"Never mind either friends or foes. In nine days they will have said +their say. Let them." + +"Yesterday at this hour, I was the proudest and happiest woman in +Glasgow. To-day I am----" + +"The bravest woman in Glasgow. Defy your trouble, as you always do. +Christina's conduct is most unusual, and few will understand it--they +can't. But, oh mother, stand by your daughter! Tell every one, that when +she found out she loved Mr. Rathey better than Sir Thomas Wynton, she +did what was honorable and womanly, and that you admire her truth and +sincerity, though of course, somewhat disappointed. Such words as these +will silence the ill-natured, and satisfy the friendly. You will say +them, mother?" + +"Something like them, no doubt." + +"And we must find Christina, and you will forgive her, and protect her?" + +"I will do no such things." + +"It would stop people's tongues." + +"Their tongues may clash till doomsday, ere I will stop them that gate. +Never name the wicked woman to me again. I do not know her any more, and +I do not want to know, whether she is living or dead, in plenty or +poverty, sick or well, happy or miserable. She is out o' this world, as +far as I am concerned. _Sure!_" + +"What did Robert say?" + +"Threw the whole blame on mysel'--evil be to him!" + +"Mother!" + +"Yes, evil be to the son who condemns his mother, whether she be right +or wrong." + +"He will not get Sir Thomas to invest money in the works now, I fear. +That will trouble him." + +"Weel! The Campbell furnaces have kept blazing so far, without Wynton +siller to help them, and their fires willna go out for the want o' it." + +"I wonder how Sir Thomas will take his disappointment." + +"It is untelling how any man will take anything. You couldna speculate +as to how Robert Campbell would take a plate o' parritch; he might like +them, and he might send them to the Back o' Beyond. All men are made +that way, and we poor women can only put up wi' their tempers and +tantrums. God help us!" + +At this moment Jepson entered with a basket filled with moss and purple +pansies. A card was attached bearing the following message: + + "_Sir Thomas Wynton sends sincere sympathy, and kind regards to + Mrs. and Miss Campbell. He will not intrude on their grief at + present, but will call in a few days._" + +Isabel laid her face against the flowers, Mrs. Campbell read the card +with pleasure, and a slight flush of color came back to her cheeks. + +"This bit of card will give me the upper hand of a' the clashing jades, +who come here wondering and sighing, and doubting and fearing. I shall +shake it in their faces, and bid them tak' notice that Sir Thomas Wynton +is still in the family as it were. And I shall make one other observe +anent the marriage failure, that Sir Thomas will take as personal, any +and all unpleasant remarks concerning the Campbells." + +"When Sir Thomas pays his visit----" + +"You be to see that Dora is present. The creature has a wonderful way o' +saying consoling words. I hae noticed that all men find her pleasant and +satisfactory. She has the trick o' speaking just what they want to +hear--the jade!" + +"Do speak decently of Dora, mother. She is Robert's wife." + +"More's the pity. God help the poor man! Little pleasure he has wi' +her." + +"It is not her fault." + +"I see how it is--she will lead you wrong next." + +"No one can lead me wrong. I wonder if Sir Thomas went to see Robert +to-day." + +"I think Robert would go and see him. We may wonder all day, but we will +know, when Robert comes home; that is, if his temper will let him talk. +_Dod!_ but he is a true Campbell--flesh, blood, and bone." + +"When Robert was in love with Dora, love made him a kind, good-tempered +man." + +"Kind men are not profitable in a house; they give where they ought to +grip; and it is a sma' share o' this world you will get wi' good temper. +You be to threep, and threaten for what you want, and the fires in the +furnaces would soon burn low, if there was a kind, good-tempered man +watching o'er them." + +"Now you are talking like yourself, mother. You will soon put your +trouble under your feet." + +"Weel, I am not going to sit down on the ash-heap wi' it, as the parfect +man o' Uz did--if there ever was such a man--which I am doubting; all +the mair, because nobody I ever heard of could tell me in what country +on the face o' the globe a place called Uz might be found. If there isna +a place called Uz, it is mair than likely there never was a man called +Job." + +"The Bible says there was." + +"Ay, in a parable. The Bible is aye ready to drop into a parable." + +"Mother, if you would try and sleep now." + +"I will not. I would get sick if I did. I am on watch at present, for I +am not up to mark, and I will not gie sickness the fine opportunity o' +sleep. If Robert comes hame reasonable, I'll have my talk out wi' him. +I am not going to suffer his contradictions, not if I know it." + +Fortunately Robert came home early, and was in a civil and communicative +mood. He said "he had been to see Sir Thomas, and had been treated in +the most considerate manner." + +"What did he say about Christina?" asked Isabel timidly. + +"He would hear no wrong of her. He said she had written him a beautiful +letter, a most honorable letter, a letter he would prize to his dying +hour. He thought she had done right, both for herself and him. He told +me she had returned all his gifts, and he had directed the jeweler to +hold them for her further orders. He thinks she will be sure to call +there, in order to find out if they have been given to him, and he has +left a note with the jewels, begging her to keep them as a sign of their +friendship, and a reminder of the pleasant hours they have spent +together. A most unusual and gentlemanly way of looking at things, I +must say." + +"Will he take a share in the works now?" asked Mrs. Campbell. + +"I do not know. He is going abroad as soon as he has rearranged his +affairs. He said he would call on you in a few days." + +"He sent us some lovely flowers," said Isabel. + +"He is a most wasteful man." + +"He sent mother and me pansies in a lovely basket lined with moss; they +were to say for him he would 'remember' us. And he sent Dora the same +basket, filled with white hyacinths. Oh, how sweet they were!" + +"And what did they say?" + +"I looked for their meaning, and found it was 'unobtrusive loveliness.' +You see Dora rarely came into the parlor, when he called." + +"That may be so, but he had no business to notice her absence. +'Unobtrusive' indeed, and 'loveliness.' Some men don't know when they go +too far." + +"He meant all in kindness," said Mrs. Campbell, "and I hope he will +call." + +Sir Thomas kept his promise. Three days after Christina had so +mercilessly jilted him, he called on her mother and sister. But by this +time he had taken a still more exalted view of his false love's conduct. +He told Mrs. Campbell, that it was not sympathy, but congratulations, +that were due her. Was she not the proud mother of a noble daughter, +whom neither rank nor wealth could lure from the paths of truth and +honor? Of a daughter who held love as beyond price, and who would not +wrong either his or her own heart. He waxed eloquent on this subject, +and was tearful over the lost treasure of her noble daughter's +affection. And Mrs. Campbell smiled grimly, and wondered "if he really +thought she was silly enough to believe he believed in any such +balderdash." + +Isabel certainly believed in him with all her heart, and was never weary +of his chivalrous, exalted platitudes; and like all men in love +trouble, Sir Thomas was never weary of talking of his wounded heart, and +lost bride. So Isabel quickly became his favorite confidant. She +listened patiently and with evident interest; she helped him to praise +Christina, and when he got to wiping his eyes, Isabel was ready to weep +with him. + +In a couple of weeks he began to talk of his intended travel, and on +this subject Isabel was sincerely inquisitive and enthusiastic. The +strongest desire of her heart was to travel in strange countries, and +she asked so many questions about the trip Sir Thomas proposed taking, +that he brought his maps and guidebooks, and showed her his route down +the Mediterranean to Greece, up the Adriatic to Montenegro and +Herzegovina, over the Dalmatian mountains, through Austria and Hungary +to Buda-Pesth, northward to Prague, Berlin, and Hamburg, into the +Baltic, and so by Zealand and the Skager Rack across the North Sea to +England again. Oh, what a heaven it opened up to the reserved, solitary +woman! + +It was impossible for Isabel to hide her delight, and so when this trip +had been thoroughly talked over, he came one wet afternoon with the +books and maps explanatory of his last journey, which had been +altogether on the American continent. He showed her where he had hunted +big game in the forests of the Hudson Bay Company, and he described to +her the old cities of French Canada. Many afternoons were spent in +talking about New York, Chicago, St. Louis, San Francisco, and the +wonders of California, Alaska, and Texas. Finally, he carried her to +Brazil and Cuba, to the West Indies and to the beautiful Bermudas. + +In these parlor wanderings, she lived a life far, far apart from the +wet, dull streets of Glasgow, and the monotonous ennui and strife of +Traquair House; besides which advantage, both Sir Thomas and herself +lost in such pleasant loiterings the first sore pangs of their bereaved +hearts. For obvious reasons, both Robert and Mrs. Campbell tolerated +these--to them--tiresome recollections. Robert considered the baronet +yet as a possible business contingent; and Mrs. Campbell silenced all +doubtful sympathizers with remarks about his friendship, and his +constant visits. One Sabbath she managed affairs so cleverly, that he +even went to Dr. Robertson's church, sat in their pew, and returned home +to dine with them. The next day he started on his two years' travel, +promising to write Isabel descriptions of all the wonderfuls he saw. + +On the night of the same day, Robert called together the women of his +household and in the bluntest words told them the strictest economy was +hence-forward to be observed. He said the wastrie of the past three or +four months was unbelievable, and it had to be made up by a steady +curtailment of all household expenses. Then turning to his mother he +asked, "in what direction she thought it best to begin?" + +She answered promptly: "You are right, Robert. The expenses of the +house have been very extravagant, and retrenchment is both wise and +necessary. I think in the first place we ought to reduce the number of +servants. One man can be spared from the stable, and the second man in +the house is not a necessity. McNab must do with one kitchen girl, +instead of two; and your son no longer needs a nurse. A boy of his age +ought to wait on himself." + +"David has not needed a nurse for a long time." + +"_Who_ did you say?" + +"David." + +"I ordered you not to call the boy by that name, in my presence." + +"It is his baptismal name. He has no other name." + +"Call him Nebuchadnezzar, or Satan, or any name you like in your own +room, but in my presence----" + +"His name is always David. I was going to remind you that Ducie has been +a general servant in the house for many months. She has assisted your +chambermaid, helped McNab in the kitchen, and Jepson about the table. I +think she has been the most effective maid in the house." + +"She may have been chambermaid, cook, and butler rolled into one, but +she is not wanted here, and the sooner she finds her way back to Kendal +the better every one will like it." + +Then Theodora quietly gathered the silks with which she was working, and +without noise or hurry left the room. She heard her mother-in-law's +scornful laugh, and her husband's angry voice as she closed the door, +but she allowed neither to detain her in an atmosphere so highly charged +with hatred and opposition. + +In about an hour Robert strode into her parlor, and with a lowering face +and peevish voice asked: "Why did you go away?" + +"There was no further reason for my presence, and more than one reason +why it was better for me to go away." + +"It is evident you feel no interest in the curtailment of my expenses." + +"I am sure that curtailment is not necessary. You gave your shareholders +a dividend of ten-per-cent a short time ago, and you are always +complaining that the business is too large for you to carry alone. And I +do not see that there is the smallest curtailment in your personal +expenses." + +"Pray what have you to do with my personal expenses?" + +"I speak of them because I personally have no expenses from which to +draw conclusions." + +"I suppose you have as many personal expenses as any other woman. My +mother thinks you have more." + +"Your mother grudges me the little food I eat. How much money have you +given me during the six years I have been your wife?" + +"I have paid all your bills." + +"What kind of bills?" + +"All kinds." + +"No. You have paid for a physician when I was sick--nothing else. I have +bought little new clothing, and what I have bought I paid for." + +"You did not require new clothing." + +"When it was to renew and alter, I paid all expenses with my own money." + +"_You! You have no money!_ All the money you have is mine. I have +allowed you to use it for your personal expenses. Many husbands would +not have done so." + +"It was my money, Robert. I made it before I even knew your name." + +"It was all my money the moment you were my wife." + +"It is all gone now. I had to borrow a sovereign from Ducie." + +"Good gracious! What an absurdity! What did you want with a sovereign? +You have credit in half-a-dozen shops." + +"I wanted money, not credit. I cannot buy stamps, stationery, music, +medicine, and many other things with credit. And the church wants cash +always. I cannot pay church dues with credit. When I borrowed a +sovereign from Ducie I wanted a prescription of Dr. Fleming's made up." + +"You have credit at Starkie's." + +"Starkie does not make up prescriptions. I had to send to Fraser's and I +have no credit at Fraser's." + +Then he threw a sovereign on the table and said: "Pay Ducie at once. I +do not want her chattering all over Glasgow and Kendal." + +"So you have decided to send Ducie away?" + +"Yes." + +"She is all that is left me of my old happy life. Oh, Robert, Robert! +have some pity on me." + +"My mother and sister are giving up three servants. Surely you can +relinquish one." + +"It is Scot in the stable, who gives up his helper. It is Jepson in the +house, it is McNab in the kitchen. None of these three servants affect +your mother's and sister's comfort in the least. Ducie is everything to +David and myself. She keeps our rooms clean and comfortable, brings my +breakfast, waits on me when I am sick, walks out with David when I am +not able to do so, and in many other ways makes things more bearable. I +beg you, Robert, not to send her away." + +"Then the other three servants must also remain." + +"You are not poor, you only feel poor because you spent so much on +Christina." + +"Who was a wicked failure, and mother says you were the prompter of her +sinful conduct." + +"Me! I had no more to do with her final choice than your mother had. I +did not even know the name of the man she married." + +"But you talked sentiment, poetry, honor, and such stuff to her." + +"Never. She would not have understood me if I had." + +"What do you mean?" + +"What I say, Christina turned sentiment, poetry, honor, and such stuff, +into laughter. She saw only one side of any person or thing--the comic +side. If she could mimic you, she partly understood you; if she could +not mimic you, then you were uninteresting and unknowable. But Christina +was as kind to me as she could be to any one. She is gone, and I have no +friend left here." + +"Am I not your friend?" + +"You are my husband. I have had many friends, none of them were the +least like you." + +"A poor man between his mother and his wife is in a desperate fix." + +"He is, because he has no business to be in such a position. It is an +unnatural one--a forbidden one. Until a man is willing to give up his +mother, he has no right to take a wife. Under all conditions it must be +one or the other; the two existing happily together are so rare, that +they are merely exceptions that prove the rule." + +"It would have been very hard on my mother, had I given her up for a +wife." + +"Yet your mother took her husband away from his mother, and so backward +goes it, to the Eden days of every race. And you also made the same +mistake that Rebekah told Isaac she was weary of her life for--you +married a stranger, and because of this, she is continually asking, as +Rebekah did, What good is my life to me with this daughter of Heth under +my roof? And also she has made our lives of no good to us!" + +"Is it not my duty to love and honor my mother? Is it not right?" + +"It is your duty, and your right also, to love and honor the wife whom +you have persuaded to leave her father and mother, her home and +friends." + +"Then the right of the mother, and the right of the wife, are both +positive?" + +"So positive that both cannot be served in the same place, and at the +same time; for the one right will be broken to pieces against the other +right, since there is no community of feeling between the family claim +of the mother and the moral and natural claim of the wife." + +"Then what is a man to do?" + +"'A man shall leave father and mother, and cleave unto his wife.' That +is the imperative, and ultimate decision of the God and Father of us +all. And if it were not the nearly universal rule, what miserable, +loveless children would be born, and how the jealous, quarrelling +families of the earth would have become hateful in God's sight. We have +only to consider our own case. Until your mother came between us, we +loved each other truly, and were very happy." + +"A man with a big business, Dora, has something else to think of than +love." + +"In his hours of business, yes; but in his hours of relaxation, his love +ought to rest and refresh him." There was a movement in the next room, +and Theodora went there with light, swift steps. Robert was walking +moodily up and down, and through the open door he saw her kneeling by a +large chair, and David's arms were round her neck, and she was telling +him he must now go to bed. "Were you tired, that you fell asleep here?" +she asked, and he answered: "I was waiting for you, mother, to hear my +prayer, and kiss me good-night; and the sleep came to me." + +Then she sat down, and David knelt at her knees, and said the Lord's +prayer, adding to it a petition for blessing on his father, his +grandmother Campbell, his aunts Isabel and Christina, his grandfather +and grandmother Newton, and his dear mother, with a final petition that +God would love David and make him a good boy. It was a scene so sweet +and natural that Robert stood still in respect to the simple rite, +vaguely wondering in what forgotten life he had spoken words like them. + +Then Theodora called Ducie, and gave the child into her care, but as he +was leaving the room he saw his father, and running to him, he said: +"Father, kiss David too." Robert's heart stirred to the eager request, +and he lifted the little lad in his arms, and actually did kiss him. In +that moment the pretty face with its glances so free, so bright, so +seeking, without guile or misgiving, impressed itself on Robert's memory +forever. Even after the child had gone away, he felt as if he still held +him, and the consciousness of the soft, rosy cheek against his own was +so vivid that he put his hand up and stroked his cheek until the +sensation left him. + +He was really in a great strait of feeling, and, if he could not do +right of himself, was in a strait, out of which there was no other +decent way. He looked longingly at Theodora, who had resumed her work, +and her pale, passionless face touched him by its complete contrast to +the face he had just left--the hard, gossipy, pitiless, scornful face of +his mother. He could not forget his son's prayer. He knew it well, he +himself was never one to prompt, nor to correct, so it was certain that +Theodora had taught the boy to pray for those who constantly spoke evil +of her. He resolved to tell his mother of this incident, and again he +tried to read the feeling on his wife's face. It was not depression, it +was not sorrow, it was far from anger, there was nothing of indifference +in it, and nothing restless or uncertain. He did not understand it. How +could such a man as Robert understand a life of pure piety and +intelligence, working its way upward through love and pain. + +He sat down by her and touched her hand, but said only one word: +"Theodora!" She lifted her sad, lovely eyes to his. "Theodora!" he said +again, and she laid her hand in his, and whispered "Robert!" Then his +kiss brought back the color to her cheeks and the light to her eyes, and +when he vowed that he loved her and David more dearly than any other +mortals, she believed him; and found sweet words to excuse all his +faults, and to tell him he was "loved with all her heart." + +Was she a foolish woman to forgive so easily, and so much? It was +because she loved so much that she could forgive so much, and of such +loving, foolish hearts is the Kingdom of Heaven. For no love is so swift +and welcome as returning love. Even the angels desire to witness the +reunion of hearts that have been kept apart by fault, or fate, and as +for Theodora, she had the courage to be happy in this promise of better +days, knowing that she came not to this house by accident, but that it +was the very place God had chosen for her. Besides which, the heart has +its arguments as well as the head, and at this hour she was judging +Robert by her love, and not by her understanding. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE LAST STRAW + + +For a few days Theodora clung tenaciously to her hope, but it had only +told her a flattering tale. Robert had gradually fallen below the +plane--moral and intellectual--on which his wife lived; and it was only +by a painful endeavor, that he returned to the Robert of six years +previously. His wife's conversation, though bright and clever, was not +as pleasant to him as his mother's biting gossip about the house and the +callers; and he could assume a slippered, careless toilet in her +presence, that made him uncomfortable when at the side of the always +prettily gowned Theodora. For when such a circumstance happened, he +involuntarily felt compelled to apologize, and he did not think +apologies belonged to his position as master of the house. He had lost +his taste for music, unless there was some stranger present whom he +desired to make envious or astonished; in fact he had descended to that +commonplace stage of love, which values a wife or a mistress only +according to the value set upon her by outsiders--by their envy and +jealousy of himself, as the clever winner of such an extraordinary +artist, or beauty. Consequently, in a time of economy, forbidding the +entertainment of strangers, Theodora's hours of supremacy were likely +to be few and far between. + +But this fact did not trouble Robert. He came home from the works tired +of the business world, and the household chatter of his mother was a +relief that cost him no surrender of any kind. Yet had Theodora +attempted the same rôle, he would have seen and felt at once its malice +and injustice, and despised her for destroying his ideals and illusions. +Thus, even her excellencies were against her. Again, Mrs. Campbell +disguised much of the real character of her abuse, in the +picturesqueness of the Scotch patois; nothing she said in this form +sounded as wicked and cruel as it would have done in plain English. But +this disguise would have been a ridiculous effort in Theodora, and could +only have subjected her to scorn and laughter; while it was native to +her enemy, and a vivid and graphic vehicle both for her malice and her +mockery. + +Thus, when Robert was rising to go to his own parlor, she would say: +"Smoke another cigar, Robert, or light your pipe, boy. I dinna dislike a +pipe, I may say freely, I rather fancy it. It doesna remind me o' the +stable, and I have no nerves to be shocked by its vulgarity. God be +thankit, I was born before nerves were in fashion! And He knows that one +nervous woman in a house is mair than enou'. I am sorry for ye, my lad!" + +"It is not Dora's nerves, mother; it is her refined taste. She thinks a +pipe low, common, plebeian, you know, and for the same reason she hates +me to wear a cap--she thinks it makes me look like a workingman. Dora is +quite aristocratic, you know," and he mimicked the English accent and +idioms, and saw nothing repellent in an old woman giggling at him. + +"It is nerves, my lad," she answered, "pure nerves, and nerves are a' +imagination. Whenever did I, or your sisters, or any o' our flesh and +blood have an attack o' the nerves? Whenever did a decent pipe o' +tobacco, or the smell o' a good salt herring mak' any o' us sick at the +stomach? Was there ever a Campbell made vulgar, or low, by a cap on his +head? 'Deed they are pretty men always, but prettiest of a' when they +are wearing the Glengary wi' a sprig o' myrtle in the front o' it. +_Dod!_ it makes me scunner at some folks' aristocracy. I trow, I am as +weel born as any Methodist preacher's daughter, and I have kin behind me +and around me to show it; but you can smoke a pipe, or cap your head, or +slipper your feet, and my fine feelings willna suffer for a moment." + +"You are mother--you understand." + +"To be sure I do. Poor lad, ye hae lots to fret ye, and nane need a pipe +o' tobacco, or an easy _déshabille_ mair than you do; if you are +understanding what I mean by _déshabille_--I'm not vera sure mysel', but +I'm thinking it means easy fitting clothes on ye; that is my meaning o' +the word anyhow, and I don't care a bawbee, whether it is the French +meaning or not." + +"You are all right, mother. You generally are all right." + +"I am always all right, Robert; and that you find out in the long run, +don't ye, my lad?" + +Her conversation was constantly of this vulgar, commonplace type, but it +carried home veiled doubts and innuendos, as no other form could have +done; and it was homelike and familiar to Robert. With it as the vehicle +for her flattery and her iron will, she managed her son as no sensitive, +truthful, honorable woman could have done, unless she flung delicacy, +truth, and honor aside, and went down into moral slums to find her ways +and weapons. + +On the fourth evening after the promising reconciliation, Robert said: +"I want a whiff of strong tobacco, Dora. I have been fretted all day, so +I will go into the library to smoke to-night." + +"I will go with you, Robert. I do not believe the tobacco will make me +sick. You know when it did so, there were reasons why----" + +"You must do nothing of the kind, Dora. I cannot have you made ill, and +the fear of it doing so would take away all the comfort I might derive +from it." + +"But, Robert----" + +"No, no! I shall come to the parlor, and smoke a cigar, if you insist." + +"I shall not insist. You will not stay long away from me, dear?" + +"When my smoke is finished, I will come." + +Then he went to the library, and in a few minutes his mother followed +him there. As housekeeper, she had formulated less extravagant menus for +the table, and some other small economies, and their discussion was her +excellent excuse--if she needed an excuse, which she rarely did. Among +these economies, the dismissal of Ducie came to question again, and +Robert said he "thought Ducie would have to remain. Dora had set her +heart on keeping her," he continued, "and I think it will also be more +comfortable for me, mother." + +"Nonsense! It will not affect you in any way." + +"There is Dora's breakfast, who is to carry it upstairs to her?" + +"It is quite time that nonsense was stopped! Let the high-stomached +English 'my lady' come to the family breakfast table. It is good enou' +for the like o' her. But I'll tell you how it is. McNab has the habit o' +humoring her wi' dainties--mushrooms on toast, a few chicken livers, and +the like; and our decent oatmeal, and bread and feesh, arena as delicate +as food should be, for this daughter o' a poor Methodist preacher." + +"Come, mother, her father at least is a servant of God, one of His +messengers, and there is no nobility like to that in this world. You +know well, that Scotland has always paid more honor to God's servants, +than to the servants of earthly princes." + +"Scotsmen arena infallible in their religious views. I ken one thing +sure, and that is ministers' daughters hae been the deil's daughters to +me, and to my sons--vera Eves o' temptation wi' the apple o' sin and +misery in their hands for my two bonnie lads." + +"I wonder, mother, where my brother is." + +"He is dead. I comfort mysel' wi' that thought. Death was the best thing +that could happen him. The poor lad, not long out o' his teens, and tied +to a wife, and to the wife's mother likewise. Never was a finer lad +flung to the mischief than your brother Da--nay, my tongue willna speak +his name. Now then, remember your brother, and don't let your wife ruin +you, Robert." + +"There is no mother-in-law in my case--it is my wife that has the +mother-in-law," and he laughed in a grim, self-satisfied way. + +The mother-in-law in question was not offended, far from it; she laughed +too, and then answered: "Ay, the poor lass has the mother-in-law, but +you hae the mother, and be thankfu' for the gift and the grace o' her. +Your mother willna see you wronged, nor put upon. She'll back you up in +a' that is for your authority and welfare. She will that!" + +"Well, well! We were talking of Ducie." + +"Ducie is the backer-up against you, and she be to go to her ain folks +to-morrow. That is what I intend." + +"I do not believe you will succeed in getting rid of her." + +"If you will leave the matter entirely to me, I will rid the house o' +her." + +With this question unsettled between them, it was easy to make trouble, +and Robert was cowardly enough to leave it to the women, though he knew +well that a few decisive words from himself would put an end to the +dispute. Mrs. Campbell was glad he did not say them. She enjoyed the +thought of the probable fray, and only waited until Robert had gone to +business the next day to begin it. + +"Jepson," she then said, "you will tell Ducie to come to my parlor at +once." + +Ducie was expecting this call, and she was in the mood to stand upon her +rights, which released her from all obligations to obey Mrs. Traquair +Campbell's orders. So she loitered in her room putting curls over her +brow, in the way they were peculiarly offensive to Mrs. Campbell, adding +to this saucy misdemeanor earrings, and two pink bows, a ring on her +engagement finger, an embroidered apron, and slippers with rosettes +holding a small imitation diamond buckle. Before these preparations were +quite complete there was another very peremptory message for her, and +she laughingly told Jepson to inform his mistress, that she "hadn't made +up her mind yet, whether she would call on her, or not." + +Jepson toned down this message to a respectful apology for delay, and +Mrs. Campbell was on the point of sending another order, when Ducie +entered her room. + +"I sent for you to come _at once_. Why didn't you?" + +"I was busy." + +"What were you doing?" + +"Dressing myself." + +"You have dressed yourself like a fool." + +"Please, ma'am, that is something you have nought to do with. My +mistress told me how to dress. I am going out with her and Master David +to dinner." + +"Where are you going to dinner?" + +"I was not bid to say where." + +"You were bid _not_ to tell me." + +"My mistress did not name you." + +"You cannot go out. You will help McNab in the kitchen until two +o'clock." + +"I am not forced to do anything you tell me, ma'am, and I don't know as +I ever will again." + +"You are a lazy, impudent baggage." + +"Now then, that will do, ma'am. You are the last that ought to speak of +my laziness, for I've been working for you three months, and never got a +sixpence, or a penny piece, for all I did. Thanks, I never expected; for +it's only black words you keep by you; and as for black looks, if you +could sell them by the yard, you might start an undertaking business." + +"Do you know who you are talking to?" + +"Yes, but I don't know as ever I talked with a worse woman." + +"I will make you suffer for your impertinence." + +"That's likely, for you hurt people out of pure wickedness." + +"Your month is up to-day at five o'clock. You will help McNab until two. +Then you will pack your trunk, and come to me for your wage. There is a +train for Kendal at four o'clock. You will take it. You will leave this +house at half-past three." + +"It caps all to listen to you. But the outside of this house is the +_right_ side for anybody who expects decent treatment. I am going with +my mistress at half-past eleven, and I shall come back here with her, +when she returns. And thanks be, ma'am, I am not going to Kendal. I am +going to be married, and teach one Glasgow man how to treat a wife." + +"You will come to me at three o'clock for your month's wage." + +"You did not hire me, ma'am, and I don't take my pay from you. My +mistress is now waiting for me," and with these words she turned to +leave the room. + +"Ducie! Ducie! Come here instantly!" + +But Ducie had closed the door, and did not hear, at least she did not +answer. Then Mrs. Campbell followed her, and in something of a passion +assailed Theodora. + +"That impudent wench of yours has been behaving most rudely to me, Dora. +I want her until two o'clock, can you not make her obey me?" + +"I am going out to dinner, and need her very much. She has to take +charge of David." + +"Leave the boy at home." + +"I cannot." + +"Where are you going?" + +"To Mrs. Oliphant's. They are dining early to-day, and I shall be home +before dark." + +"That will be too late. I must have her now." + +"I cannot make her work for you, if she does not wish." Then turning to +Ducie she asked, "if she would not obey Mrs. Campbell's desire?" + +"No, ma'am," was the straight answer. "I would not lift a finger for +Mrs. Campbell." + +"You hear what she says." + +"She has talked in the most shameful way to me. I think Jepson must have +left the whiskey bottle around." + +"Oh, no! Ducie hates whiskey. She would not touch it." + +"Pay her what you owe her, and send her off." + +"I have no money to pay anything." + +"I will lend you the money." + +"I do not wish to discharge her. She satisfies me thoroughly. I see no +reason to send her away." + +"You have the best of all reasons--my order to do so." + +"I will ask Robert to-night." + +"You will ask Robert, will you? So shall I." + +Then Theodora called David, and the little lad came running to her. He +was wearing a kilt of the Campbell tartan, a small philabeg, a black +velvet jacket trimmed with gilt buttons, and a Glengary ornamented with +an eagle's feather. His frank, beautiful face, his strong vitality, and +his pretty manners were instantly notable, for when he saw his +grandmother was present, he lifted his cap and said: "Good-morning, +grandmother." She did not answer, though she regarded him a moment with +a pride she could not conceal, and as she left the room she told +herself: "The boy is a Scot, in spite of his English dam. He is a Scot, +even if he is not a Campbell, and please God we will mak' him a Campbell +yet." + +That day Theodora met at Mrs. Oliphant's a gentleman whom she had seen +there not unfrequently during the winter, an American called Kennedy, +and a very sincere friendship had grown up between them. After an early +dinner he asked permission to take David to a circus then in Glasgow, +and the boy's entreaties being added, Theodora could not resist them. +They went off in a hurry of delight, and finding herself alone with Mrs. +Oliphant, the long, carefully hidden sorrows of her heart burst forth in +a flood that bore away all pride, all restraint, and all the jealously +kept barriers of a long reticence and concealment. + +How it happened she never knew, but with passionate weeping she told her +friend all the miseries of her daily life, and the greater dread that +blackened and haunted her future--the terror lest David should be taken +from her, and sent to some severe, disciplinary boarding-school. Weeping +in each other's arms, the confession and consolation went on, until +Margaret Oliphant dared to say the words Theodora feared to utter. + +"You must take your child, and go where Robert Campbell will never find +you, until David is a man, and able to defend himself." + +"Thank you, Margaret. I have been longing to tell you that I see no +other conclusion. But where shall I go? India, Australia, Canada, are +all governed by English laws, and so then, anywhere in these countries, +David could be taken from me, and my husband could force me to return to +his home. So much I have learned, from similar cases to mine, reported +in the newspapers." + +"You must go to the United States. There, you may work and enjoy the +money you earn; no husband can take it from you. There, you cannot be +forced to live with a husband who treats you cruelly, and I am sure no +court would allow a child of tender age to be taken from a mother so +properly fitted to bring him up. You must have a talk with Mr. Kennedy. +He can help you. He will be glad to help you." + +"I thought he had business here." + +"He has business he thinks of great importance. His wife is dead, and he +brought her two daughters to a school she remembered in Edinburgh, but +not being sure his children would be happy there, he is staying to watch +over them." + +"Are they happy?" + +"No. He is going to take them home again, when the school closes in +June--perhaps before." + +"Then, Margaret?" + +"Then you could go with him?" + +They went over and over this plan, constantly evolving new fears and new +advantages, and were yet in the fever of the discussion, when Mr. +Kennedy and David returned. It was both David's and Ducie's first visit +to a circus, and after a few minutes' rapturous description, they were +permitted to go to another room and talk over the enchanting scenes. + +Then Mrs. Oliphant said: "Come now, David Campbell, and tell your sister +Theodora how heartily you are at her service." And the supposed Mr. +Kennedy took Theodora's hands, and said: "My dear sister. I have known +all your sad life for the last half-year. I am here to help you." + +But Theodora looked amazed and even troubled, and he sat down at her +side and continued: "I am really David Campbell, your husband's elder +brother. I am also the foster-son of Mrs. McNab, and I have heard all +from her, and have been waiting here, knowing that the end to a life so +unhappy must come, and wondering that you have borne it so long." + +Then Theodora remembered that she had heard from Ducie, that McNab had a +son come home from foreign parts, and that he took her out frequently, +and gave her many presents. And she looked into her brother-in-law's +face for some trace of his relationship, but could find none. David +Campbell was more Celt than Gael, he was tall and slender, had a gentle +voice and a manner that could only come from a good heart. His whole +appearance was aquiline and American, and he was dressed in the loose, +easy style of a citizen of the great Western Republic. After a most +critical survey, Theodora was ready to confess, that his visits to McNab +were perfectly safe from detection. + +"I have sat with the servants in the kitchen, have eaten with them, and +heard all they could tell me of your life, Theodora; and now I am at +your service with all my heart." + +"Then tell me what to do." + +"First, let me go and see your father and mother. Your father will give +us good advice, and we will not move till we get it--unless some +desperate cause intervenes." + +"Thank you. That is what I wish." + +"Give me their address." + +"I am sorry----" + +"Say nothing, I entreat you! I have no other duty in Glasgow, but to +look after you, and my splendid little namesake. And I assure you, if I +saw any other way of bringing my dear brother to his senses, I would try +it first. But not until Robert has lost you, will he find out what you +really are to him." + +"Have you seen your brother?" + +"Many a time. I have even spoken to him, but he has no recollection of +me. He cannot, for he seldom saw me. I should not have known him if I +had met him anywhere but in the Campbell iron works. He is a hard master +to his men." + +"But there is another Robert, I assure you, a Robert I only know--or +used to know. He was a noble, generous man, a man I loved with all my +soul." + +"I believe you, and that lost Robert only wants proper surroundings to +give him a chance. See! We are going to educate that other Robert. I +love my brother, Theodora, and we will work together to make him happy +in spite of himself, and the other evil powers that now hold him in +thrall." + +"O, thank you! Thank you, David! I never had a brother, but have often +longed for one. You are a true Godsend to me." + +"With God's help I will be! Your father's home is in Bradford?" + +"Yes, he lives in Hanover Square, Bradford. Any one will tell you where +the Rev. John Newton lives." + +"I will leave by to-night's train. I will tell them all--for McNab has +told me all--and your father will send his advice back by me." + +With this comfort in her heart Theodora did not feel afraid, though she +had stayed until the night had fallen. Mr. Oliphant took her home in his +carriage, and Robert was compelled to thank him for his courtesy; but he +followed his wife into their parlor with a dark countenance, and asked +her angrily, "why she put herself under obligations to people like the +Oliphants?" + +"Are there any objections to the Oliphants?" she asked. + +"My mother has never trusted them, never. And you know this." + +"Your mother trusts no one." + +"Where is Ducie?" + +"She is attending to David's supper." + +"Call her!" + +"Will not a little later do?" + +"No, I want her now." + +"Ring the bell, then." + +He looked astonished at the order, but he obeyed it. Theodora had sat +down. Her face was sad and stern, and her eyes flashed so angrily he did +not care to encounter them. + +In a few minutes Ducie appeared. She came in smiling and curtsied to her +master when he said: + +"Ducie?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"You were told to leave this house forever, at half-past three this +afternoon. Why have you not done so?" + +"The party who told me was not my mistress." + +"Am I your master?" + +"I suppose so." + +"Then listen to me. Here is your quarter's wage. As you are a young +girl, I will not send you to the street now that it is dark. You may +stay until eight o'clock to-morrow morning. Then you will go." + +"I shall go to-night, sir. I will not take a favor from you, though I +have done this house many favors." + +"Robert, Robert!" cried Theodora, "consider what you are doing. Ducie, +do not go away yet--for David's sake--let me keep Ducie, Robert." + +"David will go to school in the autumn. He wants no nurse." + +"Then let her stop until autumn. Robert, dear Robert, I entreat you that +I may keep Ducie." + +"After her impertinence to my mother, it is impossible. You ought to +feel that." + +"_Oh dear, oh dear!_" Theodora covered her face with her hands, and +burst into passionate weeping. + +Immediately Ducie was at her side comforting her. "Don't, ma'am. Please +don't cry. Ducie knows it is not your fault." + +Then Theodora unfastened the brooch at her throat and drew a ring from +her finger. + +"Take them, dear," she said. "We ought to pay you for three months' +extra work, but I have no money. You know that, Ducie. Take these +instead. Keep them for my sake, dear. Oh Ducie, Ducie! you are my only +friend here, and they are sending you away. My God, my dear God, have +pity on me!" + +She spoke rapidly in a transport of sorrowful feeling; she forced the +trinkets into Ducie's hand, and walking with her to the door, kissed her +there; then sobbing like a little child, she fell upon the sofa in +hopeless distress. + +"What folly!" cried Robert. "Who would believe all this fuss was about a +common servant girl--a disobedient, insolent servant girl. Why did she +not obey my mother's order?" + +Then Theodora rose to her feet. She put tears away, and answered +proudly: "Because I was her mistress, and I told her to come with me." + +"You told her to disobey my mother?" + +"Yes. Your mother dismissed her without my permission. Suppose I had +called your mother's chambermaid, and ordered her to leave the +house--the cases are precisely the same." + +"Not at all; mother is mistress and housekeeper. When she ordered Ducie +to leave, that was quite sufficient." + +"Do you expect me to obey your mother's orders?" + +"I obey her orders." + +"If they were kind and just orders, I would do all I could to meet them; +when they are unjust and tyrannical, I will not obey them. I will be a +partner in none of her sins and cruelties; I know a better way, if she +does not. And I must have a maid, Robert." + +"I will tell mother to hire one for you. But we shall have no more +English girls, so do not expect what you will not get." + +"Would any English girl want to come to Glasgow, for the sake of +Glasgow? That is a difficult thing to imagine." + +"And I do not approve of you giving valuable jewelry away." + +"It was my very own. I had it long before I saw you." + +"It was scandalous of Ducie to accept it. She ought not to be allowed to +carry it away. You were not responsible when you gave it." + +"And if it is scandalous for Ducie, my friend, to take a gift of my +jewelry from my hands, what about the Campbelton women, who broke open +my trunk, and took out of its case my class ring of diamonds and +sapphires, worth eighty pounds; a ring my class paid for, and gave me. +You promised me it should be returned. It never has been. Do you pretend +that ring was yours? And is everything I possess yours? And do you +permit your kindred to help themselves to whatever of mine they choose +to appropriate?" + +"You possess nothing--the hair on your head is mine. I can sell it if I +choose. Your wedding ring is mine." + +"I believe nothing of the kind. It is incredible." + +"It is the law of England." + +"You ought to have told me those things before I was married. I was +beguiled into slavery. Why are girls in school not taught such things, +if, indeed, they are true?" + +"It is the law of England. Any lawyer will tell you so." + +"Then it is contrary to the law of the Holy and Just One, and I will +never acknowledge its right. I say, and shall always say, my class ring +was stolen; and that the person who took it was, and is, a thief. The +law may give you my clothing and ornaments, and your mother, assuming +your things to be hers, may give them away; and you may call it lawful, +but justice and equity would soon dispose of that legal fiction. I shall +always deny it. To falter in doing so, would be sin." + +In uttering these words she became a Theodora he had never before seen. +Her beauty was triumphant over both her anger and her sorrow. Her +splendid eyes stabbed him with their scornful glances; her air and +attitude was regal as that of Justice herself, and her words went home +like javelins. Mentally and spiritually, he cowered before her. + +So he took out his watch and said: "Dinner is served." + +"I want no dinner." + +He answered, "Very well," but there was the look in his eyes of a man +who knows he is defrauding his own soul. And though at that moment he +understood his mother's hatred of her, and believed that he himself +hated her, yet even then, at the root of his hate, there lay a secret, +ardent thirst for her love. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THEODORA MAKES A NEW LIFE + + +It is not by grand or romantic events, that life is usually shaped; the +most trivial things are the ministers of Destiny, but no matter how +insignificant they may appear, they bring with them a sense of fatality +not to be put away. When the great dramatist would make Othello murder +Desdemona, he did not choose as a cause the loss of some priceless +necklace, or a diamond ornament, he knew intuitively that such a simple +thing as a pocket handkerchief would be more natural. + +So in Theodora's case, the everyday occurrence of a quarrel with a +servant girl was the culmination of years full of far more cogent +reasons, for her final decision to abandon a life which she was unable +to manage. But when Robert went to his dinner, and left her alone to +struggle with a defeat and a loss she felt so keenly she came to this +positive conclusion. In that hour her life was brought to the fine point +of a single word. "Yes" or "No," which was it to be? Would she accept +for herself and her child the wretched life she had unknowingly chosen? +Or, would she abandon it, and seek some happier environment? And after +half-an-hour's intense thought and feeling, she stood erect, and, +clasping her hands, uttered an emphatic "Yes!" Even at that hour, her +messenger was on his way to consult her parents, and she had little +doubt as to their decision. She believed they would bid her "Go in God's +name"; and fortified by that order, she would follow the advice David +Campbell gave her. He knew the United States well, and it was a +wonderful thing, he should have come home in this time of her trouble. +Surely he had been sent for her help and direction. + +She expected no word from her parents for about four days, but a ray of +hope had penetrated the gloom of her surroundings; and wrong and +unkindness took on a transient character. They were now merely passing +annoyances, she would have gone beyond their power in a few weeks at the +most. She resolved to make no more efforts to obtain justice, no more +efforts to win a man whom neither love nor entreaties could prevent +acting after his kind. She would now permit him to lay up grievances, +with which to wound himself when he could no longer wound her. A sense +of peace, coming from her acceptance of destiny, gave to her a singular +calmness of manner and countenance, and a renewed alertness of mind, and +mental lucidity. + +In the morning Ducie, wearing her hat and cloak, served her late +mistress and little David with their breakfast; then the three parted +forever. David cried bitterly; the women had no tears left. In +half-an-hour McNab came to remove the tray. + +"I would leave your room as it is, ma'am," she said. "It will be seen +to. Tak' my advice, and dinna lift a finger to it. Yoursel' and Master +David will be getting your breakfast ten minutes earlier, for I am going +to look after that bit business mysel'. You needna fret a moment anent +the matter. It's settled." + +"I do not intend to fret about anything, McNab." + +"That's right. It is a lang lane that has no turning. You are coming to +the turning, I think." + +"I think so." + +"But I wouldn't let on I saw it." + +"Neither by look, nor word." + +"That's right, too. If wanted, call McNab, but be sparing o' +calls--there is both watcher and listener. I'm telling you." + +"I know." + +Theodora smiled understandingly, and McNab left the room, but left +behind her a strong sense of guardianship and love. Yet just then McNab +was rather in the dark, for her foster-son had not had time to tell her +of his journey to Yorkshire. But uncertainty did not dash McNab, she had +one of those blessed dispositions that are always sure no news is good +news; and who always expect the "something" that may have happened, to +be something wonderfully auspicious. + +"Perhaps my lad had a word with her yesterday," she thought, "and +perhaps he is making a move--for he wouldn't move without her word. I +dare say that is just what has happened." She satisfied herself with +this belief, and to the hopeful and cheerful, good angels send their +heart's desire. + +So Theodora sat still and let the house go on. Not until she was +dressing for dinner did a maid come to attend to her rooms, but she made +no remark. A short time afterwards, the girl returned with a letter and +the information, that it had been opened by Mrs. Campbell through +mistake. It was from Theodora's publisher, and purported to contain a +check for seventy pounds and fifteen shillings for royalties due her. +But the check was not in the letter. Her heart beat wildly, her cheeks +burned, she rose as if to go and inquire for it; but on second thoughts +she sat down and waited until Robert came into the room. Then she showed +him the letter. He barely glanced at it, then threw it on the table. + +"Will you ask your mother for my money, Robert? I want to buy David and +myself some necessary clothing." + +"I have the check." + +"Give it to me, Robert. I need it so much." + +"I put it in my pocket-book, because it is mine. I give it to you, +because I choose to give it to you. Most husbands would not do so." + +"You need not at every opportunity tell me that I have no rights, and no +money, even if I myself have earned the money. One telling of such awful +injustice is enough. I wish to know if my letters are also yours?" + +"If I choose to claim them, they are mine." + +"Are they also free to your mother?" + +"If I choose to make them so." + +"Then I will do without letters." + +"You can please yourself." + +She did not answer, and he went into the dining-room. In a short time +she steadied herself sufficiently to follow him, but no one but Isabel +took the slightest notice of her. Mrs. Campbell was in high spirits, and +talked with her son in a jocular way about some event of which Theodora +was ignorant. Jepson watched her plate and saw that she was attended to, +and Isabel showed her disapproval of her mother's and brother's behavior +by a sullen silence. For she was slow-minded, and could think of no way +to express her sympathy with Theodora, except sulking at those who were +annoying her. But she rose from the table when Theodora rose, and when +Theodora said "Good-night, Isabel," she answered: "I should like to come +into your parlor for a few minutes--if agreeable." + +"You are very welcome, Isabel." + +"Thank you. I only wanted to say, that I had nothing to do with the +opening of your letter. I would no more open your letter, than I would +pick your pocket." + +"I am sure of that, Isabel. I wish you were my friend. I am very lonely +since Christina went away. Have you heard from her?" + +"Not one word. I am very lonely too. Good-night." + +And Theodora thought until sleep came of the girl's sad face, and pitied +her more than she pitied herself. For hope was building a new life in +her heart, and she looked forward to a future, that in its freedom, +beauty, and usefulness would atone for the present, and the past years +of her married life; but, oh the sameness, and ennui, and moral and +mental death of a life without aim or purpose, without love or +expectations, or sensible work to do. + +Early on the fourth day Mrs. Oliphant called, and brought Theodora a +letter. She professedly came to ask Theodora to drive with her, and when +her invitation was declined, did not remain many minutes. But Mrs. +Campbell watched her coming and going, and made plenty of sarcastic +remarks about both the lady and her dress, her carriage and her horses +and servants. Isabel was scarcely conscious of them. Since the loss of +her sister she had become still more severe, intense, and reticent; +besides which, though no one suspected the movement, Isabel was +considering a break in social custom, undreamed of by the severely +proper maidens of her set. + +It related to Sir Thomas Wynton. She had had a letter from him +describing his journey to Paris, and his present life in that city, and +he had asked Isabel to write him "all the news she could gather about +Wynton village, and their friends in Glasgow, and to add also anything +social, political, or religious she thought would interest him." And +this request had opened up a pleasant prospect of collecting and +arranging all the news she could glean from people, or from newspapers, +and then writing the result to Sir Thomas. It was a wild, a daring +thing for Isabel Campbell to attempt, but she had resolved to ask no +one's advice about the right or the wrong of it. She would decide the +matter for herself, and she was trying to do so while her mother was +mocking at Mrs. Oliphant's dress and general appearance. + +Meantime Theodora watched her friend away, and then went into her +parlor, locking the door after closing it. David was busy with his slate +and pencil in the music room, and she locked the door of that room also. +Then she sat down with her letter in her hand, and after a moment's +uplifting of her heart, she opened it and read the following words: + + "MY DEAR THEODORA:--Your mother and I have thoroughly + considered all your good brother-in-law has told us. I will not + dwell on our surprise and sorrow. I will but say, that you + ought to put an end at once to a life which is dwarfing you on + every side, and must be fast ruining your husband's better + nature. For the cruelty and injustice done at first reluctantly + has evidently become to him a necessary alternative to the + dreariness of his business life. As some men find amusement in + badgering and baiting animals, he apparently satisfies the same + brutal instinct by baiting a wife whom our cruel laws has + placed in his absolute power. I counsel you to leave him before + conditions are worse, and some tragedy results. Take David + Campbell's advice as to the locality where you may dwell in + peace and safety. I approve what he has proposed to us so + entirely, that whenever you are ready to move, your mother and + I will go with you, though it should be to the ends of the + earth. Think a moment, and you will understand that you must go + with us, and not with your brother-in-law. I shall write to the + Chairman of Conference to-day and resign my pastorate, and you + know a Methodist preacher and his wife can move almost at a + day's notice. Our clothing is all we personally own. My future + is prepared for. There is nothing to fear. The Great Companion + will go with us. Wherever your new home is made, our home will + be made, and we will pray together for the man you still love. + He will return to you "clothed and in his right mind." Do not + doubt. Go away and rest your aching heart. Has the sun of your + love set? Some blessing lies in the night; do not fear the + darkness. Rest, and the sun of love will rise again. I append a + few reasons why you should at this crisis leave your husband. + If you are fully satisfied in your own mind, you can neglect + them. + + "1st. Habit reconciles us to much suffering, but a miserable + marriage is a trial no one has any business to have. It is + without excuse, and therefore without comfort. Submission to + evils God ordains is the height of energy and nobility; + submission to the mistakes we ourselves make is the climax of + weakness and cowardice. If two cannot live together in peace, + they had better separate than cause each other to sin every + day. + + "2d. If you know you are on a wrong road, leave it; a wrong + road cannot lead you right. + + "3d. If you are sick, and the surgeon's knife is necessary, do + not waste time with drugs and sedatives. Accept the knife as + restorative. + + "4th. If you make a mistake of any kind, it is your manifest + duty to rectify it, or to spring out of its shadow; and an + unhappy marriage is the most pathetic of all mistakes. If, + however, you have made an unhappy marriage, why should you give + permanency to wrong, and finality to suffering? There are no + elements of reformation in the irrevocable, it is a hell + without hope and without energy. + + "5th. You must not judge your position near the twentieth + century by the laws of Moses. The Church has gone back to them + for authority to burn witches, and buy and sell slaves, and + collect tithes, etc. We are come unto Bethlehem, and are not + under the laws of Sinai. The laws of England are cruel enough + to wives; there is no need to go back to Leviticus. + + "6th. Christ truly said, 'What God has joined together, let no + man put asunder.' What _God_ joins together, no man can put + asunder. Poverty, sorrow, care, shame, helplessness only draw + the bond tighter. They go to the grave together, and with a + noble constancy look across the grave to an immortal + companionship. + + "I dare say, my dear daughter, you have thought of all these + things; think now of what good you can do each other by + separation: + + "1st. Robert is under wrong influences, while you are present + to provoke them. Day by day he is learning to be more and more + cruel. But when he has lost you, he will remember your + sweetness and goodness, and long for you, + + '_For we never know the worth of a thing, + Until we have thrown it away._' + + "2d. That evil old woman is growing constantly in all malice, + cruelty, and sin. Be no longer an occasion for her wickedness. + + "3d. You yourself are wasting your life in Doubting Castle. + Hopeful found the key of it in his breast. Do likewise. You + ought to be in the very height and glory of your existence. You + are doing nothing, learning nothing, losing everything. Make a + change; you cannot make it too quickly. It will probably + ploughshare and harrow your heart, as the farmer ploughshares + and harrows the field; but after this preparation, you can sow + the seeds of your future happiness. Now all seed sowing is a + mystery, whether in the heart, or in the field, but sow in love + and in faith, and the harvest will truly better all your + expectations. Think well over your movements, but do not think + till you cannot act. Begin at once to prepare for what must be + done, keeping in mind the good motto of the Eighty-seventh + Regiment: '_Clear the Way!_' sweep every fear and doubt out of + it, all encumbrances of body or mind. Carry no old grudges or + offences with you, no sad memories. Step out into the new way + with a trusting, cheerful, childlike spirit, and be sure and + take the Great Companion with you. Mother will write you + to-morrow. + + Your loving parents, + + "JOHN AND MARY NEWTON." + +This letter "cleared the way," for Theodora, and with the daring +decision of fresh young faculties, she grasped the whole position +confidently. She saw that she must, for the present, give up her +husband--it was absolutely necessary and remedial. But she also saw a +future with him that should redeem the whole unhappy past. She saw it, +because from her long trial she had brought a three-edged spirit, +tempered and polished by the fires of many afflictions; and an Inner +Woman perfect--no member wanting, none sick or disabled, an Inner Woman +full-grown, ready for any emergency, with time for everything human. She +had also been much encouraged and strengthened by her father's prompt +preparation, and she told herself, as she carefully destroyed the +letter, that as the thing was to do, it were well to do it as soon as +possible. + +As if to urge her to this finality, her home became still more +uncomfortable after Ducie's departure. Day after day passed, but no girl +was hired in Ducie's place, and Mrs. Campbell's chambermaid never +reached Theodora's rooms, until it was time for her to dress for dinner. +Indeed, it appeared as if the girl had been ordered to wait until her +presence would be the most annoying. And in a few days, the question of +breakfast became a serious one. One morning Mrs. Campbell met McNab on +the stairway with the tray containing Theodora's and David's breakfast +in her hands. She looked angrily at the woman, and said in slow, +positive words: + +"Take that tray back to the kitchen!" + +"It is Mrs. Campbell's and Master David's breakfast." + +"Mrs. Robert can come to the breakfast table, as well as I can." + +"And whar will Master David eat his mouthful? You hae said peremptor, he +shallna eat at your board." + +"He can eat with you--he can eat anywhere--or nowhere, for aught I +care." + +"Na, na! He will be Campbell o' the Campbell Iron Works yet, and he is +beyond eating wi' serving-men and lasses. I will just tak' the tray up +this morning, for my arms are aching wi' the weight o' it." + +"You will just take the tray to the kitchen." + +"That is the last order you will gie Flora McNab, ma'am." + +"Your threat is an old one, McNab; I'm not fearing it." + +"Nor me expecting you to be feared. When you dinna fear God Almighty, +why would you be fearing the like o' me? Out o' the way then, and let me +by you wi' the tray." + +Very uncomfortable was the family breakfast that morning. Something was +the matter with Jepson. Every dish was cold, and is there any food +nastier than cold porridge and cold boiled fish? Robert grumbled over +his plates, and Mrs. Campbell was equally cross, and still more +explanatory of her temper. About the middle of the meal, McNab entered +the room in her church bonnet, and her double Paisley shawl, pinned with +its large Cairngorm brooch. Robert looked at her in amazement, and with +a laugh that was not a pleasant one, asked: + +"Where are you going, McNab, so early in the morning?" + +"Back to the Hielands, sir. Pay me my wage, and I'll be awa' in time for +the Perth train." + +"You are not going to leave us?" + +"That is just what I am going to do." + +"Nonsense!" + +"I'm not going to stop in this house, and see your wife and bonnie bairn +starved for food. The poor bit laddie is crying the now, for his bread +and milk, and your mother--wi' the hard heart o' her--willna let me gie +either the bairn, or his mother a mouthfu'; so I am going back to the +Hielands whar folks hae hearts--and Jepson is going likewise, and the +twa lasses are going. Pay me my honest wages, Maister Campbell, for I'm +in a hurry to get out o' hearing o' the starving baby, crying for his +bowl o' milk." + +"That will do, McNab. The Perth train does not leave until eleven +o'clock. Go into the library, I want to speak to you, and take Jepson +and the two girls there. I will come in a few minutes." He was obeyed +without a word, for he spoke with that tone and manner which compelled +even the leather-dressed, leather-masked men who fed his furnaces to +cower before him. + +When McNab and Jepson had left the room he turned to his mother and +asked: "Am I to pay them, and send them away?" + +"That would be unspeakable foolishness. I can not possibly do without +McNab and Jepson. The two other hizzies can go if they want to." + +"Then why do you meddle with McNab?" + +"It is not her business to wait on your wife and child." + +"Then whose business is it?" + +"No one's, at present." + +"Then see you find some one to-day whose business it will be to wait on +them. If you do not, I will take my wife and child myself to the +Victoria Hotel." + +"I am fairly worn out with the quarrelling and trouble your wife and +child make in the house. There is no pleasuring either of them. I have +sent two girls to her, and she wouldn't give house-room to one, nor the +other--decent girls, as I could find." + +"One of them was drunk when she called, and the other had never cleaned +a parlor, or made a bed in her life. It was kitchen work she wanted; and +she spoke Gaelic better than English. See that a proper girl is hired +to-day. It is an outrageous thing, to set me to sorting your servant +girls' wrongs. I shall tell McNab to serve my wife and child, until a +proper maid is found for them." + +But such disputes as this, common as they were on every household +subject, did not trouble Theodora, as they did when she had to face a +permanence of them. She knew now they would soon be over. They were +passing away with every hour. Besides this consideration, a great event +in life takes all importance out of small events, and she was so +occupied with the total change approaching her, that the trifle of Mrs. +Campbell's temper, or injustice did not seem to be much worth minding. +Her cheerfulness and good temper was an amazing thing to Mrs. Campbell, +who not understanding its reason, set it down to "Dora's aggravating +ways." + +"She thinks it annoys me," she said to Isabel, "she thinks it annoys me +to appear so indifferent to my just anger, but she has to thole it +anyway, and I'll wager, she likes it no better for all her smiling and +singing to herself." + +But Mrs. Campbell's just anger had now lost all its importance to +Theodora, for every one was practically ready for the change, though the +end of April was the date fixed unless some good or evil event +sanctioned an earlier movement. + +This event came unexpectedly, and in a different direction from any +anticipated. Robert left home one morning about the twenty-second of +April very uncomfortably. His mother had been complaining bitterly of +David's restlessness at night. She said he must be removed to the upper +floor. She was astonished that a boy of his age should want to sleep +near his mother. He must sleep beside Dora's maid for the future. She +could not have her sleep broken, at her time of life it meant serious +illness--and so on. + +After breakfast Robert spoke to his wife on the subject, and he was +amazed at the spirit she displayed. She said "David was sick last night. +I was fighting croup from midnight until dawn, and you know, Robert, how +alarmingly subject to this terrible disease he is. How could he be left +to a tired girl's care? She would not have heard that first hoarse cry +last night, and we might have found him dead this morning--strangled all +alone in the darkness. No! he shall not leave me, or if you say he must +go to the servants' floor, then I will go too." + +With this subject still in abeyance Robert left her. Then Mrs. Campbell +sent servants to remove the boy's cot to the maid's room, and Theodora +positively refused to allow its removal, sending the men away, and then +locking her doors. She was quivering with fear and feeling, when Robert +unexpectedly returned home. He said the mail had brought him bad news. +He had been informed that Sykes and Company of Sheffield--who were +heavily indebted to him--had failed, and he must go to Sheffield at +once. He told Theodora to pack his valise for a two weeks' stay, while +he went into the city for a certain accountant, whom he proposed to take +with him, in order to examine the books of the delinquent firm. + +"Pack my valise for a two weeks' stay." The poor wife trembled through +all her being. It was the order for her own departure. The packing of +his valise would be the last act of the sorrowful drama of her marriage. +It was the last time she would ever do him the service. _The last time!_ +Every garment had a tragic look. She touched them tenderly. Her +unchecked tears dropped upon them. If it was not for David's sake, she +doubted whether she could carry out her intentions--but her child, her +child! They wanted even now to separate them in their home, in a few +weeks they might take him entirely away from her. His old enemy Croup +would find him alone in the dark and some dreadful night strangle him. +He would be punished for faults he did not even understand, flogged, +deprived of food and companionship, tormented by cruel boys older than +himself--oh, she could not bear to continue her reflections, for the +boy's sake she must leave his father. And then a kind of anger at the +father followed in the steps of her grief. If she could have trusted his +father to defend him in all cases, it need not have been; but she could +see, even in the dispute concerning his sleeping-place, his father was +inclined to stand by the cruel wish of the grandmother. + +Oh, but the packing of that valise was a hard task! And when it was +strapped and locked, it seemed almost to reproach her. She was sitting +gazing at it, when Robert entered the room and caught the look of love +and despair which filled her eyes, and saddened her face and her +attitude. In spite of himself it flattered him. He was astonished at her +devotion, but it comforted him. His mother had been angry when she +heard of Sykes and Company's failure. She had reminded him of her advice +to have nothing to do with them--had told him "Sykes looked shifty and +rascally, and her words had come true, and perhaps he would believe her +next time she gave him good advice." But Theodora had been full of +sympathy, and had given him only kind and encouraging words. + +His manner was so unusually gentle, that she ventured to say: "I am +afraid to be left here without you, Robert. They will take David from +me, or I shall have a fight to keep him. It hurts me so, dear, what am I +to do? Will you tell mother to let David's sleeping-place alone until +you come back?" + +He was silent for a moment, then he answered: "Take David and go and see +your own father and mother. You could stay ten or twelve days. When I am +ready to come home, I will telegraph you to meet me at Crewe Station, +then we can make the journey back together." + +"Oh, Robert, Robert! Oh, you dear Robert! What a joy that will be to +David and myself! How shall I thank you?" + +"Never mind the thanks. Now I must go. I have not a minute to spare." + +"Davie is in the next room." + +He went to the child's cot, and stood a moment looking at him. He was +not yet recovered from the night's awful struggle, but he opened his +eyes and stretched upward his arms, and Robert could not resist the +silent appeal. Thank God, O thank God, he stooped and kissed him, and +felt the little arms around his neck in a way that amazed him! Then he +looked at Theodora and lifted his valise. The carriage was at the door, +his mother was hurrying him, he said: "Good-bye, Dora. I will telegraph +you about Crewe." + +"Thank you, Robert. Please say so before mother, or she may try to +prevent my going." Her eyes were fixed on him. There was a piteous +entreaty in them--would he not kiss and embrace her also? Oh, if he knew +it was the last time! If he only knew it! The thought was full of +passionate longing. He could not but feel it. He was just going to take +her hand, when Mrs. Campbell opened the door and said fretfully: + +"You will miss your train, Robert--delaying and delaying for nothing at +all." + +"I was telling Dora to go home on Friday, and see her parents for twelve +days or more. I will meet her at Crewe, and we shall come home +together." + +"Very well. I'll be gey and thankful to have the house to ourselves for +a few days--or forever." + +Robert was hastening to the carriage and did not hear her reply, but +when it was about to move, he bent forward and looked at the door he was +leaving. Theodora stood on the steps. Her heart was in her eyes, her +hands clasped above her breast. She saw him bend forward, and leaned +towards him smiling. Never throughout all his life days did he forget +that last glimpse of the beautiful woman who that morning watched him +out of her sight. When he was quite gone she turned into the house with +that sense of completeness so essential even to the sorrowful. She had +seen the last of her husband. The bitterness of the separation was over. +She went to Davie and let him comfort her, then she dressed the boy, and +left him in the care of McNab; for she knew that she must go to Mrs. +Oliphant's without delay. The door had been set wide open for them, and +they must make the best of the opportunity; or perhaps lose their lucky +hour forever. + +Fortunately David Campbell was at Mrs. Oliphant's, having returned from +Edinburgh not ten minutes previously. He heard Theodora's tidings with a +calm pleasure. "We are ready," he said. "Your father and mother have +been in Glasgow for a week. They are boarding at a house in Monteith +Row, a pretty locality on Glasgow Green." + +"Oh, David, were you not afraid?" + +"Not at all," he answered, "the Campbells are exclusive West-Enders. +They would be as likely to go near Monteith Row as to go to Ashantee. +Your parents are known as Mr. and Mrs. Bell. You must not try to see +them until you meet on the steamer." + +"Very well. When shall we sail?" + +"This is Tuesday. The Anchor Line have a good boat sailing at noon, +Saturday. Can you be ready?" + +"Easily. About your daughters?" + +"They are ready. They will be here Friday, or perhaps Thursday. Now I +will go and secure the four best staterooms possible. I shall take them +in the name of Kennedy--and that will be our name, until we reach New +York." + +Theodora remained with Mrs. Oliphant until David returned with the +tickets for the four staterooms. She felt then, that there was no +reprieve, and that her first duty now was to be as cheerful and brave as +she ought to be. On reaching home, she found that David's cot had been +carried to the maid's room, but she made no complaint. The fact swept +away all doubts and misgivings; it was the last injustice, the last +cruelty that could be inflicted, and it was a vain one, for David could +sleep with her, until the end came. + +On the following morning, she asked Jepson to send to her room the +smallest of her trunks, and she put into it a few things belonging to +her girlhood's life--her music, her textbooks, a novel she had nearly +finished writing, and the beautiful linen she had made and embroidered +with her own hands for her marriage outfit. Two dresses were all that +remained of the gowns bought at this date. These she took with her. In +her hand she would carry a Gladstone bag with toilet necessities, and +plenty of clean white waists and collars for David and herself. Their +suits, bought with reference to this necessity, were of dark blue cloth; +David's made into his first breeches and jacket, and Theodora's in the +simplest manner possible, but as Mrs. Campbell said to Isabel: + +"Plain, of course. But look at the lines and the make o' it! Menzie's +cutting and fitting no doubt. It cost five guineas to make that dress +and the cloak with it. She's a wasteful creature." + +"Robert said she bought it herself, and----" + +"So she ought, so she ought! And the boy dressed up in broadcloth and +linen waists! A few yards of lindsey would be more fitting." + +"Mother, he is a beautiful boy." + +"Is he? I cannot see myself where his beauty comes in." + +During the next two days Theodora employed herself in folding carefully +away all her clothing, and locking it up in its proper drawers. Her +jewels she packed separately, and with a letter, put into McNab's +charge, requesting her to give them to Mr. Campbell, if she did not +return with him. When Friday morning came, she rose early, dressed +herself and David, and was ready for the train that left just about the +time the Campbell breakfast was served. In this way, she hoped to escape +the presence of Jepson, whom she feared might be told to accompany her. +On the contrary, Mrs. Campbell grumbled at Jepson for helping the +coachman with her trunk, and the only question she asked was: "What road +did she take, Jepson?" + +"The Caledonian, ma'am," was the answer. + +"Hum-m-m! I thought so." + +"Has she gone?" said Isabel. + +"Yes, and a good riddance of her." + +"Oh, mother, and none of us bid her good-bye, or wished her a pleasant +time. I intended to go to the train with her--now I have missed----" + +"Making a fool of yourself. That is all you have missed." + +"What train would Mrs. Campbell take, Jepson?" + +"The nine o'clock train, I suppose, miss." + +But Theodora did not take the nine o'clock train. She gave a porter a +shilling to care for her trunk, and watched an hour in a waiting-room. +No one suspicious appearing, she requested the porter to call a cab, and +put her trunk upon it, and then without fear or hurry, she drove to a +certain store, where David Campbell was waiting. He went with her at +once to the pier of the Anchor Line, where they left her trunk to be +placed with the rest of the Kennedy luggage in the hold. "And now, where +will you hide yourself until to-morrow morning, Theodora?" he asked +kindly. + +"Mrs. Oliphant----" + +"No. She wants you, but I told her it could not be. Her servants will be +closely questioned, no doubt." + +"I see." + +"The steamer touches at Greenock. Get a room in the Tontine Inn. Have +your food served in your room, and keep quiet until you walk down to +meet the steamer." + +"I will do so. It is the best plan." + +So they went to the railway station, and David Campbell put them into a +comfortable carriage for Greenock. "You will see your father and mother +to-morrow," he said. "They are as happy as two little children over the +journey. It is a great event for them, and they are talking of their +little grandson continually. They long to see him." + +Theodora hardly knew what was being said to her. She was in a kind of +dreamlike state--a state, however, in which no mistakes are ever made. +The Inner Woman had control, and she had quite resigned herself to its +leading. "David and I will meet the steamer in the morning. Be on the +watch for us, brother," she said. + +"I will. You will go to the Tontine?" + +"Certainly." + +"And if they should not have room for you there, then go to the----" + +"I will go to the Tontine. There is a room ready for me there." + +He looked at her kindly and understood. Those who have watched long, +solemn nights away with the Beloved One, slowly dying, know something +beyond the lines of science, or the teachings of creeds. He said +good-bye to her, without a fear of any mistake. + +At Greenock she found the prepared room in the Tontine, and she made +herself and little Davie comfortable, and then ordered their dinner to +be brought to them. She was glad of this pause in her affairs, and long +after Davie was asleep, she sat pondering the past and the future. At +first she was dazed and half-unbelieving of the great event that had +taken place in her life. In the darkness of the room, she fell into +short sleeps, and kept feeling around in the darkness of her mind to +learn what troubled her, until suddenly, in cruel starts from sleep, her +sorrow found her out. + +But this is the depth in our nature, where the divine and human are one. +Here, in our weakness and weariness, we are visited by the Upholder of +the tranquil soul, and words wonderful and secret, cheer the weary and +heavy-laden; for God has royal compassions for the broken in heart. +Theodora awoke in the morning full of hope, and in one of her most +cheerful moods. The road no longer frightened her, the ocean no longer +separated her. She had wings now for all the chasms of life, and when +she opened a little book for a word to clear the way, and the day, she +cried out joyfully, for this was her message: + + "_The Lord is with me, hastening me forward._"[2] + +[Footnote 2: 1st Esdras 1, 27.] + +At the time appointed the steamer reached Greenock, she was there to +meet it, and David Campbell was at the gangway watching for her. There +was a crowd of incomers and outgoers, and David was glad of it, for +Theodora with her child reached their stateroom without notice from any +one. There she found her father and mother, and the joy and wonder of +that meeting may well be left to the imagination. + +It had been decided, that until David found out whether any of the +passengers were sitters in Dr. Robertson's church, or people from any +circumstance likely to know Theodora, she should remain in seclusion; +but in a couple of days, David had clearly established the safety of her +appearance; and after that assurance, she was constantly on deck with +the rest of the party. All the way across the Atlantic they had a blue +sky, a blue sea, sunshine, and good company; and one morning they were +awakened by some one calling "Land! Land in sight!" and hastening on +deck they stood together watching their approach to the low-lying shores +of that New World which held for them the promise of a happy home and a +prosperous future. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +CHRISTINA AND ISABEL + + +Just about the time Theodora's party were sitting down to a happy dinner +in the Astor House, New York, Robert reached his home in Glasgow. He had +confidently expected to see his wife waiting for him at Crewe Junction, +and been disappointed and angry at her failure to do so. "Women are all +alike," he muttered to himself, "they never keep an appointment, and +they never catch a train." He wandered round the waiting-rooms looking +for her, and so missed his own train, and had to wait two hours at one +of the most depressing stations in England. For though the traffic is +immense there, the stony, prison-like order, the silent, hurrying +passengers, and the despondent-looking porters, fill the heart with a +restless passion to escape from the place. Without analyzing this +feeling, Robert was conscious of it, and it intensified the annoyance of +his detention. + +All the way to Glasgow he pondered on the singular circumstance of +Theodora's failure to obey the telegram he had sent her. She had always +been so prompt and glad to meet him, there must have been some mistake +made in the message. He tried to remember its exact words, but could +not, and as he neared his own city a certain fear assailed him. He +began to wonder if his wife or child was sick--or if any accident had +happened on their journey from Bradford to Crewe. But this solution he +quickly dismissed as incredible. Theodora would have managed under any +circumstances to send him word. She would not have kept him waiting and +wondering. It was utterly unlike her. At length the anxious journey was +over, but in hurrying from the train to his carriage, he noticed that +the coachman spoke in an easy, nonchalant way, and that there was no +sign about him of anything unusual or unhappy. When he reached Traquair +House his mother and Isabel met him at the door, and Jepson unlocked his +apartments, and began to turn on the light in the parlors. + +"We shall have dinner in twenty minutes, Robert," said Mrs. Campbell, +and Jepson added: + +"Your rooms upstairs are prepared for you, sir." + +No one had named Theodora, and he had not done so either. Why? He could +not tell "why"; for her name beat at his lips, and inquiry about her was +the great demand of his nature. He looked into her rooms, and the sense +of emptiness and desertion about them was like a blow. David's cot had +been removed, he saw that at once, and felt angry about it. And the +perfect order of things shocked something in his feelings never before +recognized. He missed sorely those pretty bits of disorder, that seemed +to him now almost a part of his wife and child--the bow of ribbon, the +little shawl or scarf over a chair-back, the small book of daily texts, +and the thin parchment copy of "_The Imitation_" on her table; David's +puzzle on the window seat, or his tiny handkerchief on the floor beside +it. + +Restless and unhappy he went down to the dining-room. His mother was in +high spirits; Isabel still and indifferent. But it was Isabel who asked: +"How much longer is Dora going to stay? The house is so lonely without +her." + +"The house has been peaceful and restful without her, and the noisy +child. I am sure it has been a great relief," corrected Mrs. Campbell. + +"I am anxious about Dora," said Robert with a touch of his most sullen +temper, "she ought to have met me at Crewe, and did not do so. It was +not like her." + +"It was very like her. She is the most unreliable of women. I dare say +we shall see her by the next train--perhaps we----" + +"Mother, you are mistaken both about Dora and the train. Dora can always +be depended on, and I waited for the next train, but she was not on it. +After dinner I must telegraph to Bradford and elsewhere." + +"Perfect nonsense! Let her alone, and she'll come home--no fear of it. +She was, however, keen enough to get away--off before we had +breakfast--and without a word to any one." + +"Mother," corrected Isabel, "that was our fault. She came to bid us +good-bye, but we neither of us spoke to her." + +"Drop the subject," said Robert in a manner too positive to be +disobeyed. + +He himself dropped every subject, and finished his meal in a silence so +eloquent, that no one had the spirit to break it. His mother looked at +him indignantly, his sister kept her eyes on her plate, and ate with a +noiseless deliberation, that was almost provoking. It was a most +wretched meal. + +"And all because that creature missed meeting him at Crewe," snorted the +angry mother as her son left the room. + +"You had better go to the library, mother, and find out what is the +matter. I dare say it is business--and not Dora at all." + +"I will go as soon as he has had a ten minutes' smoke. He is as touchy +as tinder yet, Isabel." + +But Robert did not go to the library. As he came out of the dining-room +McNab walked up to him, and he spoke more pleasantly to her than he had +yet done to any one since his return. "Good-evening, McNab," he replied +to her greeting, "I hope you are well." + +"As well as I ever expect to be in this house, sir. My dear young +mistress left these jewels in my care--fearing what happened once +before, sir--and I promised to keep them safe till you came home; the +same I've done. And she left this letter likewise for you, and I hope +there is no bad news in it, sir, for she was breaking her heart the day +she was writing it." + +"Breaking her heart? What about, McNab?" + +"They were going to take the bit bonnie bairn from her--and him every +night, as like as not, having a black life-and-death-fight wi' what they +ca' croup. You know, sir?" + +"I know, McNab. Thank you!" and instead of going to the library, he went +into his own parlor, and locked both doors leading into it. Then he sat +down with the letter in his hand. He looked at the neatness with which +it was folded, addressed, and sealed, and he had a sudden memory of the +joy and expectation with which he had once been used to receive such +letters. He had no fear of bad news. He expected only Theodora's usual +pleading for little David, and he thought it likely the removal of the +boy's cot typified a more than common dispute concerning the child. + +When he finally opened the letter, a small parcel fell out of it, which +he laid aside. Then he read without pause or faltering, the following +words: + + "MY DEAR ROBERT:--A little while ago, you told me all that I + possessed, that even my wedding ring, belonged to you. To-day I + restore you all that you have given me, and with my raiment and + ornaments, the dearest ornament of all--my wedding ring. You + have broken every pledge it promised. You have treated me, and + permitted others to treat me, with a sustained, deliberate + neglect and cruelty that is almost incredible. To-day I make + you free from all obligations to me, and my child. Do not try + to find us. You cannot. We shall disappear as completely as a + stone thrown into mid-ocean. But you know well, that I may be + fully trusted to do all my duty to David. Oh, Robert, Robert, I + cannot bear to reproach you! I love you, though I am leaving + you forever. My father and mother go with me, and God and they + are a multitude. I shall want for nothing but your love, and + that was taken from me long ago. My love, my love! Farewell + forever. + + "THEODORA." + +Then he unfolded the bit of tissue paper which the letter contained, and +out of it fell the wedding ring. He laid it in the hollow of his hand +and looked at it. And as he looked, the storm in his heart gathered and +gathered, until all its waves and billows went over him. + +"_Gone! Gone forever!_" he said in an awful whisper--a whisper that came +from a depth of his nature never plumbed before; an abyss that only +despair and death know of. He rose and walked about, he sat down, he +re-read the letter, he tried to think, and could not. He threw off his +coat and vest, his collar and neckerchief; they lay at his feet, and he +kicked them out of his way. "I am choking--dying!" he murmured. "Dora! +Dora! Dora! Where are--you?" + +The unfortunate man was torn with the most contrary feelings. He loved +the adorable woman who had cast him off; and he hated her. Remorse for +his own neglect and cruelty alternated with anger at his wife for the +pain she was giving him. And she had robbed him of his child also, _his +child_! Oh, he would have the child back, if he moved heaven and earth +to compass it. There was no order, no method in his grief, one dreadful +accusation followed another like actual blows, from a hand he could +neither stay, nor entreat, nor reason with. + +In hoarse mutterings, and fierce imprecations, he gave voice to a +passion of grief and anger so furious, that ordinary speech utterly +failed it. Frequently he struck the table or the piano frenzied blows +with his hand--or he kicked out of his path chairs, stools, or whatever +came in his raging way. Even Theodora's embroidery frame was thus +treated, and then tenderly lifted and straightened, and put in its +place. His restless feet and hands, his distracted walk, his mad +motions, his distorted face and inflamed eyes, all indicated a tumult of +suffering and despair, rendered all the more terrible by the shrill +strain of half-religious oaths, which like flashes of hell-fire made the +blackness of darkness in which he suffered all the more lurid and awful. + +At length his physical nature refused to express any longer his mad +sorrow by motion. He fell prone upon the sofa, and clasping his hands +over his heart, he sobbed as only strong men in the very exhaustion of +all other expression of feeling can sob. By this time it was late, the +house was dark and still, and only the miserable man's mother was awake +and watching. She felt that there was sorrow in the house, and when +midnight came she went softly downstairs and stood at her son's door, +listening to the soul in agony, moaning, sobbing, accusing, blaming, +entreating, defying. She feared to let him know she was there and she +feared to leave him. She was at a loss to account for a passion so +amazing and uncontrolled. Stepping softly back to her room she +reconsidered herself. In a couple of hours there was the crash of china +falling, and her temper got the better of her fear. She went hastily and +without attempt at secrecy, to her son's door. + +"Robert!" she called, but there was no answer. + +"Robert, Robert Campbell, open this door!" and she shook the handle +violently. + +He rose with an oath, flung the door wide, and stood glaring at her from +eyes red and swollen and fierce with anger. "What do you want?" he +asked. "Can you not let me alone, even at midnight?" + +"What is the matter with you? Are you ill?" + +"No." + +"Then what for are you sobbing and crying? I'm fairly ashamed for you. +Do you know it's two o'clock in the morning?" + +"I don't care what time it is. Go away." + +"I will not go. You are demented--or you are wicked beyond believing." + +"Go away!" + +"I will not. What, in God's name, is the matter?" + +"Theodora!" he shrieked, as he flung his arms upward. + +"O, it is Theodora, is it? I thought so." + +"She has left me, left me forever! She has gone, and taken my little +Davie with her." + +"Just what I expected." + +"Just what you drove her to." + +"Has that black-a-visored dandy staying at the Oliphants' gone with +her?" + +"Damnation, no! Her father and mother went with her." + +"She says so, no doubt. Do you believe her?" + +"Yes." + +"Weel, I'm glad she's off and awa'. We'll hae a bit o' peace now." + +"My heart is bleeding, bursting; I cannot listen to you." + +"Such parfect nonsense! You ought to be thanksgiving. Who broke that +vase to smithereens?" + +"I did." + +"It cost twenty guineas." + +"I don't care a tinker's curse, if it cost a hundred guineas." He walked +to the mantlepiece and flung down on the marble hearth a valuable piece +of Worcester. + +"My God, Robert! Have you lost your senses?" + +"I have lost my wife and child." + +"Good riddance of baith o' them." + +"How dare you?" + +"Dinna say 'dare' to me." + +"Go away! Go instanter!" + +"You will go first. I'll not leave you alane." + +"If you don't go, I will call McNab and Jepson, and they will help you +to your own room. Do you hear me?" + +"Robert Campbell, go to your decent bed and sleep, and behave yourself." + +"My God, woman!" + +"I am your mother." + +"God pity me! I can't throw you down, but----" then he lifted a white +marble clock, and let it crash among the broken china. "Out of here!" he +screamed. His usually deep, strong voice had been rising with every word +he spoke, and his last order was given in a mad _alto_ which terrified +the woman browbeating him. It was not Robert's voice; its shrill shriek +was the cry of extremity or insanity. She fled upstairs to McNab's room. + +"Waken! waken! McNab," she cried. "Your master has lost his senses. Run +for Dr. Fleming. Make him come back wi' you." + +"What hae ye been doing to the poor man?" she asked sleepily as she put +on her shoes. + +"Nothing, nothing at all. Just advising him. It is that English +cutty--she----" + +"Meaning Mrs. Robert Campbell?" + +"Call her what you like. It is her, it is her! She has taken the bairn +and gone." + +"Gone?" + +"Left her husband forever. Be in a hurry, woman. Don't you hear the man +raving like a wild beast?" + +He was not raving when McNab looked at him in passing. He was lying on +the sofa perfectly still, with his hands clasped above his head. So the +doctor found him a quarter-of-an-hour later. "You have had a great +shock, Campbell," he said. + +"A shot in the backbone, doctor. My wife has left me, and taken my son +with her." + +"I know! But were you not expecting her to do so?" + +"No, no! Why should I?" + +"How much longer did you think your wife could bear--what she had to +bear? Come, come, you must look at this trial like a sensible man! I +suppose you want to find her?" + +"It is all I shall live for." + +"Then you must sleep. I will go with you to your room, and give you a +sedative. You must sleep, and get yourself together. Then you will have +to make your face iron and brass, for all you will have to meet--advice +and pity, blame and sympathy, but you will carry your cup of sorrow +without spilling it o'er everybody you meet--or I don't know you. What +made you lose your grip to-night?" + +"Necessity, doctor. I had to, or----" + +"I know." + +"One towering rage was better than daily and hourly disputing. The +subject is buried now, between my family and myself. It was a +necessity." + +"Ay, ay, and when Necessity calls, none shall dare 'bring to _her_ feet +excuse or prayer.' Your wife's flight was a necessity also. Keep that in +your mind. You are sleepy, I see; don't look at the newspapers till the +wonder is over." + +The newspapers easily got hold of the story, and each related the +circumstance in its own way. Some plainly said domestic misery had +driven the ill-used lady to flight; others spoke of her great beauty and +wonderful voice, and made suspicious allusions to the temptations always +ready to assail beauty and genius. None of them omitted the world-weary +taunt of the mother-in-law, and some very broad aspersions were made on +Mrs. Campbell's well-known impossible temper, and her hatred of all +matrimonial intrusions into her family. The story of her eldest son's +unsatisfactory marriage was recalled, his banishment and exile and +supposed death. Christina's flight from her rich, titled lover to the +poor man she preferred added a romantic touch; and the final tragedy of +the disappearance of Robert Campbell's wife and son seemed to the +majority proof positive that the trouble-making element was in the +Campbell family, and rested in the hard, proud, scornful disposition of +the mother, and mother-in-law. There was not a single paper that did not +take a special delight in blaming Mrs. Traquair Campbell, but all, +without exception, praised extravagantly the beauty, the sweet nature, +and the genius of her wronged and terrorized daughter-in-law. + +Robert Campbell took no notice of anything, that either the newspapers +or his mother said. One day Isabel showed him a remark concerning "the +unhappy life of that unfortunate gentleman, the late amiable Traquair +Campbell, Esq." "You ought to stop such shameful allusions, Robert," +she said, "they make mother furious." + +He looked at her with eyes sad and suffering, and answered: "Neither you +nor I, Isabel, can gainsay those words. They describe only too truly our +father's position. He was amiable, and he was unhappy." + +"But, Robert, the insinuation is, that mother was to blame for our +father's unhappiness." + +"She was. Such accusations are best unanswered. If we do not talk life +into them, they will die in a few days." + +To those who did not know Robert Campbell, he seemed at this time +indifferent and unfeeling. In reality he was consumed by the two +passions that had taken possession of him--the finding of his wife and +son, and the making of money to keep up the search for them. He spent +his days at the works, his evenings were devoted to interviewing his +detectives, writing them instructions, or reading their reports. +Shabby-looking men, in various disguises, haunted the hall and library +of Traquair House, and every single one of them gave Mrs. Campbell a +fresh and separate attack of anger. They were naturally against her, +they believed everything wrong said of her, they talked slyly to the +servants, and would scarcely answer her questions; they trespassed on +her rights, and disobeyed her orders; and if she made a complaint of +their behavior to her son, he looked at her indignantly and walked +silently away. Speech, which had been her great weapon, and her great +enjoyment, lost its power against the smouldering anger in her son's +heart, and the speechless insolence of his "spying men." + +Very soon after his sorrow had found him out he locked every drawer and +closet in the rooms that had been Theodora's. It was a necessary action, +but he had a bitter heartache in its performance. The carefully folded +garments, with their faint scent of lavender, held so many memories of +the woman he longed to see. The knots of pale ribbons, the neckwear of +soft lace! Oh, how could such things hurt him so cruelly? In one drawer +of her desk he found the stationery she had begged her own money to buy. +She had not even taken the postage stamps. That circumstance set him +thinking. She was leaving England, or she would have taken the +stamps--perhaps not--they might have been left for the very purpose of +inducing this belief. Who could tell? + +Meantime nothing in the life of Traquair House changed or stopped, +because Robert Campbell's life had been snapped into two parts. Mrs. +Campbell soon recovered her pride and self-confidence. She told all her +callers she "had received measureless sympathy, and as for her enemies, +and what they said, she just washed her hands of them--poor, beggarly +scribblers, and such like." + +Isabel's behavior was a nearer and more constant annoyance. She spent +the most of her time in her own room with maps and guidebooks and +writing, and the pleasure she derived from these sources was a pleasure +inconceivable to her mother. "You are past reckoning with, Isabel," she +said fretfully one day, "what on earth are you busy about?" + +"I am planning routes of travel, mother, putting down every place to +stop at, what hotel to go to, what is worth seeing, and so on. I have +four routes laid out already. I am hoping some day, when I have made all +clear, you will go with me." + +"Me! Me go with you! Not while I have one of my five senses left me." + +"I shall surely go some day. I might have been travelling ere now, but I +disliked to leave you alone, after this trouble about Dora." + +"There is no trouble about Dora, none at all. The running away o' the +creature is a great satisfaction to me. I hate both her and her child." + +"Robert is breaking his heart about them." + +"And neglecting his business, and spending more money than he is making, +looking for them. I might break my heart, too, but thanks be! I have +more sense. Did I tell you the Crawford girls are coming to stay a week +or two? I thought they would be a bit company to you. I suppose they can +have the room next yours." + +"Christina's room! Oh, mother, I wish you would put them somewhere else. +You have a spare room." + +"It is o'er near my own room. And they are apt to come home at night +full o' chat and giggle, and get me wakened up and maybe put by all +sleep for that night. What is wrong with the room next yours?" + +"I don't like any one using Christina's room--and they will keep me +awake." + +"Nobody takes the least thought for my comfort." + +"Why did you ask the Crawfords? You know Robert hates them." + +"Robert is forgetting how to behave decently. He will at least have to +be civil to the Crawfords, and that is a thing he has ceased to be +either to you or me." + +"Robert and I understand each other. He gives me a look, and I give him +one. We do not require to speak." + +"I wonder how I ever came to breed such unfeeling, unsocial children. If +I get 'yes' or 'no' from your brother now, it is the whole of his +conversation; and as for yourself, Isabel, you are at that wearisome +reading or writing the livelong day. I'll need the Crawfords, or some +one, to talk to me, or I'll forget how to speak. Now where will I sleep +them?" + +"I suppose in poor Christina's room." + +"Poor Christina! Yes, indeed! I have no manner o' doubt it is 'poor +Christina' by this time." + +"Mother! mother! do not spae sorrow to your own child. I can't bear it. +I think she is very happy indeed. If she was not, she would have sent me +word. It is poor Isabel, and it is happy Christina." + +"Your way be it." + +The next day the Crawfords came, and were installed in Christina's room. +Mrs. Campbell was in one of her gayest moods, and she said to Isabel: "I +am not going to live in a Trappist monastery, because Robert is too +sulky to open his mouth to me. I'll be glad to hear the girls clacking +and chattering, and whiles laughing a bit. God knows, we need not make +life any gloomier than it is." + +For two or three days, the Crawfords had the run of the house. Robert +went away, "on another wild goose chase" his mother said, just before +they arrived; and his mother's words were evidently true, for he came +home with every sign of disappointment about him. He looked so unhappy, +that Isabel, meeting him in the hall, said: "I am sorry, brother, very +sorry." + +"I know you are," he answered. "It was a false hope--nothing in it." + +"I would stop looking." + +"You are right. I will give it up." + +He went into the dining-room with Isabel, said good-evening to his +mother, and bowed civilly to her guests. The dinner proceeded in a +polite, noiseless manner, until the end of the second course. Then +Robert lifted his eyes, and they fell upon Jean Crawford's hand. The +next moment he had risen and was at her side. + +"Give me the ring upon your right hand," he said in a voice that held as +much passion as a voice could hold and be intelligible. + +"Why, Cousin Robert!" + +"I want that ring!" + +"Aunt Margaret said----" + +"Give me the ring. It is not yours. How dare you wear it?" + +"I was bringing it back! Oh, Aunt Margaret!" + +"Robert, I am ashamed of you!" + +"Mother, I want Theodora's ring--the ring stolen from my wife years ago. +I must have it--I must, I must!" + +"Don't cry, Jean. Give him his ring. I'll give you a far handsomer one." + +Then the woman threw it down on the table, and Robert lifted it and left +the room. + +Isabel sat until the tearful, protesting meal was over, and then she did +the most remarkable thing--she went to her brother. He was sitting +looking at the ring, recalling its history. He remembered going into +Kendal one Saturday night, just after its receipt, and memory showed him +again Theodora's delight and excitement, her wonder over its beauty, and +her pride in her pupils' affection. He could see her lovely face, her +shining eyes, he could feel her soft kiss, and the caress of her hand in +his. Oh, what a miracle of love and beauty she was to him that night! He +told Isabel all about it, and then he spoke of its theft, and of his +frequent promises and failures to recover it for her. + +"But, brother," said Isabel, "you have now quite unexpectedly got it +back. It is a good omen. Some day, when you are not looking for such a +thing, you will get its owner back, you will put it on her finger. I +feel sure of it." + +"I was a brute, Isabel." + +"You were a coward. You were afraid of mother." + +"No man ever had so many opportunities for happiness as Theodora offered +me. I scorned them all. Why was I so blind, so unjust, so cruel? I am +miserable, and deserve to be miserable. We can go to hell before we die, +Isabel." + +"Yes, we can, but we send ourselves there. 'If I make my bed in hell,' +said the great seer and singer. It is always _I_ that makes that bed, +never God, never any other human being." And it was Robert Campbell, he +himself, and no other, who had made his bed in that forlorn circle of +hell, where men who have lost their Great Opportunity, weep and wail +over their forfeited happiness. Poor Isabel, she remembered, and longed +to remind her brother, that even there God was with him, waiting to be +gracious, ready to help! But she was too cowardly, she did not like to +give religious advice; she was only a woman--he would wonder at her. So +she went away, and did not deliver the gracious message, and felt poor +and mean because of her fear and her faithlessness. + +This conversation, however, made a decided change in Robert Campbell's +life. It had always been believed by the family, that Isabel, unknown to +herself, had a certain occult, prophesying power; frequently she had +proved that with her insight was foresight. So, though Robert said +nothing to her when she told him the getting back of the ring was a good +omen, he believed her and derived a singular peace and confidence from +the prediction. At that very hour, he virtually put a stop to all +inquiries, and to all search; he resolved to leave to those behind him +the bringing back of his wife, and their reconciliation. + +Carrying out this resolve compelled him to take account of the money he +had spent in the quest for Theodora and his son, and the total gave him +a shock. It had been an absolutely fruitless waste of money, and he had +a fiery impetuous determination to restore to his estate the full +amount. To this object he devoted himself, and if a man is willing to +lose his heart and soul in money-making, he is sure to succeed. + +So the weeks and the months passed, and he turned himself, body and +soul, into gold and tried to forget. The loss of his wife and child +became a something that had happened long ago--an event sorrowful, and +far off. For there was nothing to keep their memory alive. No one +mentioned their names, and the very rooms they had inhabited, had lost +all remembrance of them. They were simply empty rooms now, for every +particle of the lovely and loving lives that had once informed them, had +been withdrawn. + +Nearly two years had passed since Christina married, nearly as long +since Theodora and David disappeared, and the big, silent Traquair House +was a desolate place. Mrs. Campbell had no one but her servants to +dispute with, for though Isabel's seclusion was constantly more marked, +Robert would not listen to a word against his sister. She had been sorry +for him, and forespoken good for him; he stood staunchly by all she did. + +"Do you know that she is going away this spring, into all sorts of wild +and savage countries, and among pagans and papists, and worse--if there +is worse; with nothing but a woman nearly as old as myself to lean on. I +wonder at your allowing such nonsense." + +"Isabel knows what she is doing. She is going with Lady Mary Grafton. +They will have their maids, and a first-class courier. I think she is +doing right." + +"And I shall be left here, all alone?" + +"Do you count me a nonentity?" + +"You are very near it, as far as I am concerned." + +"I am alone, too. Will you remember that? You know whose fault it is." +Then he rose and left her, and Mrs. Campbell was conscious of a secret +wish that the good old quarrelsome days would come back, even though it +were Theodora and David who brought them. + +A few days after this conversation Robert had business in the city, and +after it was finished, he walked leisurely down Buchanan Street. It was +a fine spring morning, and there was a glint of sunshine tempering the +fresh west breeze. Passing McLaren's, he saw a lady get out of a cab, +and go into the shop. He followed her, and gently laid his hand on her +shoulder, saying: + +"Christina, sister!" + +"Oh, Robert, Robert!" and she laughed, and cried, and clasped his hands. + +"Come with me to my club," he said, "and we will have lunch and a good +talk. You must have a deal to tell me." + +"I have, I have! My cab is at the door. Will it do for you? You used to +hate cabs." She laughed again and her laugh went to his heart, so he +petted her hand, and said she was looking white and thin, and what was +the matter? + +"I had a little daughter only six weeks ago, the sweetest darling you +ever saw, Robert. And I have a beautiful wee laddie, called +Robert--called after you--he is nearly a year old." + +"Then I must go with you and see my namesake." + +"Do you really mean that?" + +"I intend to give you this afternoon." + +"I am so glad--so happy." + +Then they were at the Club House, and Robert took her to a pleasant +parlor and ordered a royal lunch, and a bottle of wine. + +"We must drink the little chap's health," he said. "And now tell me, +Christina, are you happy?" + +"Yes, I am happy. I have some little anxieties about Jamie, but love +makes all easy--and Jamie loves me and the children, and does his best +for us. A man cannot do more than that, can he?" + +"Have you ever regretted your treatment of Sir Thomas Wynton?" + +"Never once! Wynton treated me handsomely, but you see, _I loved Jamie_. +You understand, Robert?" + +"Yes." + +"I heard about Theodora, of course. It was hard on you, but I do not +blame Theodora. Since I was a mother, I have wondered she bore David's +treatment as long as she did. I would not." + +When lunch was over, they drove to Christina's home, and Robert laughed +at its location. "Why, you are barely a mile from Traquair House," he +said. "How was it we never found you out?" + +"Perhaps you did not care about finding me out." + +"Perhaps. Yet I know Isabel never went out without looking for you, and +she has put many advertisements in the papers." + +"Well, I was neither lost nor stolen, Robert, so I never read +advertisements." She laughed in her old mocking way. "But I longed for +Isabel, and have hard work to keep away from her." + +There was just time for Robert to see his namesake, and give him a gold +token, and admire the baby in its mother's arms, and the mother with the +baby in her arms, when there was the sound of a latch-key in the door, +and then a gay whistle. "Here comes Jamie," cried Christina, all her +face aglow with love and expectation. Jamie was a personality you felt +as soon as he entered the house. Robert looked anxiously for his +appearance; but he was not prepared for the young man who entered. He +was so handsome. Not Robert Burns himself had a more winning face, or +more charming manners. He came into the room laughing, and when he saw +Robert, went straight to him with outstretched hand. "Glad to see you, +Campbell," he said heartily, and Robert felt he was glad. "You will take +dinner with us?" he asked, and Robert said he would. Then he brought +cigars, and began to discuss with Robert a subject which was at that +time very interesting to the city. Robert found him clever and amusing, +and he had a way of illustrating all his points with stories so apt, and +so amusing, you felt sure he invented them as needed. + +They had a modest, cheerful dinner, after which Jamie played the fiddle +and sang as Robert had never dreamed it was possible to fiddle and sing; +and he fell completely under the man's charm. For he made fiddle strings +of Robert's heart strings, with his wild Gathering Calls, his National +Songs, and Strathspeys. It was impossible not to love the man, and +whatever liking and admiration Robert Campbell had to give, he gave +unresistingly that night to James Rathey. He went away reluctantly, +though he had stayed some time after dinner, and when he clasped the +beautiful hand of the violinist he held it a moment, and said: "You have +made me happy for a few hours. I thank you! I shall not forget." + +All the way home he was revolving a plan in his mind, which he was +resolved to bring to perfection. With this object in view, he looked +into the dining-room when he reached home, hoping to find Isabel there. +But Mrs. Campbell was sitting alone with a newspaper in her hand. She +looked bored and forsaken, and he was sorry for her. "Where is Isabel?" +he asked. + +"Where she always is, except at eating-times--in her room." + +"I want to see her." + +"Will not your mother do?" + +"Not just yet. I may want you in a short time." + +"And then I may not come. You are going to ask Isabel, whether it is +prudent to tell me something, or not." + +"Will you let Isabel know, or shall I send McNab?" + +"I will tell her myself." + +Then Robert went to his own parlor, and in a few minutes Isabel came to +him. He took her hand, and seated her at his side. "Isabel," he said, "I +have found Christina. I have had lunch and dinner with her. I have met +James Rathey." + +"Oh, Robert!" + +"He is the most delightful of men. They are as happy as they can be." + +Then Isabel began to cry softly. "Oh, Robert, Robert! Such good news! +Tell me all about them!" she exclaimed. And Robert told her all that +Christina had said, and all that Jamie had said. He described +Christina's and Rathey's appearance, he told her about the babies, he +even made a few remarks about the floor and the furniture. + +"I must go and see her the first thing in the morning, Robert." + +"How soon will you start on your travels, Isabel?" + +"In ten days, if Lady Mary is better." + +"Is she sick?" + +"I heard this morning she had an attack of measles--very peculiar in a +woman of her age." + +"I don't know, I'm sure. What I want is, that Christina should +come into my rooms. I am going to give her all the furniture in +them--everything-everything except some clothing. While you are away, +she will be company for mother, who seems pitifully lonely." + +"That is mother's fault, Robert. These empty rooms ought to be----" + +"I know. There is no use speaking of it. All that hope is over. Do you +think you can persuade Christina to come home?" + +"She would have some submissions to make to mother--will she make them?" + +"I think so. Go and ask her." + +"I will see her in the morning." + +In the morning there was a joyful meeting between the sisters, and +Christina was delighted with Robert's plan. She had often longed for the +large rooms, the wide stairways and corridors of Traquair House. She +hated small rooms, and common stairs, and cabs, and remembered longingly +the days when the Campbell carriage was at her beck and call. She liked +plenty of servants, and her own maid and nurse would be added to the +staff in Traquair House. She would be relieved of all housekeeping +cares, and of the oversight of the table, a duty she particularly +disliked. Besides these considerations, she could again take her proper +place in society. Robert would be certain to do something for Jamie, and +then she would have her income for dress and social demands. + +"It will be delightful, Isabel," she said. "Just what I wish, and Jamie +will win round mother directly--he has that way with all women." + +"Then come home about five this afternoon, and bring the babies with +you, especially Margaret." + +"Isabel, you mean?" + +"No, no! You must call her Margaret. As Margaret she will open mother's +heart to you." + +About five that afternoon, Mrs. Campbell came into the big, empty +dining-room. She was dressed for dinner, but there were no signs of the +meal. She looked cross and forlorn, and began to grumble to herself, as +she impatiently stirred the fire into a blaze. "It is too bad of +Isabel," she muttered; "she cares for nothing but her own way. I am left +to look after everything--house, callers, what not--and there is a ring +at the door now! I hope Jepson heard it." + +The next moment the room door was thrown open, and Christina, in a +flurry of beautiful silk and fur, fell on her knees by her mother's +side. She clasped her mother's hands in her own, and said softly: +"Forgive Christina, mother. I have brought my little Margaret for your +blessing. Oh, yes, you will bless her. And Christina is really sorry, +and longs so much for her mother and her home--dear mother, forgive me?" + +At the beginning of her entreaty, Mrs. Campbell had tried to take her +hands from between her daughter's, but at the close they lay passive +until she raised one, stroked Christina's face, and bid her rise. Then +Christina took the little child, and laid it in its grandmother's arms, +saying: + +"Little Margaret asks you to forgive and love us, mother,"--and little +Margaret won the day. + +"May I stay dinner, mother, and talk to you?" + +"Go up to your own room, and take off your hat and wrapping. You may +leave the bairns with me. Yon is a bonnie wee lad, what is his name?" + +"Robert Traquair." + +"A wise like name! Bring him here, lassie--and what is your name?" + +"Janet, ma'am." + +"Weel, Janet, you may now take the boy-bairn to the kitchen, and show +him to Mistress McNab, and tell her she will hae company to provide for. +I'll keep the bit lassie mysel', till her mother is ready for her." + +At six o'clock, as arranged, Robert came home and joined his mother and +sisters, and they were all talking happily together, when Jamie Rathey +entered. Robert met him with a hearty welcome, and Jepson coming in at +that moment, to superintend the setting of the table, was told by Robert +to lay service for two extra. And as Christina predicted, when the +evening was over Jamie had fairly conquered the usually impossible Mrs. +Campbell. He had waited on his mother-in-law as if he was her lover, he +had told pleasant stories, and sang merry songs, and above all assured +her, she was "the only mother he knew, who could bring up daughters able +to make the state of marriage an earthly Paradise"; and with a charming +smile he wished "that she had fifty daughters, so that Glasgow might +boast of fifty perfect wives, and happy husbands." + +Robert watched him, and listened to him, and wondered that a man of his +tact and social genius, did not get on in the world; and after the +Ratheys and their children had departed he said: "Christina has not done +as badly as we believed, mother. What do you think of James?" + +"The man is well enough--as a man," she answered with a sudden cooling +of heart temperature, "but what about his capacities? Is he a good +provider? Can he get hold of the wherewithal for a family's +necessities?" + +"He is on the Roll of Attorneys now, but it is hard for a young man to +get a law business--it takes time. He is sure to make his mark, but I do +not suppose he makes his office rent yet." + +"I thought so." + +"He is clever." + +"Very. And if he is as clever with his fiddle as his tongue, I would be +astonished if he made office rent." + +"Why?" + +"Because God has given to some men wisdom and understanding, and to +other men He has given the art o' playing on the fiddle. But if a man is +wanting law, he does not want a song, and he is naturally suspicious of +the lawyer who mixes the two." + +"I shall get him installed as attorney on some of the civic boards, and +that will give him an opportunity to show himself as a lawyer. And, +mother, I have given Christina the use of my rooms, and the furniture is +hers now. I have given her it just as it stands--everything, except some +clothing. When Isabel goes away, I thought you would be very lonely, and +Christina and the babies will make things more cheerful for you." + +"I might have been asked, if it would be agreeable?" + +"I only met Christina yesterday. I went home with her, and I want her to +have a better home--her old home, and you to look after her." + +"Well, a mother's duty never ends, and I was never one to shirk duty. +The rooms are all right--but as for the cooking and the kitchen----" + +"_Tut, tut_, mother! You will look after the table as you have always +done." + +"There will be four more adults to provide for, not to speak o' the +bairns' feeding and washing." + +"James is able to pay whatever you think right. I will insure that to +you. And, mother, it will be a joy to see you busy about the house +again, ordering the meals, and keeping the servant girls up to mark." + +"I always was a busy woman, Robert, and I will be thankful to have my +hands full again. I am sure the thought o' Christina's playing and +singing, and her goings out and in, and the visitors she will have, and +the news coming with them, and the children, special the bit lassie wi' +her soft black een, and her wonderfu' resemblance to mysel'--all these +things, sure enough, will make the old house a deal more pleasant. But +where will you keep yourself?" + +"At my club. I have a room there anyway, and I shall always take my +breakfast in it. Sometimes, I will come here for dinner, but Jamie will +be the man of the house, and a better master than I have ever been--he +will have more time to help you, mother." + +These conditions, carefully considered and elaborated, were carried out +with all the haste possible. But haste is not in a Scotchwoman's +faculty. She can do many things well, but she must carefully prepare for +their doing, and then move with care and caution. + +A few days after this arrangement, Mrs. Campbell and Christina went out +together to do some shopping found necessary for it. Isabel remained at +home to answer a letter from the Grafton family. This letter gave her +great anxiety; it said: "Lady Mary's illness had become more serious +than was at first anticipated, and there was almost a certainty that she +would not be able to travel at the time fixed; consequently, they would +leave to Miss Campbell the option of changing the date, or of +cancelling the engagement, as seemed best for her own pleasure and +interest." + +Poor Isabel was much troubled at this disappointment. She feared all was +going wrong with her plans, and the thought of the coming invasion with +the noise of the children, and the joyous hilarity of Christina and her +husband, and her mother's renewed importance, was not, in her present +mood of disappointment and uncertainty, a pleasant anticipation. She sat +silent and motionless, her eyes fixed on the neatly folded routes she +had prepared. And her heart sank low, and a few tears gathered slowly +and remained unshed. "All my desires are doomed," she thought +sorrowfully. "Nothing I plan comes to pass. How unfortunate I am!" + +Then there was a tap at her door, and a maid told her there was a +visitor. She rose despondingly, took the card, threw it on the table, +and went slowly to the drawing-room. Before she had quite opened the +door, she heard hurrying steps coming to meet her, and the next moment +Sir Thomas Wynton was holding her hands, and trying to tell her how +happy he was to see her again. + +She had an instantaneous sense of hope and relief, and they were soon +heart and soul in the conversation they both enjoyed. Very soon she went +for the routes she had prepared, and showed them to the baronet, who was +amazed and delighted: + +"I never saw anything so beautifully and carefully done," he exclaimed, +"and when do you start on Route No. 1.? I see it takes in Russia, +Sweden, and Norway, and home by the Netherlands and Orkneys. Why, I +never thought of that! How good, how excellent an idea." + +"I intended leaving Glasgow in nine days, but Lady Mary Grafton, whose +party I was to join, is ill with measles." + +"Good gracious! Measles! I never heard of such a thing, what is the +woman up to? She is not a baby or a schoolgirl, is she?" + +"She is forty-four years old." + +"Oh! And measles? How absurd! What will you do?" + +"I was trying to decide, when you came. Can you help me? If you can, I +shall be grateful. If I can find no one to go with me, I shall go +alone." + +"Nonsense, impossible! May I call early to-morrow morning?" + +"Ten o'clock if you wish." + +Then he thanked her for the sensible, interesting letters she had +written him. They were "a kind of little newspaper," he said, "and I +counted those days happy and fortunate on which I received one. I have +brought you some laces. I noticed that you always wore pretty lace, and +so whenever I was at a place where lace was made, I got a little for +you." + +"Oh, Sir Thomas!" + +"And to-morrow morning, I hope I will be able to tell you something +about a companion for your journey. Do you know Mrs. Foster?" + +"No. I have heard of her only." + +He seemed on the point of going, but did not go until Mrs. Campbell +came home. Then he stayed to lunch, and sat chatting with the two ladies +until three o'clock. Even then he seemed reluctant to go away. + +"Why should he come here at ten o'clock in the morning?" asked Mrs. +Campbell, when Sir Thomas had finally gone away. + +"Lady Mary is too ill to travel. Sir Thomas thinks he can get me a +proper companion. If not, mother, I shall go alone. I will not let +anything disappoint me again." + +"You will be talked of from Dan to Beersheba." + +"I shall be doing nothing wrong, and I shall be happy. Let them talk." + +In the morning Sir Thomas was in the drawing-room at ten o'clock, and +Isabel, in a pretty lavender lawn gown, went with a smile to meet him. +He looked at her with delight, and said: "I have found you a +companion--one that will take the greatest care of you. It is myself. I +will trust you with no one else." + +"But, Sir Thomas," and she attempted to draw her hand out of his. + +"No, no," he said, clasping it still tighter. "Sit here by my side, and +listen to what I say. I love you dearly, wisely, with all my heart. I +will make you Lady Wynton to-morrow, if you desire it, and you and +I--you and I--will take all those excellently planned journeys together. +We will travel slowly and comfortably, luxuriously when we can; we will +see everything worth seeing. We will take a long, long honeymoon trip, +all over the world. Say 'yes,' Isabel. May I call you Isabel?" + +"Yes." + +"My Isabel." + +"I am your sincere friend." + +"My wife! I want you for my wife." + +"A wedding means a great deal of trouble. It would keep me back." + +"Not an hour. We will meet in Dr. Robertson's parlor, each with a friend +or two. My carriage will be at his door, and as soon as the ceremony is +over, we will drive to the railway station, and take a train for London, +be in London for dinner, and ready next day to start Tour No. 1, first +landing-place St. Petersburg; eh, dear? Say yes, say yes, Isabel. _Do!_" + +And how could Isabel say anything but "yes"? It was the dream of her +life coming true. + +"This is Wednesday," he continued joyfully, "what do you say to next +Monday? Can you be ready for Monday?" + +"I can be ready by Monday, Sir Thomas." + +"We will drop the 'Sir,' my dear, forever. Now, I will go and arrange +with Dr. Robertson for the ceremony at nine o'clock, Monday morning, and +in the meantime, see your brother about the necessary business matters, +and put all right at Wynton village for at least a year's stay. For +after London, we will follow the route you laid out--nothing could be +better." + +And as this was one of those destined marriages, that may be delayed +but cannot be prevented, every particular relating to it went as +desired. Isabel in a pretty travelling suit, with her mother and +brother, was at Dr. Robertson's at nine o'clock on the set Monday +morning, and found Sir Thomas Wynton and his brother-in-law and sister, +Lord and Lady Morpeth, waiting for them. It was a momentous interval for +two of the party, but soon passed; for in twenty minutes, Isabel +received the congratulations due to her as Lady Wynton, and then amid +smiles and good wishes she began with her husband their long wedding +trip, of all over the world. + +"It is the last of my Isabel," said Mrs. Campbell between smiles and +tears. + +"No," answered Robert, "it is the beginning of Isabel. When she comes +back we shall hardly know her. It is a real marriage; they will improve +each other," and he turned away with a sigh. + +Mrs. Campbell had really no occasion for tears. She was not inclined to +weep, even when weeping would have been in order, and Isabel had not +lately been notable, either as a help or a comfort, so that her mother +felt it no trial to exchange her presence, for the pleasure of talking +of her dear daughter, Lady Wynton, her journeyings and her experiences. +There was also the returning home of Christina, the rearranging of +Robert's rooms for her and her family, their moving into them and +settlement, and these things engaged her warmest interest. She felt +indeed that as regarded Robert's rooms falling to Christina's lot, she +owed Providence a handsome acknowledgment. They had been prepared at an +extravagant cost for an Englishwoman and a stranger, but had come, as it +were, naturally, to her own daughter. But then she said: "Providence had +always looked after the Campbells, and it was not likely that in this +flagrant case Providence would forget its duty." + +She was busy from morning to night until she had the new family under +the same roof with her, and Robert also appeared to take a great +interest in the change. He was very generous to his sister, and gave her +freely all the beautiful furniture and ornaments he had bought for +Theodora, even the piano would know her touch no more. All the books, +music, and pretty ornaments and embroideries she had accumulated during +her miserable six years of married life, she left behind her; and all +were given to Christina. Christina had no reluctance in appropriating +them. She began her new tenure in Traquair House by taking everything +she could get, likely to add to her comfort or pleasure. + +Robert was a great deal about the house while the change was in +progress, afterward his visits decreased, until they settled into the +Sunday dinner with his family. No one complained of his absence. +Christina and Rathey introduced a new life--a life of constant visiting, +gaiety, and entertaining; and Mrs. Campbell accepted it without dissent. +Jamie Rathey indeed ruled her more absolutely than he ruled his wife. +And she petted him, as she had never petted her own sons--ordered +luxuries for his eating, gave him presents, paid his bills, and excused +all his extravagances. + +"Between Jamie and little Margaret, I am not my own woman at all," she +admitted, and as time went on, it was difficult to say which of these +two treated her with the most tyrannical affection. + +Two erroneous conclusions are likely to be formed concerning Robert +Campbell on this unlooked for transformation of life in Traquair +House--one, that he had suddenly developed a most unusual generosity, +and the other, that he had forgotten his wife, and become resigned to +her loss. Neither of these conclusions would be correct. Few, indeed, of +our actions ring true through all their depths, and Robert's generosity +to his sister arose from a desire to make his own life more bearable. +Those lonely, lifeless, deserted rooms, over which he had spent so much +love and gold filled him with a terror he hated to face. If Christina +would bring into them life and song, and the voices of children, perhaps +their haunting misery might die out of his heart. He could not prevent +Isabel leaving home, but he did dread the house with no one but his +mother and himself in it. So when Christina stepped into both dilemmas, +with a comfortable solution, he felt grateful to her, and it was +pleasant to give her things, and pleasant to help Jamie Rathey, and to +see the dark, silent house alive with mirth and company, and the prattle +of little children. + +But there was another Robert that none of these things touched, who in +fact would neither see them, nor listen to them. This Robert sat hours +motionless and speechless, dreaming of the woman he still loved--longing +for her with heart-breaking accusations and remorse. _Oh, to hear from +her! Oh, to see her_, if but for a moment! Would the hour for their +reconciliation never, never come? This was the faithful, bitter cry of +his best nature, as raking in the ashes of memory, he made of his lost +wife a thousand lovely and sorrowful pictures. And this Robert Campbell, +no one but Robert's angels, and Robert's God knew. + +To the world in general he seemed to be harder than ever, indifferent to +all interests but money-making, stripped even of his old time gloss and +politeness, yielding only when necessary to get his own way. His +kindness to Christina had been in the main kindness to himself, and the +ready help given to Jamie Rathey was the result of several selfish +reasons, united with that singular liking which men occasionally feel +for some other man gifted as they never can be--an affection doubtless +dating from some life anterior to this life. With these exceptions, +Robert Campbell was the old Robert Campbell, a little older, and a +little rougher, and the national emblem of the repellent _Thistle_, with +its churlish command, "_Hands off!_" represented him very fairly. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +ROBERT CAMPBELL GOES WOOING + + +It will not now be difficult for any one to construct in their +imagination the life in Traquair House for the next two years. But at +the end of that time, a great change was approaching, and the bringer of +it was Isabel, Lady Wynton. She was sitting at her husband's side one +afternoon, in the office or foyer of a large hotel in San Francisco. Sir +Thomas was smoking and watching with her the constant kaleidoscope of +humanity passing in and out. They were not talking, but there was a +thorough, though silent sympathy between them. Sometimes Sir Thomas +looked at her with an admiring glance, which she answered with a smile, +or a move of her chair closer to him; but her attitude was that of a +woman silently interested and satisfied. It was the old Isabel in a +repose, informed, vigilant, and conscious of a perfect communion of +feeling. + +Suddenly her whole appearance changed. She became eager and watchful, +and her personality appeared to be on the tiptoe of expectation. With +her eyes she followed every movement of a beautiful young woman attended +by a scholarly-looking man, nearing sixty years of age. The couple were +quickly joined by a much younger man, they walked with him to the main +entrance, stood talking a few minutes, and then bid him farewell. The +woman and older man then turned back into the hotel, and Lady Wynton had +a full leisurely look at them. She did not recognize the man at all, but +she was perfectly satisfied as to the identity of the woman, and she +stepped hastily forward, crying softly: + +"Theodora, Theodora! I know it is you. I have found you at last. Oh, how +glad I am, how glad I am!" + +"Isabel!" + +"And here is my husband, Dora." + +"I need no introduction, Mrs. Campbell," said Sir Thomas, with smiling +courtesy. "I remember you perfectly, though you have been growing +younger, instead of older." + +Theodora quickly introduced her father, leaving him with Sir Thomas +while she and Lady Wynton went to the Wyntons' parlor for conversation. +"I must write Robert at once," said Lady Wynton. "It will be such a +wonderful thing to him, for I am sure he has given up all hope of ever +seeing you again, Dora. Two years ago he left Traquair House; he could +not endure his empty lonely rooms any longer." + +"Poor, dark, sad rooms! I try to forget them also." + +"They are not dark and empty now, Christina and her husband and babies +are living in them, and they make them lively enough, I have no doubt." + +A shadow passed over Theodora's face, and she did not speak for a few +moments. Then she asked: "What was done with the furniture and the +things I used to believe were mine?" + +"Christina wrote me that Robert had given everything in the rooms to +her." + +"How kind of him!" There was a little scorn in her voice, and she asked, +"What about my piano, and my music?" + +"Oh, Theodora, you must not feel hurt. Poor Robert! He was nearly +broken-hearted. He never expected to see you. He had spent a fortune on +detectives, who looked all over Europe for you. One night I sat with +him, and I really thought he was insane. He acted like it." + +"But he gave my piano and music away." + +"I suppose he could not bear to see them--and you had left them, you +know." + +"Isabel, he gave me that piano as a birthday gift, one week before we +were married; but then, of course, he took it back after the ceremony. +He told me once my wedding ring was his property, and that he could sell +the very hair off my head if he chose to do so." + +"He must have been in a vile temper to say such things. Legally, I +suppose he was right, but no good man ever does such things." + +"But if a woman has the ill-fortune to marry a bad man? and many women +innocently do this, then----" + +"Then what?" + +"If she has any self-respect, she emancipates herself from such a +condition of slavery." + +"Are you still angry at Robert?" + +"I never was angry at him. He was only the rock on which my love bark +struck, and went down." + +"How is David?" + +"Come home with me, and see him. We shall be home for supper, and it is +about time we were leaving." + +"Both Sir Thomas and I will come with you gladly." + +For nearly ten miles their road lay through a delightful country, and +just at the darkening ended in a plateau among some foothills. A number +of white houses were scattered over it, and towards one of these +Theodora drove her carriage. They entered an inclosure studded with +forest trees, and kept in fine order; and as they neared the dwelling, +came into a lovely garden full of all kinds of flowers and fruits. The +house was square and large, surrounded by deep piazzas, and covered to +the chimney-tops with flowering vines, chiefly with jasmine and passion +flowers. On either side of the wide hall there were cool, large parlors, +and from its centre rose the white stairway leading to the upper +rooms--and everywhere there was an indefinable sense of peace and +comfort. + +"What a beautiful home! What a heavenly place!" cried Isabel, and +Theodora answered: + +"My father bought it when we first came. We have lived here ever since. +It is beautiful. The sun shines on it, the winds blow through it, in +every room there is happiness and peace. You were asking about David," +she said in a tone of exultation, "here he comes!" and they went to the +window and watched his approach. He was riding a fine, spirited horse, +and riding like Jehu the son of Nimshi, who doubtless rode--as well as +drove--furiously. + +"How wonderfully he rides, Dora." + +"David can do anything with a horse, or a rifle, and he is so strong, +and tall, you would think him much older than he is. Come, we will go +down and have supper, and let unpleasant memories die." + +For two weeks the Wyntons stayed with Mr. Newton--two weeks of perfect +delight to them. They visited various lovely towns along the coast, they +hunted, and fished, and talked, the women of household things, and +family affairs--the two men of their college days, and sports, and +poetry; Sir Thomas quoting the Greek poets, and Mr. Newton the English, +old and new. In the evenings, Theodora played and sang, and David +recited stirring lines from "The Lady of the Lake" and other works. +Night and day followed each other so happily and so quickly, that the +week promised became two weeks, without notice or protest. + +No letter during this time had been sent to Robert. Theodora insisted on +this point. "I do not like letters, Isabel," she said. "They say too +much, or too little. When you see Robert, tell him what your eyes have +seen, and your ears heard--just the plain truth--and leave him to act on +it, as he wishes." + +"Then remember, Dora, that we are not intending to hurry home. We shall +remain a few days at Salt Lake City, Denver, St. Louis, Chicago, and of +course visit Niagara. It may be a month before we reach New York. You +must give us five or six weeks before we reach Liverpool, and so do not +lay the blame of our loitering to Robert's indifference. Be patient." + +"I have been four years without a word. You see that I am neither +impatient nor unhappy." + +"Tell me, Dora, who was that dark, handsome man you seemed so much at +home with in the hotel? I am curious about him. He appeared to be so +familiar with your father and yourself." + +"He is a neighbor. His house is about two miles from ours. The two +eldest girls you saw reading and singing with me are his daughters. I am +educating them with the three younger girls, who are the only children +of a neighbor in another direction." + +"He seemed very fond of you--I mean the man at the hotel." + +"He is a good friend. He spends much time with my father. When he bid us +good-bye, he was going to his mining property. That is the reason you +have not seen him. Had he been at home, he would have made your visit +here much pleasanter." + +"Then I think we should never have got away. What a book full I shall +have to tell Robert? I wish I was home. It will be good to see the light +come into his sad face, when I say, 'Robert, I have found Theodora!'" + +"Say nothing to influence him, one way or the other. His own heart must +urge him to seek me, or he will never find me. It is a long journey to +take, for a disappointment." + +"He will doubtless write to you at once." + +"I should take no notice of a letter." + +"Why?" + +"I have learned that a woman who lets slip the slightest respect which +is due her, invites, and perhaps deserves the contempt she gets." + +"Sir Thomas is very respectful to me, Dora." + +"And very kind and loving. And you must know that you are much handsomer +than you were before your marriage. You converse better, your manner is +dignified yet gracious, your dress is rich, and in fine taste, and the +touch of gray in your abundant black hair is exceedingly becoming to +you. You are a fortunate woman." + +"But, Dora, remember how long I waited for good fortune. I am in real +living only two years old; all the years before my marriage were blank +and dreary. I am forty years of age according to my birth date, and I +have lived two, out of the forty." + +"Thank God for the two years!" + +"I do. We both do. Sir Thomas is very religious." + +At length the Wyntons departed, and when Theodora had made her last +adieu, and watched their carriage out of sight, she turned to her +mother, who stood pale and depressed at her side. + +"I am glad the visit is over. It has been something of a trial to you, +mother--and to me also." + +"The last week I was a little weary. But father and David enjoyed it, so +it does not matter." + +"Yes, it does matter. The men in a house should not be made happy at the +cost of the women's exhaustion." + +"How soon do you expect your husband?" + +"Not for eight weeks--it may be longer, and it may be never." + +"Do you love him at all now?" + +"I love the Robert who wooed and married me, as much as ever I did; the +Robert of the last five or six years, I do not wish to see again. I have +been away from him four years, and I cannot hope that his manner of life +has improved him." + +"How has he lived?" + +"From what Isabel told me, I should say his family had full dominion +over him for two years; the result being the tearing to pieces of the +home he made for me, and the handing over to his sister everything that +was mine. The last two years he has lived a solitary life at his club, +no doubt self-indulgent, self-centred, and self-sufficient." + +"Theodora, no one but God knows anything about Robert. He would show +himself to no one--I mean his real self. Do not judge him on the partial +evidence of his sister. She would look no further than his words and +actions." + +"I wish I had heard nothing about him. I thought he was out of my life +forever." + +"Do not let the matter disturb you, until you are compelled to. _Grace +for the need_ is sure. Nowhere have I seen, _grace before the need_ +promised." + +"You are right, mother, we will go on with our lives just as if this +visit had never happened. I will neither hope nor doubt. I will do my +day's work, and leave all with God." + +So the Newton House went back to its calm routine, and Theodora taught +and wrote, and helped her mother with her housekeeping, and her father +with copying his manuscripts, and her boy with his lessons, and the days +passed into weeks, and the weeks into months, and the promise of +Robert's coming became as a dream when one awakeneth. + +Yet all was proceeding surely, if leisurely, to the appointed end. In +about eight weeks, the Wyntons arrived in London, and following their +usual habit delayed and delayed there, for a whole week before starting +for Scotland. But once at Wynton Castle, Isabel felt freed from her +promise of silence, and she wrote to Robert a few days after her return +home, the following note: + + "DEAR ROBERT:--We reached home four days ago, and found + everything in perfect order. I hope mother and Christina and + you yourself are well. I am in fine health, never was better. + When we were in California I came unexpectedly upon Theodora. + We stayed two weeks with her, very pleasant weeks, and if you + will come to Wynton as soon as convenient, we shall be glad to + see you and tell you all about your wife and child. You need + have no anxiety about them. They could not be happier. Give my + love and duty to mother, and tell Christina I have a few pretty + things for her. + + "Your loving sister, + + "ISABEL." + +Robert found this letter beside his dinner plate, and after he had taken +his soup he deliberately opened it. He knew it was Isabel's writing, and +the post-marks showed him she was at home again. He knew also that it +would contain an invitation to Wynton, and before he was sure of it, he +made a vow to himself that he would not go. + +"Sir Thomas will prose about the persons and places he has seen, and +Isabel will smile and admire him, and I shall have to be congratulatory +and say a hundred things I do not want to say. I do not care a farthing +for Sir Thomas and his partnership now, and I will not have his +patronage." Thus he talked to himself, as he opened the letter, and gave +his order for boiled mutton and caper sauce. + +When the mutton came he could not taste it. He looked dazed and shocked, +and the waiter asked: "Are you ill, sir?" + +"Yes," was the answer. "Give me a glass of wine." + +The wine did not help him, and he lifted the letter and went to his +room. There he threw himself upon the bed and lay motionless for an +hour. He was not thinking, he could not think; he was gathering his +forces physical and mental together, to enable him to overcome the shock +of Isabel's news, and decide on his future course. + +For the information which Isabel had given him in a very prosaic way had +shaken the foundations of his life, though he could not for awhile tell +whether he regarded it as welcome, or unwelcome. But as he began to +recognize its import, and its consequences, his feelings were certainly +not those of pleasure, nor even of satisfaction. He had rid himself of +all the encumbrances Theodora had left behind her. He had given his home +away and reduced the obligations to his kindred to a minimum, for a +visit once a week satisfied his mother and Christina; and if he missed a +week, no one complained or asked for the reason. At his club he was well +served, all his likes and dislikes were studied and pandered to. There +was no quarrelling at the club, no injured wife, no sick child, no +troublesome servants. He was leading a life that suited him, why should +he change it for Theodora? + +If Theodora had been in poverty and suffering, he felt sure he would +have had no hesitation, he would have hurried to her side, but a +Theodora happy, handsome, and prosperous, was a different problem. Why +had she not sent him a letter by Isabel? She must have known, that +Isabel would certainly reveal her residence, why then did she not do it +herself? "She ought to have written to me," he muttered, "it was her +duty, and until she does, I will not take any notice of Isabel's +information." + +With this determination he fell into an uneasy sleep, and lo, when he +awoke, he was in quite a different mood! Theodora, in her most +bewitching and pathetic moods, was stirring his memory, and he said +softly, yet with an eager passion: "I must go where Dora is! I must go +to her! I cannot go too quickly! I will see Isabel to-day, and get all +necessary information from her." + +He found Isabel enthusiastically ready to hasten him. She described the +Newton home--its beauty, comfort, peace, and happiness. She went into +italics about David--he was a young prince among boys of his age. He +rode wondrously, he could do anything with a rifle that a rifle was made +for, he was a good English scholar for his age, and was learning Latin +and German. She said his grandfather was his tutor, and that the two +were hardly ever apart. + +At this point Robert had a qualm of jealousy. The boy was _his_ boy, and +he ought to be with him, and not with his grandfather. He was defrauded +on every side. He said passionately, he would go for the boy, and bring +him home at any rate; and Isabel told him plainly it could not be done. +"And as for Theodora," she continued, "she looks younger and lovelier +than when you married her. You should see her in white lawn with flowers +on her breast, or in her wonderful hair; or still better, on horseback, +with David riding at her side. Oh, Robert! You never knew the lovely +Theodora of to-day." + +"If she had any lover," he said slowly, "if she had any lover, you +would have discovered that fact, Isabel?" + +"Lover! That is nonsense. Her time and interests are taken up with her +teaching, writing, and her care of her child. She is educating five +girls, daughters of wealthy men living near, and she has published one +novel, and is writing another; and she helps Mr. Newton with his +manuscripts, and Mrs. Newton with her house. She is as busy as she is +happy. We stayed two weeks with her, and I saw no one like a lover. I do +remember at the hotel where I first saw her, there was a very handsome +dark man, who seemed to be on the most friendly, even familiar terms +with both Theodora and Mr. Newton. I asked her once who the man was, and +she said he was a neighbor, and that she was educating his two +daughters. Then I asked if he was likely to call and she told me he had +gone to his mine, and that was the reason we had not seen him every day. +She said she was sorry it had so happened, because he would have made +our visit much pleasanter." + +"No doubt," he answered. "Much pleasanter, of course. Thank you, Isabel. +I owe you more than I can ever pay. I shall go to San Francisco, and see +with my own eyes how things are." + +"You will see nothing wrong, Robert. Be sure of that. Dora is as good as +she is beautiful. I did not love her when I thought her an intruder into +my home, but in her own home, she is adorable. Every one loves her." + +"I object to every one loving her. She is mine. I am going to bring her +to her own home--where she ought to be." + +He would not remain to dinner. He was in haste to reach a solitude in +which he could commune with his own heart. For Isabel's words had roused +a fiery jealousy of his wife, and he had suddenly remembered his +mother's first question when she heard of Theodora's flight: "Has she +gone with that black-a-visored dandy staying at the Oliphants'?" He had +then scornfully denied the supposition--had felt as if it was hardly +worth denying. But at this hour, it assumed an importance that tortured +him. His mother had called him black-a-visored, and Isabel had called +him dark. The two were the same man, and this conviction came with that +infallible assurance, that turns a suspicion into a truth, beyond +inquiry or doubt. + +He got back to Glasgow--he hardly knew how. He was a little astonished +to find himself there. But something, held in abeyance while he was out +of the city, returned to him the moment he felt his feet on the wet +pavements, and breathed the foggy atmosphere. He knew himself again as +Robert Campbell, and with an accented display of his personality went +into the discreet, non-observant refuge of his club. He was hungry, and +he ate; in a whirl of intense feeling, and he drank to steady himself. +Then he went to see his mother. He wanted a few words with her, about +"the black-a-visored dandy." + +He found Traquair House topsy-turvy. Christina was giving a dance and +there was no privacy anywhere, but in his mother's room. She was dressed +for the occasion, and wearing her pearl and diamond ornaments, and he +had a moment's surprise and pleasure in her appearance. + +"Christina is giving a bit dance," she said apologetically, "and the +house is at sixes and sevens. It is the way o' young things. They must +turn everything upside down. You look badly, Robert. What's wrong wi' +you?" + +"I have found Theodora." + +"No wonder you look miserable. Where is she?" + +"In California." + +"Just the place for the like o' her. It is not past my memory, Robert, +when the scum o' the whole earth was running there. She did right to go +where she belongs." + +"_Hush_, mother! The Wyntons have been staying with her for two +weeks--and they were well entertained. She has a beautiful home, Isabel +says." + +"Have you seen Isabel?" + +"For an hour or two. She sent her love to you." + +"She can keep it. If it isn't worth bringing, it isn't worth having." + +"Mother, you once spoke to me of a dark man staying at the Oliphants', +and asked if Theodora had gone away with him. What made you ask that +question?" + +"Weel, Robert, she was always flitting quiet-like between this house and +the Oliphants'; and twice he walked with her to the top o' the street, +and they were a gey long time in holding hands, and saying good-bye." + +"Why did you not tell me then?" + +"I wanted to let the cutty tak' her run, and to see how far she would +go. I had my een on her." + +"I feel sure he is living near her, in California." + +"Very close, indeed, no doubt o' that--pitying and comforting her. Why +don't you do your own pitying?" she asked scornfully. + +"I am going to California to-morrow." + +"Don't! You'll get yoursel' shot, or tarred and feathered, or maybe +lynched. Those West Americans are an unbidable lot; they are a law to +themselves, and a very bad law, generally speaking. Bide at hame, and +save your life. What for will you go seeking sorrow?" + +"I want my son. Isabel says he is a very prince among boys of his age." + +"No doubt o' it. There's enough Campbell in him to set him head and +shoulders over ordinary lads. But you send men now, that you know where +to send them, and let them get the lad away. They'll either coax or +carry him." + +"I want to see Theodora." + +"If you have a thimbleful o' sense, let her alone. Old love is a +dangerous thing to touch. She'll gie you the heartache o' the world +again, and you'll be down at her feet for comfort." + +"Did I ever down at her feet for anything?" + +"If you are tired o' freedom, and easy days, tak' yoursel' to +California. And what about the works, while you are seeking dool and +sorrow?" + +"I shall only be gone about six weeks." + +"Fiddlesticks! You are going into captivity--settle your business before +you go, and see that you don't forget your mother and sisters' bed and +board is in it." + +"I shall be back in six weeks. Good-bye, mother. Give my love to +Christina and Jamie, I will not trouble them now." + +"They are full o' their ain to-do at the present. I'll gie them your +message. Good-bye, and see you are home, ere I send after you." + +He went hastily downstairs, and could hardly believe he was walking +through Traquair House. Pretty girls in dancing dresses were constantly +passing him, young men were standing about in groups laughing and +talking, and there was the sound of fiddles tuning up in the distance. +It was all so unnatural that it affected him like the phantasmal +background of a dream. And he was suffering as he had never before +suffered in all his life, for jealousy, that brutal, overwhelming +passion, had seized him, and he was in a fire constantly growing +fiercer. Every thought he now had of Theodora fed it, and he hastened to +his club and locked himself in his room. It was clear to him, that he +must reach San Francisco by the swiftest means possible. In his +condition, he felt delay might mean severe illness, if not insanity. + +On the third morning after this determination, when he awoke he was out +of sight of land. The wind was high, and the sea rough, but he was not +sick, and the tumult of the elements suited his mood very well. He made +no friends, and his trouble had such a strong personality, that many +divined its reason. + +"He looks as if he was after a runaway wife," said one man, and his +companion answered: "I do not envy the fellow who has run away with her, +he will get no mercy from yonder husband, and as for the wife!" + +"God help her!" + +"It is Campbell of the Campbell Iron Works near Glasgow," said a third. +"I never heard that he had a wife. I shouldn't think he would care for +one. He lives only for those black, blasted furnaces. He is happy enough +among their slag and cinders, and smoke and flame. The country round +them is like Gehenna, but it suits him better than green pastures and +still waters. He isn't such a big man physically, but when he is +marching round among his workers, ordering this, and abusing that, you +would think he was ten feet high, and the men are sure of it. But +Campbell isn't a bad fellow take him by and long; he goes to Kirk +regular, and when he feels like giving, gives with both hands." + +"We might ask him to join us in a game of whist." + +"Nay, we had better let him alone. I think some American has maybe +stolen one o' his patents, or got ahead o' him in some way or other; and +he is going to have it out with him face to face--that would be like +Robert Campbell. He is in a fighting mood anyway, and he wouldn't help +our pleasure; far from it." + +This opinion seemed the general one, so on the voyage he made no +acquaintances, and when the steamer reached New York, he went directly +from her to the railway station, and bought a ticket for San Francisco. +His train was nearly ready, and in half-an-hour he was speeding +westwards. For a few days he noticed nothing, but after he had passed +St. Louis, he began to be astonished, and even slightly terrified at the +immense space separating him from all he knew and loved. Often he had an +urgent feeling that he must at once turn back, and he might have done +so, if a still stronger feeling had not urged him forward. A journey +from London to Edinburgh had always appeared to him a long one, and he +had even felt Sheffield very far from Scotland; but the vastness of the +present journey stupefied him. Before he reached San Francisco, he was +subject to attacks of sentiment about his native city and country. He +felt that he might never see them again. + +But the end came at last, and San Francisco itself was the climax to all +his wanderings. What could induce men to travel to the extremity of +creation, and then build there a city so large and so splendid? How +could they live and trade and make money so far from London and Paris +and the centre of the civilized world? He went to the hotel at which his +sister had stayed, and was obliged to admit that neither Glasgow, +London, nor Paris had anything to rival its luxury and splendor. He +began to be interested. He thought it might be worth while to dress a +little for dinner. + +For to a man as insular in mind as Robert Campbell, the scene was +amazing. He could have gone every day for fifty years to Glasgow +Exchange, and never witnessed anything like its cosmopolitan variety. +There did not seem to be two persons alike in nationality, caste, or +occupation. Even the Americans present were as diverse as the states +from which they came. For the first time in his life it struck Robert +Campbell, that Scotchmen might not possibly be the dominant race in all +the world's great business thoroughfares. + +He forgot his absorbing trouble for awhile, or at least it blended +itself with elements that diluted and even changed its character. Thus, +he began to fancy Theodora in her loveliest, proudest mood walking +through this motley crowd. How would she regard him in it? How would the +crowd regard her? He was busy with this question, when his attention was +attracted by a man who reminded him of something known and familiar. "He +at least has the look of a Scotchman," he mused. "I must have seen him +before somewhere." If he had kept any memory of his own face and figure, +perhaps he might have traced the resemblance home. But often as we look +in our mirrors, who does not straightway forget what manner of man, or +woman, they are? + +For the stranger who had been able to interest Robert Campbell was his +brother David. He was talking earnestly to two men whom Robert could not +classify. They wore no coats, or vests, and the wide, strong leather +belts with which they were girdled had somehow a formidable look; for +though quite innocent of offensive weapons, they appeared to promise or +threaten them. David was evidently their superior, perhaps their +employer, but there was a kind of equality unconsciously exhibited which +Robert wondered at, and did not approve. He felt that under no +circumstances would he have been seen talking familiarly to men so +manifestly of the lower classes. + +But when they went away, David shook hands with them and then stood +still a moment as if undecided about his next movement; and Robert +watched him so fixedly, that he probably compelled his brother's +attention. For he suddenly lifted his eyes, and they met Robert's eyes, +and his face brightened, and he walked rapidly forward, till he placed +his hands on Robert's shoulders, and with a glad smile cried: + +"Robert, Robert Campbell! Don't you know me, Robert? Don't you know me?" + +And Robert gazing into his eager face answered slowly: "Are you +David--my brother? Are you David Campbell, my brother David?" + +"Sit down, dear lad! I am David Campbell. Sure as death, I am your +brother David. Get yourself together, and we will go and have dinner. +You look as if you were going to faint--why, Robert!" + +"I forgot dinner. I have had nothing to-day but a cup of coffee. Oh, +David, David! what a Providence you are! How did you happen in here?" + +"I came to watch for you. I have been coming every day for three weeks. +Can you walk a few steps now? You are requiring food. What made you +forget to eat?" + +"Trouble, great trouble--crazy love, and crazy jealousy. My wife and my +child have left me!" + +"I know." + +"How do you know?" + +"They are my dearest neighbors." + +"Then you saw Isabel?" + +"I did not. I was at the mine, but Theodora told me all about her visit, +and as I knew Isabel would tell you where your wife and child were +living, I have been watching for your arrival. Come now, and let us have +something to eat. Afterwards we will talk." + +"What a splendid dining-room!" + +"Isn't it? And you will get a splendid meal!" He called a negro and +said: "Tobin, bring us the best dinner you can serve." + +The order was promptly and amply obeyed, and before dinner was half over +Robert's irritability and faintness had vanished, and he was the usual +assertive, domineering Robert Campbell. But not until they had finished +eating, and were sitting in the shady court with their cigars would +David allow their personal conversation to be renewed. He began it by +saying: + +"You will wish to see Theodora to-morrow, I suppose?" + +"I wish to see her at once--to-night." + +"That will not do! You want a good sleep, you want a bath and a barber, +and some decent clothes on you." + +"I am not going courting, David." + +"Then you need not go at all. You will require to do the best courting +you ever did, or ever can do, if you hope to get a hearing from +Theodora." + +"She is my wife, David, and she----" + +"Will be far harder to win, than ever Miss Newton was." + +"Win! She was won long ago." + +"Won--and lost. You will not find this second winning an easy one." + +"How do you know so much about her?" + +"I knew all about her miserable life, before I knew her; but I finally +met her at my friend Oliphant's." + +"And it was the Oliphants who told you all her complainings. Mother +never trusted them. It seems she was right--as usual." + +"The Oliphants told me nothing. I heard all her life with you from my +foster-mother, McNab." + +"McNab, your foster-mother, David?" + +"McNab nursed, and mothered me. She was the only mother I ever had." + +"McNab! McNab! Now I begin to understand--and the Oliphants are your +friends? And you stayed with them when in Glasgow?" + +"Always. John Oliphant and I have been acquainted since we were lads +together." + +Then Robert burst into uncanny laughter and answered: "You are the man, +David, I have been wanting to kill all the way across the Atlantic and +across the continent." David looked at his brother full in the eyes, as +men look at a wild animal, and asked slowly: "Why did you want to kill +me, Robert? What harm had I done you?" + +"When I told mother Theodora had gone away from me, her first words +were: 'Has that black-a-visored dandy, staying at the Oliphants', gone +with her?' She added, that she had 'seen you with Theodora and that at +parting you held her hand--and seemed very loth to leave her.'" + +"Mother was altogether wrong. I never was on any street in Glasgow with +your wife. I was never seen in public with her anywhere. I respected +your honor, as well as my own, and never by word, deed, or even thought +wronged it." + +"Why should mother have told such a--lie?" + +"Because it is her nature to make all the trouble she can." + +"But you advised Theodora to leave me?" + +"Never. She acted entirely on her father's and mother's advice. But when +I saw they had resolved to come to the United States, and knew nothing +of the country, I told Mr. Newton about California, and advised him to +make a home here. And as I and my daughters were travelling the same +road, I did do all I could, to make the long journey as easy as +possible. Could any man seeing a party like the inexperienced minister, +and his invalid wife, daughter, and her child, do less than help them +all he could? You owe me some thanks, Robert, when you get sane enough +to pay your debt." + +"I do thank you, David, and what other debt do I owe you? Theodora had +no money." + +"Her father gave me money to buy two of the best staterooms for them. He +paid all their expenses of every kind, and he bought the house in which +they are now living, and paid for it. Since then he has preached, and +lectured, and written, and made a very good living. He has had no +necessity to be indebted to any one. Yet if he had needed money, I would +have gladly loaned him all he required." + +"Oh, David, David! Forgive me. I am in a fever. I do not know what I am +saying. Ever since my wife left me, and wronged me----" + +"Stop, Robert. Your wife never wronged you. She allowed you to wrong her +six years too long. If she had not left you, she would have been dead +long ago. To-morrow, you will see what love, and peace, and this +splendid climate have done for her." + +"And what has her desertion done for me?" + +"If it has not taught you the priceless worth of the loving woman you +were torturing daily, it has done nothing. Wait till you see your son, +and then try and imagine the wretched child he would have been, if his +mother had not braved everything for his sake and taken him beyond the +power of the unnatural woman who hated him." + +"She hated him because he was called David." + +"And she hated me because she wronged me. If she had nursed me, she +would have loved me. She sent me to Lugar Hill School because she hated +me, and she would have sent your David there for the same reason. +Theodora did well, did right to take any means to save the child from +such a terrible life. If she had not done so, she would have been as +cruel as his grandmother--and father." + +"My head burns, and my heart aches! I can say no more now, David." + +"Poor lad! My heart aches for you. But there is a happy future for +Robert Campbell yet. I am sure of it. Put all thought and feeling away +until the morning, and sleep, and sleep, as long as you can." + +"I want to see Theodora early in the day." + +"You cannot. As I told you before, the bath and the barber and the +tailor are necessary. Have you forgotten the spotless neatness and +delicacy of Theodora's toilet? You are going a-wooing, and you must be +more careful in dressing for Theodora Campbell than you were in dressing +for Theodora Newton." + +"I cannot think any longer. I will consider what you say in the +morning." + +"You will be a new man, and begin a new life to-morrow." + +"I want the old life." + +"You do not. And you will never get it. The old life has gone forever." + +In the morning he did not even want it. He he had slept profoundly, and +when he had made all preparations for his visit to Theodora, he was +quite pleased with his renovated appearance. David spoke of sending a +message to her, but Robert thought a surprise visit would be best for +himself. He would not give his wife an opportunity to sit down and +recall all his past offences, and arrange the mood in which she would +meet him, and the words she would say. + +"We do not require to hurry," said David. "She is dismissing her classes +for the summer holidays to-day, and will not be at liberty until near +three o'clock. So we will eat lunch here, and then drive leisurely over +to Newton Place." + +Robert shrugged his shoulders impatiently. He thought his brother was +much too leisurely, but when they were rolling pleasantly along through +the beautiful land, he was not disposed to complain. It was indeed a New +World to him. Half-a-mile from the Newton dwelling, they heard voices +and laughter, and the clatter of horses' feet going at full speed, and +immediately there came into view three young riders--two girls, and a +tall, gallant-looking lad as their escort. + +"_Look, Robert, look!_" cried David, much excited. "Here come my two +girls, and your own little lad. They are racing, and will not stop. Be +ready to give them a '_bravo!_' in passing." He had hardly finished +speaking, ere the gay, laughing party were behind them. They were all in +white linen, and the girls' long bright hair was flowing freely, and had +pink ribbons in it; and the boy had a black ribbon at his knees, and on +his shoes, and an eagle's feather in his cap. And their bright faces +were full of light and mirth, and their voices a living tongue of +gladness, as they passed crying joyously, "Uncle David! Papa! Papa!" + +"My God!" ejaculated Robert. "Is it possible? Can that be my little +David?" + +"It is your David." Then both men were silent, until Robert heard his +brother say, "This is Newton Place," and he looked in astonishment at +the house they were approaching. "It is a lovely spot," he said, "and +there is a great deal of land round it." + +"Yes, Newton made a good investment. The land has increased in value +steadily ever since he bought it. You had better get out at this +turning. I will take the buggy to the stable, and you can go to the door +and ring for admittance." Robert did not like to object, and he did as +directed. The door was standing wide open, but he rang the bell. A +Japanese boy answered the summons, and opening a parlor he told Robert +to take a seat. "Your card, sir," he asked, holding out the little tray +to receive it. + +Robert grew red and angry, but he took a card from his pocket-book, and +threw it upon the tray, and when the boy had left the room he laughed +bitterly, and muttered: "It is a fine thing for Robert Campbell to send +his visiting card to his wife." He would not sit down, but stood glaring +around the cool, dusky room, so comforting after the heat and sunshine. +"I suppose I shall be kept waiting while my wife considers whether to +see me or not; but she may consider too long. I will not be snubbed by +any woman living." + +As he made this resolution, Theodora entered. She came forward with both +hands extended, and her face was radiant, and her voice full of happy +tones. He would have taken her in his arms, but she kept his hands in +hers and led him to a seat. Then Mr. Newton came in with David, and he +threw open the windows, and let in the sunshine, and Theodora was +revealed in all her splendid beauty. In a long white dress, with a white +rose in her hair, she lacked nothing that rich materials or vivid colors +could have given her. Her beautiful hair, her sparkling eyes, her +exquisite complexion, the potent sense of health and vitality which was +her atmosphere, commanded instant delight and admiration; and Robert +could only gaze and wonder. How had this brilliant woman been evolved +from the pale, frail, perishing Theodora he had last seen? + +In a short time the three men went out together to look at the fruit +trees and the wonderful flowers, and Theodora assisted her mother to +prepare such a meal as she knew Robert enjoyed; and when they sat down +to it, she placed Robert at her right hand. They were still at the table +when David came galloping home, and in a few minutes he entered the +room. Every eye was turned on the boy, but he saw at first no one but +his uncle. + +"Cousin Agnes won!" he cried, "won by two lengths, uncle. Isn't she +great?" Then he noticed his father, and for a few moments seemed +puzzled. There was not a word, not a movement as the boy gazed. Theodora +held her breath in suspense. But it was only for a few moments; joyfully +he exclaimed: "I know! I know!" and the next instant his arms were round +his father's neck, and he was crying, "It is father! Father, father! Let +me sit beside him, mother." And Theodora made room for the boy's chair +between them. + +The evening was a revelation to the discarded husband. Theodora sang +wonderfully some American songs that Robert had never before +heard--music with a charm entirely fresh and new; and David recited an +English and Latin lesson, and then at his uncle's request, spoke in good +broad Scotch Robert Burns' grand lyric, "_A Man's a Man for a' That_." +Robert said little, but he drew the lad between his knees, and whispered +something to him which transfigured the child's face. He trusted his +father implicitly, he always had done, and his father had a heartache +that night, when he thought of the wrong that might have been done to +the helpless child. + +Soon after nine o'clock, David Campbell said: "Come, brother, we have a +short ride before us, and I like to close my house at ten; also I am +sure you are weary." + +Robert said he was, but he rose more like a man that had received a +blow, than one simply tired. He could scarcely speak his adieus--and he +could not answer Theodora's invitation to "call early on the following +day" except in single words. "Yes--no--perhaps." + +They were outside the Newton grounds before he spoke to his brother, +then he said: "David, it is too hard. I don't understand. She never +asked me to stay--the Wyntons were asked. I feel as if I had no business +here. I had better go back to Glasgow. I will go back to-morrow." + +"It is not her house. She rents her classroom, and pays her own and her +child's board and lodging there. That is all. She had no right to ask +you to remain. It is Mr. Newton's house, and he received you in a +Christian and gentlemanly spirit. I do not care to say how I would have +received a man who had treated my Agnes, or Flora, in the way Theodora +was treated." + +"I will go back to Glasgow to-morrow." + +"You will do so at the peril of all your future happiness and +prosperity." + +Then they were silent until they reached a great white house standing in +green depths of sweet foliage. Robert wondered and admired. Its vast +hall, and the spacious room, so splendidly furnished, into which his +brother led him, filled him with astonishment. Two pretty girls were +sitting at a table drawing embroidery patterns, and they nearly threw +the table over in their delight when their father entered. + +"Here is your Uncle Robert Campbell!" he cried joyously. "Give him some +of your noisy welcome, and then run away, you little cherubs, or you +will miss your beauty sleep." + +They were soon alone, and David turned out some of the lights and placed +a box of cigars on the table, and the two men smoked in silence for a +little while. Then Robert said: "You are very rich, I suppose, David." + +"Yes, I am tolerably well off." + +"And very happy?" + +"As happy as a man can be, who has lost the dearest and sweetest of +wives." + +"But you will marry again?" + +"Not until my daughters are married! I will never give them a +stepmother; she might make me a stepfather. But when they are settled, I +may marry again." + +"Do you know any one likely to take the place of your dead wife?" + +"No one can ever take her place. There is a very noble woman who may +make her own place in my heart and home. I think it would be a very +strong, sweet place." + +"Is she Scotch?" + +"No." + +"English?" + +"No." + +"American?" + +"Spanish-American." + +"Beautiful?" + +"Very--and of lovely disposition and great attainments. She is also +rich, but that I do not count." + +"What is her name?" + +"Mercedes Morena. She is a Roman Catholic, a woman of fervent piety." + +"Spanish. And a Papist. What will mother say? + +"All kinds of hard things--no doubt--though money makes a good deal of +difference in mother's conclusions. But I care nothing for her opinion; +a wife is a man's most sacred and personal relation. No one has a right +to object to the woman he chooses. It is no one's business but his own." + +"When I married Theodora, she looked as she looked to-night, only +to-night she is far more lovely. Oh, David, I cannot give her up! She is +tied to me by my heart-strings. I shall cease to live, if she refuses +me." + +"And, Robert, she is good as she is lovely. I marvel that you could live +six years at her side, and not grow into her spiritual and mental +likeness." + +"The Campbells have a strong individuality, David." + +"I tell you frankly, she has lifted me upward almost unconsciously. I +would not do the things to-day I did without uneasiness four years ago. +For instance, I would not to-day go into my mother's home and presence +unknown to her. I would not to-day visit you and your works as a +stranger. I enjoyed the incognito four years ago. It appears to me now +dishonorable and vulgar. No one has told me so, or corrected me for +it--the knowledge came with the gradual and general uplift of my ideals, +through companionship and conversation with your wife. How did you +escape her sweet influences?" + +"I kept out of their way." + +"Did you never make any effort to find your wife and child?" + +"I spent four thousand pounds looking for her. Then Isabel advised me to +give the search up, and leave the whole affair to Destiny. I did not +mind the money--much, but I did mind terribly the talk and the +newspapers. I felt it to be a great trial to face even my workmen." + +"How did mother take the event?" + +"She defied it--laughed at it--defended her cruelty--said she would do +it all over again." + +"I have no doubt of it." + +"Dr. Robertson--who heard the whole story from Mrs. Oliphant--came out +to the works to see me, and he said some awful things. He even told me, +that until I repented of my sinful conduct, and acknowledged it before a +session of the Kirk officers, he would refuse the Holy Communion." + +"He did right, Robert, and I am glad to hear that Scotch dominies are +still brave enough to reprove sin in the rich places of the Kirk." + +"Then he went to mother, and told her the same thing." + +"Well?" + +"He could do nothing with mother. She ordered him to 'attend to his +Kirk and his bit sermons, and leave her household alone.' I will not +repeat their conversation--you would not believe any one would dare to +browbeat a minister as she did. He forbid her the sacramental occasion, +and she ordered him out of her house. It made a great scandal. It made +me wretched." + +"What did you do about the Sabbath Day?" + +"There was a new church very near to us, and they were a struggling +congregation, with a boyish kind of minister. Mother was gladly received +there. She rented the most extravagant pew, gave one hundred pounds to +the church fund, and took the minister into her personal care and +protection. Christina and her husband went with her. Mother owns the +Kirk and the minister, and the elders and the deacons, and all the +congregation now. Every one praises her orthodoxy and her generosity, +and she does as she thinks right in Free St. Jude's." + +David laughed heartily, and Robert continued: "All the ladies' societies +meet in Traquair House, and all of them are prosperous. She is president +of some, treasurer of others, and she entertains all of them with a +splendid hospitality. And Christina tells me, she never fails to speak +with pitying scorn of Dr. Robertson and his Kirk. I heard her myself one +day tell them, 'that he was clean behind the times in Christian work. +What is a Kirk worth?' she asked, 'without plenty of Ladies' Auxiliary +Societies? The women in a Kirk must work, God knows the men won't! They +spin a sovereign into the collection box, and think they have done +their full share. Poor things, it is maybe all they can do! The women of +Free St. Jude's must be an example to the Robertson Kirk, and the like +o' it.'" + +"She is a great woman, is mother, in some ways," said David, and he +laughed disdainfully. + +"She is," answered Robert. "I think I will go home to-morrow. Theodora +no longer loves me, and yet, David, I love her a million times more than +ever. No, I can not give her up; I can not, I will not! I will win her +over again--if I stay a year to do it." + +"You would be unworthy of love, or even life, if you gave her up. But +you are worn out and not able to arrange yourself. Come, I will take you +to your room, and to-morrow go and ask her plainly, if she still loves +you." + +"I will." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE RECONSTRUCTED MARRIAGE + + +During the following three weeks, Robert lived in an earthly paradise. +His brother drew him with cords of strong wisdom and affection always +into the ways of pleasantness and peace. Theodora grew every day more +lovely and more familiar; her little coolnesses vanished in the warmth +of Robert's smiles, her shy pride was conquered by his persistent and +passionate wooing; and the days went by in a glory of innocent +amusements. Theodora and little David were clever and fearless riders, +and they soon made the accomplishment easy to Robert, who was delighted +with its joyful mastery, and greatly disappointed if bad weather, or any +other event, prevented their morning gallop. + +Very frequently he accompanied his brother into San Francisco, met many +of her great financiers and merchants, and was their guest at such +elaborate lunches and dinners as he had never dreamed possible. Or, he +went with Mr. Newton to his vineyard and watched the process of +raisin-making. And Theodora had a dance for him, and the lovely young +girls present taught him the American steps, and made him wonder over +their beauty, their brightness, their perfect ease of manner, and their +manifest superiority and authority over male adorers, who appeared to +be perfectly delighted with their own subjugation. A full course at the +greatest university in the world would not have given him such a +civilizing social education as the pretty girls of San Francisco did in +a month. + +But all things come to an end, and one day Robert received two letters +which compelled a pause in this pleasant life. They were from his mother +and his head manager. His mother wrote: "You be to come home, Robert +Campbell; everything is going to the mischief wanting you! I am hearing +that the men are on strike at the works, and that the fires have been +banked, and the gates locked. Jamie Rathey is drinking too much wine and +neglecting his business, and Christina is whimpering and scolding, for +she knows well he will not behave himself until he gets the word from +you. As for myself, I am barely holding up against the great strain, for +there's none to help me, Christina having trouble enough in her own +shoes, and My Lady Wynton having almost forgotten the way to her own +home, since she was promoted to a residence in Wynton Castle. So, +Robert, my lad, come back as quick as you can, for your mother is sorely +needing you." + +He showed this letter to his brother, and David only smiled. "Let me see +your manager's letter, Robert," he asked, and when he had read it, he +smiled still more significantly. + +"I do not think your letters need give you any anxiety, Robert," he +said. "The letter from Andrew Starkie, your manager, is dated two days +later than mother's, and he does not even name a strike among your +workers. He seems troubled only because the orders are so large he is +afraid that the cash left at his command will not be sufficient to carry +them out. We can send more money to-day. I see no necessity for you to +hurry. I want you to take a sail up to Vancouver, and another sail down +to the Isthmus. You have given me no time yet. And what about your +position with Theodora?" + +"I must find that out immediately. The day after I came, I gave her a +ring she valued highly--a ring that her pupils presented to her. It had +been stolen, and I recovered it, and she was delighted when I put it on +her finger. But when I offered her the wedding ring she returned it to +me, she shook her head, closed her eyes, and would not look at it." + +"Try her again. She has changed since then. I am sure she loves you +now." + +"I am just going to her," and he turned away with such a mournful look +that his brother called him back. + +"Look here, Robert," he said, "faint heart never won fair lady, or +anything else for that matter. Your face is enough to frighten any +woman. Women do not fancy despairers." + +"David, you don't know what a hopeless task it is to court your wife. +She knows all your weak points, and just how most cruelly to snub you." + +"That is not Theodora's way! Speak to her kindly, but bravely. Be +straight in all you say, for I declare to you she _feels_ a lie." + +"Great heavens! I should think I know that, David. I was often forced to +break my promises to her, or in the stress of business I forgot them; +and at last, she never noticed any promise I made. It used to make me +angry." + +"What made you angry?" + +"O, the change in her face, when I said I would do anything. She never +contradicted me in words, but I knew she was mentally throwing my +promise over her shoulder. It was not pleasant." + +"Very unpleasant--to her." + +"I meant to myself." + +"Well, Robert, when you are going to ask a woman to do you a miraculous +favor, do not think of yourself, think of her. Forget yourself, this +morning." + +"O, I think constantly of Theodora." + +David looked queerly at his brother, and seemed on the point of asking +him a question, but he likely thought it useless. Robert went off trying +to look hopeful and brave, but inwardly in a muddle of anxious +uncertainty, because of his mother's letter. He found Theodora in a +shady corner of the piazza; she was reclining in a Morris chair, and +thinking of him. Her loving smile, her happy leisure, her morning +freshness and beauty, her outstretched hand, made an entrancing picture. +He placed a chair at her side, and sat down, and Theodora after a glance +into his face asked: + +"O, knight of the rueful countenance, what troubles you this beautiful +morning?" + +"I have had letters from home," he answered; "not pleasant letters." + +"From your mother, then?" + +"One of them is from mother." + +"She could not write a pleasant letter, and if she could, she would +not." + +"Will you read it?" + +"I would not cast my eyes upon anything her eyes have looked on." + +"She says enough to make it necessary for me to go home." + +"Home?" + +"It is the only home I have. You----" + +"Do not include me, in any remark about your home." + +"Once you made my home your home." + +"Never! There was no such thing as home, in Traquair House." + +"But, my darling Dora--my darling wife----" + +"I am not your wife. When I sent you the wedding ring back--that you +said was yours, not mine--I divorced myself from all a wife's duties, +pains, and penalties." + +"You are my wife, and nothing but my death can make you free." + +"Oh, but you are mistaken! You made a solemn contract with me, and you +broke every condition of that contract." + +"Suppose I did, that----" + +"Your faithlessness made the contract null and void----" + +"The law of England----" + +"I care nothing about the law of England. I am now an American citizen." + +"But, Dora, my dear, dear love, you will surely go back to Glasgow with +me?" + +"Not for all creation! I would rather die." + +"Am I to go back alone? That is too cruel." + +"Why do you wish to go back?" + +"Have you considered my business, Dora?" + +"No, I have thought only of you." + +"But you must think of my business. How can you expect me to give it up? +Why, the 'Campbell Iron Works' are almost historic. They were founded by +my great-grandfather. They are making more money under my management +than ever they did before." + +"If you put your historic iron works before me, you are not worthy of +me." + +"My mother's, and my sister's livelihoods are in the works. They look to +me to protect them." + +"If you put your mother, and your sisters before me, you are not worthy +of me." + +"They love me, Dora." + +"Your mother has many investments. She is rich. Your sisters are well +married. Neither of them would put you before their husbands, why should +you put them before your wife and son? If they had loved you, they would +not have broken up your home, and driven your wife and child away from +you. You were a provider of cash, a giver of social prestige to them--no +more." + +"Then you expect me to give up my family, my business, my +country--everything." + +"I will have everything, or nothing." + +She rose as she said these words, and stood looking into his face with +eyes full of love and trouble. + +"Then God help me, Theodora," he faltered, "for this hour I die to every +hope of happiness in this life!" He lifted her hand, and his tears +dropped on it as he kissed it. "Farewell! Farewell!" + +He was standing before her the image of despairing Love, and she lifted +her eyes, and they met the passionate grief in his. She could not bear +it. "Oh, Robert!" she sobbed, "Oh, Robert, I do love you. I have loved +none but you. I never shall love any other." She laid her head against +his shoulder, and he silently kissed her many times, and then went +slowly away. + +He went straight to his brother with his sorrow, and David listened in +grave silence, until the story of the interview was over. Then he said +softly: + +"_Poor Theodora!_" + +Robert was astonished, even hurt by the exclamation. "Why do you pity +Theodora?" he asked. "It is I you ought to pity." + +"You ought to have had pity on yourself, Robert. Of course, you are +miserable, and you will be far more miserable. How could you bear to +give your wife such a cowardly disappointment; how could you do it?" + +"I do not understand you, David--cowardly----" + +"Yes, that is the word for it. You have been persuading her for a month, +that you loved her before, and above, all earthly things. As you +noticed, she did not at first believe this, but I am sure the last two +weeks she has taken all your protestations into her heart." + +"I told her nothing but the truth." + +"And as soon as you think she loves you----" + +"She does love me--she says so." + +"You take advantage of her love, and ask her to go back to a life that +almost killed her, before she fled from it. Poor Theodora! And I call +your act a selfish, cowardly one." + +"What did you expect me to do?" + +"To give up everything for her." + +"To give up the works--the Campbell Iron Works! To give them up! Sell +them perhaps at a loss! Did you expect I would do this?" + +"I did. I supposed you wished her to be again your wife." + +"You know I wished it." + +"I do not believe you. I think as your holiday was over, you wished to +back out of your promise, and you knew the easiest way to do so was to +require her to go back to Glasgow." + +"Back out! What do you mean, David?" + +"Your mother orders you home, and rather than offend her, or meet her +sarcasms, you ask Theodora to do what you well know she will never do. +Having taught her to love you again, you make her an offer that it is +impossible for her to accept; then you leave her to suffer once more +the pang of wrong and despairing love. Cowardly is too mild a word; your +conduct is that of a scoundrel." + +"My God, David, are you turning against me?" + +"Robert, Robert! I am ashamed of you. Suppose Theodora went back to +Glasgow with you, what would be her position, and what would +people--especially women--say about it? She would be a wife who ran away +from her husband, but whom her husband discovered, and brought back to +her duties. Upon this text, what cutting, cruel speeches mother and all +the women in your set would make. The position would be a triumph for +you--some men would envy and admire you, all would praise you for +standing up so persistently for the authority of the male. But poor +Theodora, who would stand by her?" + +"I would." + +"And your defence of your wife would be counted as a thing chivalrous +and magnanimous in you, but it would be disgraceful in her to require +it. She, the poor innocent one, would get all the blame and the shame, +you, the guilty one----" + +"Stop, David! I never thought of her return in this light." + +"I can imagine mother and the rest of the women chortling and glorying +over the runaway wife brought back." + +"I tell you, I would stand by her through thick and thin." + +"But you could not prevent the women hounding her, and upon my honor, +Robert, she would deserve it." + +"No, David. She would not deserve it." + +"I say she would." + +"What for?" + +"For coming back with you. Every woman with a particle of self-respect +would feel that she had betrayed her sex, and dishonored her wifehood, +and they would despise, and speak ill of her for doing so. And she would +deserve it." + +"Then all this month you have been expecting me to come here to live?" + +"There was no other manly and gentlemanly way out of your dilemma; and +your coming at all authorized the expectation." + +"The iron works are not all, David. Do you think I care nothing for my +family, and my country?" + +"Do you think you are the only person who cares for their family? What +about Theodora's feelings? Her father gave up his ministry, and taking +his wife and the savings of his whole life, he came here to the ends of +the earth with his child, because you had treated her and her son +cruelly. Now you ask her to leave them here, in a new country, where +they have not one relative--in their old age----" + +"I forgot their claim. I will pay all their expenses back to England." + +"Mrs. Newton could not bear the journey back. Mr. Newton has lost all +his interests in England; what money they have is invested here. Oh, if +you do not instantly see their pitiful condition without their +daughter, it is useless to explain it to you. Then there is their +grandchild. He is the light of their life. If their grandchild was taken +away, they would be bereft indeed." + +"Their grandchild is my son. My claim is paramount. I must have my boy +at all hazards. I want him educated in Scotland, and brought up a +Scotchman, not an American. He will be heir to the works, and must +understand the people, and the conditions he has to live with, and work +with." + +"You will never make a Scotchman of Davie. You will never get him out of +this country, or this state. You will never make an iron-worker of +David, he loves too well the free, and open-air life; and the blue +skies, and sunshine." + +"He is under authority, and must come." + +"Under his mother's authority yet, and mind this, Robert, _you will not +be permitted_ to take him from her; _not be permitted_, I say." + +"My God, what am I to do?" + +"Do right. There is no other way to be happy." + +"There are two rights here, my mother and my sisters have claims as well +as my wife and my son." + +"Then for God's sake go to your mother and your sisters! Why did you +come to me for advice, when you are still tied to your mother's +apron-strings." + +"Now, you are angry at me." + +"Yes, and justly so. But if you are bent on Glasgow, the sooner you +start for the dismal city, the better." + +"I will go at once. Will you let some one drive me to San Francisco?" + +"I will tell Saki to bring a buggy to the door in half-an-hour." + +"Don't go away from me, David--don't do that! I am miserable enough +without your desertion." + +"I am disappointed in you, Robert--sorely, sorely disappointed. I have +had a dream about our future lives together, and it is, it seems, only a +dream. Good-bye, Robert! I do not feel able to watch the ending of all +my hopes, so Saki will drive you to the city. And you, too, will be +better alone. Good-bye, good-bye!" + +So they parted, and Robert was driven into the city and took his ticket +for the next train bound for New York. He had some hours to wait, and he +went to the hotel he had frequented with his brother, and sat down in +the office. Undoubtedly there was a secret hope in his heart, that David +would follow him, and he watched with anxiety every newcomer. But David +did not follow him, and when he could wait no longer, he went to his +train. Bitter disquiet and uncertainty wrung his heart, and he was glad +when the moving train permitted him to isolate himself in a dismal, +sullen stillness. + +He had also a violent nervous headache, and physical pain was a thing he +knew so little about, that he was astonished at his suffering, and +resented it. "And this is the end of everything!" he muttered to +himself, "the end of everything! It was brutal to expect me to give up +my business, my family, and my country," and then he ceased, for +something reminded him that Theodora had once made that same sacrifice +for him. In any crisis the "set" of the life will count, and the "set" +of Robert's life was selfishness. This passion now boldly combated all +dissent from his personal satisfaction, denied any supremacy but his +will, drowned the voice of Honor, the pleadings of Love, and insisted on +his own pleasure and interest, at all costs. + +Sorrow, if it be possible, takes refuge in sleep; but sleep was far from +Robert Campbell. His body was racked with physical suffering that he +knew not how to alleviate; his soul was aching in all its senses. He was +assailed by memories, every one of which he would like to have met with +a shriek. All he loved was behind him, every moment he was leaving them +further behind. And his God dwelt--or visited--only in sacred buildings. +He never thought of Him as in a railway car, never supposed Him to be +observant of the trouble between his wife and himself, would not have +believed that there was present an Omniscient Eye, looking with ancient +kindness on all his pain, and ready to relieve it. And oh, the terror of +those long nights, when suffering, sorrow, and remorse were riotous, and +where to him, _God was not_! + +On the second day, the conductor began to watch Campbell. He induced him +to take a cup of strong coffee and lie down, and then went among the +passengers seeking a physician. "I am a physician," said a young man +whose seat was not far from Robert's. "I am Dr. Stuart of San Francisco. +I have been watching the man you mean; he is either insane or ill. I +will not neglect him." + +Robert was really ill; he grew better and worse, better and worse +constantly, until they were near Denver. Then Dr. Stuart went to his +side and made another effort to induce him to converse. "You are ill," +he said. "I am a physician and know it. You must stop travelling for a +few days. Get off at Denver. Where is your home?" + +"In Scotland. I am going there." + +"Impossible--as you now are. Get off at Denver. Go to an hotel, and send +for this physician," and he handed him a slip of paper on which the name +was written. Robert glanced at it, and held it in his hand. + +"Put it in your vest pocket." + +He did so, but his hands trembled so violently, and he looked into the +man's face with eyes so full of unspeakable suffering and sorrow, that +the stranger's heart was touched. He resolved to get off at Denver with +him, and see that he was properly attended to. + +"What is your name?" he asked. + +"I am Robert Campbell." + +"Brother of David Campbell of San Francisco?" + +"Yes." + +"He is as good a man as ever lived. I know him well." + +"Write and tell him his brother is dying--he will come to me." + +"Oh, no! you are not dying. We will not bring him such a long journey. I +will stay with you, until you are better--but off the train you must +get." + +"Thank you! I will do as you say. I will pay you well." + +"I am not thinking of 'pay.' I know your brother, it is pay enough to +serve him, by helping you." + +Robert nodded and tried to smile. He put his hand into the doctor's +hand, went with him to a carriage, and they were driven to an hotel. +During the change, he did not speak, he had all that he could manage, to +keep himself erect and preserve his consciousness. But there are +mystically in our faces, certain characters, which carry in them the +motto of our souls; and the motto the doctor read on Robert's face +was--_No Surrender_. He told himself this, when he had got his patient +into bed, and surrounded him with darkness and stillness and given him a +sedative. "Some men would proceed to have brain fever," he mused, "but +not this man. He will fight off sickness, resent it, deny it, and rise +above it in a few days. I'll give him a week--but he will not succumb. +There's no surrender in that face, though it is white and thin with +suffering." + +For four days, however, Robert wavered between better and worse, as the +gusts of frantic remorse and despair assailed him. Then he forgot +everything but the irreparable mistake that had ruined his life, and +during the paroxysms whispered continually: "Oh, God! oh, God! that it +were possible to undo things done!" a whisper that could hardly be heard +by mortal ears, but which passed beyond the constellations, and reached +the ear and the heart of Him, who dwelleth in the Heaven of Heavens. + +It was in one of those awful encounters of the soul with itself, that he +reached the depth of suffering in which we see clearly; for there is no +such revealer as sorrow. Suddenly and swift as a flash of light, he knew +his past life, as he would know it in eternity--its selfishness, its +cruelty, its injustice. Then he heard words which pealed through his +soul, with heavenly-sweet convincingness, and left their echo forever +there. For awhile he remained motionless and speechless, and let the +comforting revelation fill him with adoring love and gratitude. And +those few minutes of pause and praise were not only sacrificial and +sacramental, they were strong with absolution. He knew what he must do; +he had not a doubt, not a reservation of any kind. In a space of time so +short that we have no measure for it, he had surrendered everything, and +been made worthy to receive everything. + +O, Mystery of Life, from what a depth proceed thy comforts and thy +lessons! Even the chance acquaintance had had his meaning, and had done +his work. Robert had some wonderful confidences with him, as he lay for +a week free of pain, and quietly gathering strength for the journey he +must take the moment he was able for it. He had no hesitation as to +this journey. He knew that he must go back to Theodora--back to the same +goal he had turned away from. Peradventure the blessing he had rejected +might yet be waiting there. + +In ten days Dr. Stuart permitted him to travel, and without pause or +regret he reached San Francisco, refreshed himself, and taking a +carriage drove out to the Newtons'. It was afternoon when he reached the +place, and it had the drowsy afternoon look and feeling. He sent the +carriage to the stable, and told the driver to wait there for further +orders--and then walked up to the house. As he passed Mr. Newton's study +he saw him sitting reading, and he opened the door and went in. The +preacher looked up in astonishment, rose and walked towards him. + +"Robert," he said softly, "is that you?" + +"Yes, father. I have been very ill. I have come back to ask your +forgiveness--and _hers_--if she will listen to me." + +"I am glad to see you. Sit down. You look ill--what can I do for you?" + +"Listen to me! I will tell you all." + +Then he opened his heart freely to the preacher, who listened with +intense sympathy and understanding--sometimes speaking a word of +encouragement, sometimes only touching his hand, or whispering, "Go on, +Robert." And perhaps there was not another man in California, so able to +comprehend the marvellous story of Robert's return unto his better self. +For he had in a large measure that penetrative insight into +spiritualities, which connect man with the unseen world; and that +mystical, incommunicable sense of a life, that is not this life. He knew +its voices, intuitions, and celestial intimations--things, which no one +knoweth, save they who receive them. And when Robert had finished his +confession, he said: + +"I also, Robert, have stood on that shining table-land which lies on the +frontier of our consciousness; and there received that blessed +_certainty of God_ which can never again leave the soul. And you must +not wonder at the suddenness and rapidity of the vision. Every +experience of this kind _must_ be sharply sudden. That chasm dividing +the seen from the unseen, must be taken at one swift bound, or not at +all. You cannot break that leap. Thank God, you have taken it! This +remembrance, and the power it has left behind, can never depart from +you; for + + '_Whoso has felt the Spirit of the Highest, + Cannot confound, nor doubt Him, nor deny._' + +The whole world may deny, but what is the voice of the whole world to +those, who have _seen_ and _heard_ and _known_ + + _'A deep below the deep, + And a height beyond the height, + Where our hearing is not hearing, + And our seeing is not sight'?_ + +What you have told me, Robert, also goes to confirm what I have before +noticed--that this great favor of vision is usually the cup of strength, +given to us in some great agony or strait." + +"Now, father, may I see Theodora?" + +"She went to her room to rest after our early dinner. She also has +suffered." + +"She is in the parlor. I hear her singing. Let us go to her." + +At the parlor door they stood a minute and listened to the music. It was +strong and clear, and her voice held both the sorrow and the hope that +was in her heart: + + "_My heart is dashed with cares and fears, + My song comes fluttering and is gone, + But high above this home of tears + Eternal Joy sings on--sings on!_" + +The last strain was a triumphant one, and to its joy they entered. Then +Theodora's face was transfigured, she came swiftly towards them, and Mr. +Newton laid her hand in Robert's hand, and so left them. And into the +love and wonder and thanksgiving of that conversation we cannot enter; +no, not even with the sweetest and clearest imagination. + +In a couple of hours David came, and Robert joined his father and +brother, and Theodora went to assist her mother in preparing the evening +meal. She found her standing by an open window, wringing her thin, small +hands, and silently weeping. + +"Mother, mother!" cried Theodora, clasping her in her strong arms; "why +are you weeping?" + +"It is that man here again," Mrs. Newton faltered. "I thought that +trouble was over. I can bear no more of it, dear." + +"He will never give you another moment's grief, dear mother. He is +totally changed. He has had an experience; he has been what we +call--converted--mother." + +"Do you believe that?" + +"With all my soul! He has given up everything that made sin and +trouble." + +"Then all is well. I am satisfied." + +"Robert will not be happy until you have welcomed him." + +"Then I will go and do so." + +That evening as they sat together David said: "Father and mother, I wish +to speak for my brother and myself. We are going into a business +partnership, as soon as Robert has been to Glasgow, and turned all his +property into cash. Whatever he is worth, I will double, and 'Campbell +Brothers, Bankers,' I believe, will soon become an important factor in +the financial world of San Francisco." + +"It is a good thing, David. You two working as one will be a multitude. +No one knows the financial conditions here better than you do, David, +and as an investor, I do not believe you have ever made a mistake." + +"I think not, father. Well, then, we will all go into San Francisco as +soon as Robert has rested a little, and select a home for him. I know +of two houses for sale, either of which would be suitable." + +"And when the house is chosen," said Robert, "I hope, mother, you will +assist Theodora in furnishing it just as she wishes, keeping her in +mind, however, that she must be quite extravagant. Simplicity and +economy are out of place in a banker's home, for entertaining on a large +scale will have to be done." + +It was arranged that David should go East with Robert, and see him +safely on board a good liner, and the details of these projects occupied +the family happily for three days; at the end of which they went to San +Francisco. When Theodora's future home had been selected, David and +Robert took the train for New York; the whole family sending them off +with smiles and blessings. And Robert thought of his previous leaving, +and was unspeakably happy and grateful. + +On their journey to New York, the brothers settled every detail of their +banking business, and Robert was amazed at his brother's financial +instinct and business enterprise. "We shall make a great deal of money, +Robert," he said, "and we must do a great deal of good with it. I have +some ideas on that subject which we will talk over at the proper time." + +So the journey was not tiresome, and when it was over, both were a +little sorry. But work was to do, and Robert knew that he would be +restless until he had finished his preparations for his new life, and +got rid of all encumbrances of the past. + +The sea journey was short and pleasant, and it removed the most evident +traces of his illness. His face was thinner, but that was an +improvement; and his figure, if more slender was more active, and there +was about him the light and aura of one who is thoroughly happy, and at +peace with God and man. + +As soon as he arrived in Glasgow, he went to his club, and looked over +the accumulation of letters waiting him. It was raining steadily--that +summer rain which we feel to be so particularly unwanted. The streets +were sloppy, the air damp, the sky dull, and not brightened by the +occasional glints of pale sunshine; but when he had relieved his mind of +its most pressing business, he went to Traquair House. Jepson opened the +door for him, but the man looked ill, and said he was on the point of +leaving Glasgow. Robert could now sympathize with him, for he had +learned the agony of constant headache, and he said so. The man looked +at him in amazement, and he told McNab of the circumstance, adding: "The +master was never so kind to me in all his life, as he was to-day." McNab +answered curtly: + +"No wonder! He has been living wi' decent folk lately, and decency +tells. Them Californians are the civilest o' mortals. You'll mind my ain +lad, that was here about four years syne?" + +"I'll never forget him, Mistress McNab. A perfect gentleman." + +"Weel, he was, in a way, a Californian--born, of course, in Scotland, +but knocked about among the Californians, until he learned how to behave +himsel' to rich and poor and auld and young, and special to women and +bairns." + +While this conversation was going on Robert sat in the old dining-room. +It was dismal enough at all times, especially so in rainy weather, and +more specially so when it was summer rain, and no blazing fire +brightened the dark mahogany and the crimson draperies. + +His mother was at home, but he was told Christina was occupying the +little villa he had bought at Inverkip. He had not been asked for its +use, and it contained a good deal of Theodora's needlework, and much +summer clothing. For a few minutes he was angry, but he quickly reasoned +his anger away. "There are no happy memories about any of the things. It +is better they should not come into our future life," he said to +himself. He wondered his mother did not come, and asked Jepson if she +had been told. "Yes, she had been told, and had sent word 'she would be +down as soon as dressed.'" + +It was an hour before she was dressed, and Robert felt the gloom and +chill of waiting. Indeed, he was so uncomfortably cold, that he asked +for a fire, and was standing before it enjoying its blaze and warmth +when Mrs. Campbell entered. + +"Good gracious, Robert!" she cried, "a fire in August! I never heard +tell of such a thing." + +"I am just from a warm, sunny country, mother, and I have also been ill, +and so I feel the cold." + +"Well, well! Put a screen between me and the blaze. I am not auld enou' +yet, to require a blaze in August." + +"To-morrow, it will be the first of September. How are you, mother?" + +"Fine. That foolish fellow you left over the works came here--came +special, mind ye--to tell me you were vera ill. He said he had received +a letter from a Dr. Stuart, living in a place called Denver, saying you +were at Death's door, or words to that effect; but I sent him back to +his proper business wi' a solid rebuke for leaving it. I'm not the woman +to thank any one for bringing me bad news--lies, too, very likely." + +"No, I was very ill." + +"Say so, where was there any necessity for the man to be sending word o' +it half round the world? Nobody here could help. It was just making +discomfort for no good at all." + +"I suppose he thought, if I died, my friends might possibly like to know +what had become of me." + +"I wasna feared for you dying. Not I! I knew Robert Campbell had mair +sense than to die among strangers. Then there was the works left to +themselves, as it were, and that weary woman you've been seeking mair +than four years, just found out, and I said to myself, if I know Robert +Campbell, he won't be stravaganting to another world, whilst his affairs +in this world are all helter-skelter." + +"I have come here to put my affairs as I desire them. Then I am going +back to California." + +"I do not believe you. You are just leeing to me." + +"Mother, I am going to sell the works. I want to live in California." + +"To please Theodora," she said scornfully. + +"To please Theodora and myself. I like the country; it is sunny and +delightful, and the people are wonderfully gracious and kind." + +"Of course, they have to be more than ordinary civil, or what decent +people would live among the crowd that went there?" + +"That element has disappeared. There are no finer men and women in the +world than the Californians. I shall ask for citizenship among them." + +Then the temper she had been trying to control broke loose, and carried +all before it. "You base fellow!" she cried, "you traitor to all good! +You are unworthy of the country, the home, and the business you desert. +I am ashamed to have brought you into the world. To surrender everything +for a creature like your runaway wife is monstrously wicked--is +incredibly shameful!" + +"If I could surrender more for Theodora, I would gladly do it, so that I +might atone for what I, and you, made her suffer. And she has not taken +me to California--you drove her there." + +"I'm gey glad I did." + +"And as she will not come back here, I must go to her there. Your own +work, mother." + +"Very good. I accept it. I'm proud o' it." + +"My dear mother----" + +"Stop palavering! You can cut out 'dear.'" + +"Let us talk reasonably. I came here to ask whether you will remain a +shareholder in the works, or withdraw your money?" + +"I'll withdraw every bawbee out o' them. Your sisters can do as they +like. And may I ask, what you are going to do? Become a miner, and carry +a pick and a dinner-pail? That would be a proper ending for Robert +Campbell." + +"I am going to join my brother David in a banking business in San +Francisco." + +"Your brother David! Your brother David! So he is in California, too? +_Dod!_ I might have known it--the very place for the like o' him." + +"He is one of the princes of Californian finance. He dwells in a palace. +He is worth many millions of dollars." + +"_Dollars!_" and she spit the word out of her mouth with inexpressible +scorn--"dollars! what kind o' money is that? I wouldn't gie you a copper +half-penny for your dollar." + +"A dollar is worth just one hundred half-pennies." + +"I'm not believing you. Why should I? And pray how did you foregather +wi' your runawa' brother?" + +"He is Theodora's neighbor, and she is educating his daughters." + +"And pray how did Dora happen on your brother? It is a vera singular +coincidence, and I am no believer in coincidences. If the truth were +known, they have all o' them been carefully planned, and weel +arranged." + +"She met my brother here in Glasgow." + +"She did nothing o' the kind." + +"She met him at the Oliphants'." + +"Oh, oh! I see, I see! The dark man so often riding about wi' Mistress +Oliphant was your brother?" + +"He was my brother David, and he was also McNab's foster-son." + +"Great heavens! What a fool Margaret Campbell has been for once! To +think o' Flora McNab making a mock o' me. She told me he was her son." + +"So he was, in a way. McNab suckled him, and mothered him, as well as +she could. She was the only mother he had." + +"You lie, Robert Campbell. I was his mother." + +"You ought to be proud of it." + +"Is his wife alive or dead?" + +"She is dead. He will marry again soon." + +"Some of the Oliphant kin, I suppose?" + +"No. She is not a Scotchwoman." + +"I hope to goodness she isn't English." + +"She is Spanish-American, a great beauty, and almost as rich as David +himself." + +"_Humph!_ I am believing no such fairy-tale. Why would a rich beauty be +wanting David Campbell?" + +"David is a very handsome man." + +"Mrs. Oliphant seemed to think so!" + +"Every one thinks so." + +"I hope she is not a Methodist." + +"She is a Roman Catholic." + +"A Roman Catholic! A Campbell can get no further downward than that. +Your forefathers fought--and, thank God, mostly killed--a Roman Catholic +on sight. Ah weel, I suppose it is the money." + +"Oh, no! David would not marry for money." + +"He didn't anyhow. He married a poor, plain, beggarly sewing-girl." + +"She was a minister's daughter, and he loved her." + +"Weel, Robert Campbell, I hope you have emptied your creel o' bad news. +If you have any more tak' it back to where it came from. I'll not listen +to another word from you." + +"I must ask you, what you wish about this house? If you desire to remain +here, I will not sell it." + +"I'll not stop in it, any longer than it takes me to move out o' it. You +are no kin to me now, and thank God, I am not come to a dependence on a +Scotch turncoat, or even an American citizen!" + +"Do you think Christina would like the use o' it?" + +"Christina is doing better. Rathey is going to be man-of-law and private +secretary to Sir Thomas, and they are to have the Wynton Dower House to +live in, a handsome place in a big garden." + +"Will you go with her, mother?" + +"It is none of your business where I go. I would not ask a shelter from +you, if I were going to the poor-house. I am going where I'll be rid of +whimpering wives, and whining bairns, and fleeching, flattering folk, +who want siller for their fine words. I'm done with the old, unhappy +house. Sell it as soon as you like. It was an ill day when I stepped +o'er its threshold." + +"Then good-bye, mother. Say a kind word to me. We may meet no more in +this world." He advanced towards her and put out his hand. + +She rose and lifted her solitaire pack of cards--which was lying on the +table by which she stood--and began shuffling them in her hands. "You +ungrateful son of your mother Scotland and your mother Campbell!" she +cried. "You traitor to every obligation due your family! You slave to a +Methodist wife, go to your Papist-loving brother. California is a proper +home for you. _Dod!_ I am sick of the whole lot o' you--lads and lassies +baith--Isabel is o'er much 'my lady' for any sensible body to thole; and +Christina is aye sniffling and worrying about her bairns, or her silly, +fiddling husband. I am sick, tired--heart and soul tired--o' the serpent +brood o' you Campbells; and you may scatter yoursel's o'er the face o' +the whole earth, for aught I care," and with these words she flung the +cards in her hand far and wide, over the large room. She was in an +incredible passion, and Robert put his hand on her arms, crying in +terror and amazement: + +"Mother! Mother! Mother! For God's sake I entreat----" + +"Out o' my sight instanter!" she answered. "Scotland and Margaret +Campbell is weel rid o' the like o' you." She shook off his restraining +hands, and clasping her own behind her back, she went to a window and +stood there looking far over the dull, wet street to some vision +conjured up by her raging, scornful passion. + +Robert again approached her. "I am going, mother," he said. "God forgive +us both! Farewell!" and he once more offered her a pleading hand. She +looked at it a moment, but kept her own resolutely clasped behind her, +and finally with an imperative motion uttered one fierce word: + +"_Go!_" + +She was still at the window when he reached the sidewalk, and he raised +his hat, and looked at her as he passed. But her gaze was intentionally +far off, and if she saw this last act of entreaty, she was beyond the +wish, or even the ability to notice it. + +Robert was very miserable, so much so that he forgot to write to +Theodora, and when he awoke after a restless night and remembered the +omission he said with a sigh: "Theodora is right. It must be everything +or nothing. If I could get her to come back here, it would be the old +trouble over again--and worse." + +That day he went to the Wyntons', and talked with Sir Thomas about the +sale of the works. He was in hopes that he could form a syndicate, buy +the works, and make himself president. And at first the baronet was +enthusiastic about the scheme, but day after day, and week after week +went on, and nothing definite was arrived at. Isabel had strong family +feeling, and she was sullenly silent about the sale of the furnaces, and +her brother's settlement in America. The works had done so well under +Robert's direction, that her income had been nearly doubled, and she +thought that he ought to continue his labor, where Providence had +enabled him to do so well for the family. Finally, Robert abandoned the +Wynton scheme, and went to Sheffield to see his old business friend +Priestley. The visit was destined and propitious, and in three weeks the +transfer of the Campbell Iron Works to a Yorkshire iron company was +completed, and Robert was ready to return home. + +He was glad of it. His visit had been a painful and separating one. His +sisters had disappointed him. He was sure Isabel had prevented her +husband's desire to buy the works, and she had let him feel, in her +cold, silent way, that she disapproved of his selling them, and still +more disapproved of his settlement in America. And the selfish little +soul of Christina complained constantly of Robert leaving her money in +strange hands. She thought it was his duty to stay in Glasgow and manage +the works for his mother's and sisters' benefit; and when the sisters +talked of the matter together, they expressed themselves very plainly +about that "Englishwoman who had been so unfortunate to their house." + +Robert went from Sheffield to Liverpool, and did not return to Glasgow. +He was glad and grateful to set his face westward and homeward. Nothing +of importance happened on the journey, and when he reached San Francisco +his brother David was waiting at the railway depot to welcome him. They +clasped hands and looked into each other's eyes, and everything was well +said that words would have said clumsily. It was then nearly dark, and +they went to the hotel for the night. Far into the midnight hours they +sat discussing their business future, and David was astonished at the +fortune which Robert had made out of the old works. And Robert was still +more astonished at the fortune which his brother had made out of his +relatively small capital, and his own business sagacity and native +industry and prudence. + +In the early morning David wished his brother to go and look over the +new home which Theodora had been preparing, but Robert said he wanted to +see Theodora above all things, and would go at once out to the Newtons'. + +"Very good," replied David, "then you will go alone, for I am to bring +Mercedes with me, and I cannot call for her before ten. It is a charming +thing, Robert, that Mercedes and Theodora love each other dearly. They +have worked together constantly over your new home, and made it a lovely +place. I suppose you will be married this afternoon." + +"Married! Married! Does Theodora expect it?" + +"I think all preparations are made for the little ceremony. I would not +disapprove, if I were you, Robert." + +"Disapprove! What do you mean? I shall be the most joyful man in the +world." + +Breakfast was scarcely over when Robert reached Newton Place; and +Theodora came running to meet him with a large apron over her pretty +white dress. But oh, how beautiful was her beaming, smiling face, how +tender her embrace, how sweet the loving words with which she welcomed +him. He was paid, and overpaid, for all he had suffered, and all he had +resigned. + +"We shall be married this afternoon, eh darling?" he asked. + +"All shall be as you wish, my love. I am ready," she answered. + +Such a delightful morning! Such a happy hurry in the house! Such sweet +laughter, and pleasant calling of each other's names! Such enthusiasm +over Mercedes' beauty in her pink satin costume! Such an enjoyable +little lunch at one o'clock! Such a bewildering number of pleasant +events crowded into a few hours. If ever there was in any earthly home a +sense of heavenly love and joy, it was in the Newton house that day. +Angels might--and probably did--rest in the flower-scented atmosphere of +its spotless rooms, for if angels rejoice with the sinner forgiven and +accepted, surely still more will they rejoice in the fruition of tried +and accepted love, and in the unselfish affection of those who rejoice, +because others rejoice. + +Just before three o'clock Mr. and Mrs. Newton went together to the +parlor and sat down by a small table covered with a white cloth, on +which there lay a Bible and a Book of Common Prayer. A few minutes later +David and Robert came in, and stood talking to them, until the door +opened and Theodora and Mercedes entered. Then Mr. Newton stood up, and +Robert and Theodora stood before him, and renewed their marriage vows in +the most solemn and simple manner. There were no decorations, no music, +no attendants, no company, nothing but a prayer, and the old, old ritual +of a thousand years. But after it Mr. Newton told them in a few +sentences, how supremely important love is to the soul. + +"It perishes without love," he said. "To the soul love is blessing, love +is salvation, love is the guardian angel, and without love the +centrifugal law easily overpowers and sweeps it far out from its divine +source, towards the cold frontiers of the material and the manifold." + +Then there was a tender and cheerful good-bye, and Robert and Theodora +went to their new home. They wandered hand in hand through all its +beautiful rooms, and through the scented walks of its fair garden, and +Robert said: "It is a palace in Paradise, darling." + +"And I am so happy! So proud, and so happy, dear Robert!" she answered. + +After a perfect dinner at their own table, Robert went to his wife's +parlor to smoke his cigar, and then he told her all about his last +unhappy visit to his family, and his native land. + +It was the necessary minor note in their joyful wedding song, but it +soon returned to its triumphant dominant, since they must needs rejoice +in that loving Power which had so surely "tempered all things well," + + "_Had worked their pleasure out of pain, + And out of ruin golden gain._" + +And as they talked in the splendid room, with its sweet odors and dim +light, their voices grew lower, and they were content to whisper each +other's names, and fall into sweet silences, thrilled with such soft +stir, as angels in their cloud-girt wayfarings know, when they "feel the +breath of kindred plumes." And thus, + + "_The tumult of the time disconsolate, + To inarticulate murmurs died away._" + + + + +OTHER BOOKS BY MRS. BARR + + + JAN VEDDER'S WIFE + + THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON + + REMEMBER THE ALAMO + + FRIEND OLIVIA + + A ROSE OF A HUNDRED LEAVES + + THE LION'S WHELP + + THE BLACK SHILLING + + THE BELLE OF BOWLING GREEN + + CECILIA'S LOVERS + + THE HEART OF JESSY LAURIE + + THE STRAWBERRY HANDKERCHIEF + + THE HANDS OF COMPULSION + + THE HOUSE ON CHERRY STREET + + ETC. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A RECONSTRUCTED MARRIAGE*** + + +******* This file should be named 36490-8.txt or 36490-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/6/4/9/36490 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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P. Nikolaki</h1> +<pre> +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: A Reconstructed Marriage</p> +<p>Author: Amelia Edith Huddleston Barr</p> +<p>Release Date: June 21, 2011 [eBook #36490]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A RECONSTRUCTED MARRIAGE***</p> +<p> </p> +<h4>E-text prepared by Katherine Ward, Mary Meehan,<br /> + and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (<a href="http://www.pgdp.net">http://www.pgdp.net</a>)<br /> + from page images generously made available by<br /> + Internet Archive/American Libraries<br /> + (<a href="http://www.archive.org/details/americana">http://www.archive.org/details/americana</a>)</h4> +<p> </p> +<table border="0" style="background-color: #ccccff;margin: 0 auto;" cellpadding="10"> + <tr> + <td valign="top"> + Note: + </td> + <td> + Images of the original pages are available through + Internet Archive/American Libraries. See + <a href="http://www.archive.org/details/reconstructedmarr00barriala"> + http://www.archive.org/details/reconstructedmarr00barriala</a> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> + +<div class="figleft"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<div class="figright"> +<img src="images/tp.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<h1>A RECONSTRUCTED MARRIAGE</h1> + +<h2>BY AMELIA E. BARR</h2> + +<h3>FRONTISPIECE BY<br /> +Z. P. NIKOLAKI</h3> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h3>NEW YORK<br /> +DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY<br /> +1910</h3> + +<h3>Copyright, 1910, by<br /> +DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY</h3> + +<h3><i>Published, October, 1910</i></h3> + +<h3>THE QUINN & BODEN CO. PRESS<br /> +RAHWAY, N.J.</h3> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + + +<h3>TO<br /> +MY DEAR FRIEND<br /> +MRS. HARRY LEE<br /> +THIS BOOK<br /> +IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED</h3> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/front.jpg" alt=""/> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + +<!-- Autogenerated TOC. Modify or delete as required. --> +<p> +<a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I <span class="smcap">A Prospective Mother-in-Law</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II <span class="smcap">Preparing for the Bride</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III <span class="smcap">The Bride's Homecoming</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV <span class="smcap">Foes in the Household</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V <span class="smcap">Bad at Best</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI <span class="smcap">The Naming of the Child</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII <span class="smcap">The New Christina</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII <span class="smcap">A Runaway Bride</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX <span class="smcap">The Last Straw</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X <span class="smcap">Theodora Makes a New Life</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI <span class="smcap">Christina and Isabel</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII <span class="smcap">Robert Campbell Goes Wooing</span></a><br /> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII <span class="smcap">The Reconstructed Marriage</span></a><br /><br /> +<a href="#OTHER_BOOKS_BY_MRS_BARR">OTHER BOOKS BY MRS. BARR</a><br /> +</p> +<!-- End Autogenerated TOC. --> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>A RECONSTRUCTED MARRIAGE</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<h3>A PROSPECTIVE MOTHER-IN-LAW</h3> + + +<p>As it was Saturday morning, Mrs. Traquair Campbell was examining her +weekly accounts and clearing off her week's correspondence; for she +found it necessary to her enjoyment of the Sabbath Day that her mind +should be free from all worldly obligations. This was one of the +inviolable laws of Traquair House, enunciated so frequently and so +positively by its mistress, that it was seldom violated in any way.</p> + +<p>It was therefore with fear and uncertainty that Miss Campbell ventured +to break this rule, and to open softly the door of her mother's room. No +notice was taken of the intruder for a few moments, but her presence +proving disastrous to the total of a line of figures which Mrs. Campbell +was adding, she looked up with visible annoyance and asked:</p> + +<p>"What do you want, Isabel? You are disturbing me very much, and you know +it."</p> + +<p>"I beg pardon, mother, but I think the occasion will excuse me."</p> + +<p>"What is the occasion?"</p> + +<p>"There is something in my brother's room that I feel sure you ought to +see."</p> + +<p>"Could you not have waited until I had finished my work here?"</p> + +<p>"No, mother. It is Saturday, and Robert may be home by an early train. I +think he will, for he is apparently going to England."</p> + +<p>"Going to England, so near the Sabbath? Impossible! What set your +thoughts on that track?"</p> + +<p>"His valise is packed, and directed to Sheffield; but I think he will +stop at a town called Kendal. He may go to Sheffield afterwards, of +course."</p> + +<p>"Kendal! Where is Kendal? I never heard of the place. What do you know +about it?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing at all. But in going over the mail, I noticed that four letters +with the Kendal post-office stamp came to Robert this week. They were +all addressed in the same handwriting—a woman's."</p> + +<p>"Isabel Campbell!"</p> + +<p>"It is the truth, mother."</p> + +<p>"Why did you not name this singular circumstance before?"</p> + +<p>"It was not my affair. Robert would likely have been angry at my +noticing his letters. I have no right to interfere in his life. You +have—if it seems best to do so."</p> + +<p>"Have you told me all?"</p> + +<p>"No, mother."</p> + +<p>"What else?"</p> + +<p>"There is on his dressing table, loosely folded in tissue paper, an +exquisite Bible."</p> + +<p>"Very good. Robert cannot have The Word too exquisitely bound."</p> + +<p>"I do not think Robert intends this copy of the Word for his own use. +No, indeed!"</p> + +<p>"Why should you think different?"</p> + +<p>"It is bound in purple velvet. The corner pieces are of gold, and a +little gold plate on the cover has engraved upon it the word <i>Theodora</i>. +Can you imagine Robert Traquair Campbell using a Bible like that? It +would be remarked by every one in the church. I am sure of it."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Campbell had dropped her pencil and had quite forgotten her +accounts and letters. Her hard, handsome face was flushed with anger, +her tawny-colored eyes full of calculating mischief, as she demanded +with scornful passion:</p> + +<p>"What is your opinion, Isabel?"</p> + +<p>"I can only have one opinion, mother. You know on what occasion a young +man gives such a Bible. I am compelled to believe that Robert is engaged +to marry some woman called Theodora, who lives probably at Kendal."</p> + +<p>"He can not! He shall not! He must marry Jane Dalkeith,—Jane, and no +other woman. I will not permit him to bring a stranger here, and an +Englishwoman is out of all consideration. <i>Theodora, indeed! Theodora!</i>" +and she flung the three words from her with a scorn no language could +transcribe.</p> + +<p>"It is not a Scotch name, mother. I never knew any one called +Theodora."</p> + +<p>"Scotch? the idea! Does it sound like Scotch? No, not a letter of it. +There were never any Theodoras among the Traquairs, or the Campbells, +and I will not have any. Robert will find that out very quickly. Why, +Isabel, Honor is before Love, and Honor compels Robert to marry Jane +Dalkeith. Her father saved Robert's father from utter ruin, and I +believe Jane holds some claim yet upon the Campbell furnaces. It has +always been understood that Robert and Jane would marry, and I am sure +the poor, dear girl loves Robert."</p> + +<p>"I do not believe, mother, that Jane could love any one but herself; and +I feel sure that if the Campbells owed her money, she would have +collected it long ago. Why do you not ask Robert about the money? He +will know if anything is owing."</p> + +<p>"Because Scotch men resent women asking questions about their business. +They will not answer them truly; often they will not answer them at +all."</p> + +<p>"Ask Jane Dalkeith herself."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I will not. When you are as old as I am, you will have learned +to let sleeping dogs lie."</p> + +<p>"Will you go and look at the Bible?"</p> + +<p>"It is not likely I will be so foolish. Surely you do not require to be +told that Robert left it there for that purpose. He has his defence +ready on the supposition that I will ask him about this Theodora. On the +contrary, he shall bring the whole tale to me, beginning and end, and I +shall make the telling of it as difficult and disagreeable as possible."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid I have interfered with your Saturday's duties, mother; but +I thought you ought to know."</p> + +<p>"As mother and mistress I ought to know all that concerns either the +family or Traquair House. I will now finish my examinations and +correspondence. And Isabel, when Robert comes home, ask him no +questions, and give him no hint as to what has been discovered. I am +very angry at him. He ought to have told me about the woman at the very +beginning of the affair; and I should have put a stop to it at once. It +might have been more easily managed then than it will be now."</p> + +<p>"Can you put a stop to it at all, mother?"</p> + +<p>"Can I put a stop to it?" she cried scornfully. "I can, and I will!"</p> + +<p>"Robert is a very determined man."</p> + +<p>"And I am a very positive woman. At the last and the long, in any +dispute, the woman wins."</p> + +<p>"Sometimes the man wins."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense! If he does win now and then, it is always a barren victory. +He loses more than he gains."</p> + +<p>"I don't wish to discourage you, mother, but Robert is gey stubborn, and +I feel sure that in this case he will take his own way, and no other +person's way."</p> + +<p>"I desire you not to contradict me, Isabel." She turned to her papers, +lifted her pencil, and to all appearance was entirely occupied by her +bills and letters. Isabel gave her one strange, inexplicable look ere +she left the room, shutting the door this time without regard to noise +and with something very like temper.</p> + +<p>In the corridor she hesitated, standing with one foot ready to descend +the stairs, but urged by a variety of feelings to take the upward flight +which led to her own and her sister Christina's rooms. At present she +was "out" with Christina, and they had not spoken to each other, when +alone, for three days. But now the pleasure of having something new and +unusual to tell, the desire to talk it over, and perhaps also a modest +little wish to be friends with her sister, who was her chief confidant +and ally, induced her to seek Christina in her room.</p> + +<p>She knocked gently at the door, and Christina said in an imperative +voice, "Come in." She thought it was one of the maids, and Christina +wasted no politeness on any one, unless manifestly to her own interest +or pleasure. But Isabel understood the curt permission was not intended +for her, and, opening the door, went into the room. Christina, who was +reading, lifted her eyes and then dropped them again to the book. For +she was amazed at her sister's visit, and knew not what to say, priority +of birth being in English and Scotch families of some consequence. In +their numerous disagreements Christina had never expected Isabel to make +the first advances towards reconciliation. Almost without exception she +had been the one to apologize, and she had been thinking about ending +their present trouble when Isabel visited her.</p> + +<p>For a few minutes she was undecided, but as Isabel took a comfortable +chair and was evidently going to remain, Christina realized that her +elder sister had made a silent advance, and that she was expected to +speak first. So she laid down her book, and pushing a stool under +Isabel's feet, said in a fretful, worried voice:</p> + +<p>"I am so glad to see you, sister. I have been very unhappy without your +company. You know I have no friend but you. I am sorry I spoke rudely to +you. Forgive me!"</p> + +<p>"Christina, we are the world to each other. No one else seems to care +anything about us, and it is foolish to quarrel."</p> + +<p>"It was my fault, Isabel. I ought to have known you were not wearing my +collar intentionally."</p> + +<p>"Why should I? I have plenty of collars of my own. But we will not go +into explanations. It is better to agree to forget the circumstance."</p> + +<p>"Life is so lonely without you, and our little chats with each other are +the only pleasure I have. I wonder if there is, in all Glasgow, a house +so dull as this house is."</p> + +<p>"It will soon be busy and gay enough. Things are going to be very +different in Traquair House. They may not effect our lives much—it is +too late for that, Christina—but we shall have the fun of watching the +rows there are sure to be with mother. Bring your chair near to me. I +have a great secret to tell you."</p> + +<p>As they sat down together it was impossible to avoid noticing how much +they resembled each other personally. Nature had intended both of them +to be beautiful, but their obtuse, grieved faces had been marred in +early years by the disappointments, sorrows, and tragic mistakes of the +children of long ago; and later by their pathetic acquiescence in their +ill-assorted fates, and the cruel certainty of youth gone forever, +without the knowledge of youth's delights. Isabel was now thirty-three +years old, and Christina twenty-eight, and on their dark faces, and in +their sombre, black eyes, there was a resentful gloom; the shadow of +lives that felt themselves to be blighted beyond the power of any good +fortune to redeem.</p> + +<p>The two sisters had lost hope early, and for this weakness they were +partly excusable, since they had the most crushing and unsympathetic of +mothers. Mrs. Campbell was a woman of iron constitution, iron nerves, +and principles of steel. She was never sick, and she was angry if her +children were sick; she met every trouble with fight, she was +contemptuous to those who wept; she was never weary, but she made life a +burden to all under her sway.</p> + +<p>In another way their father had been still more unfortunate to them. +Intensely vain and arrogant, he had inherited a large business which he +had not had the ability or the intelligence to manage. When he had +nearly ruined it, the generosity of a distant relative—jealous for the +honor of the name—came to the rescue; but he placed over all other +authority a manager who knew what he was doing, and who was amenable to +advice. Then Traquair Campbell, unwilling to acknowledge any superior, +became a semi-invalid; and retired to a seclusion which had no other +duty than the indulgence of his every whim and desire, making his two +daughters the handmaids of his idle, self-centred hours. Year after year +this slavery continued, and their youth, beauty, and education, their +hopes, pleasures, and even their friends, were all demanded in sacrifice +to that dreadful incarnation of Self, who made filial duty his claim on +them. It was scarcely two years since they had been emancipated by his +death, and the terror of the past and the shadow of it was yet over +them.</p> + +<p>Such treatment would have soured even good dispositions, but the nature +of both these girls was as awry by inheritance, as their destiny in +regard to parental influence and environment had been tragically +unfortunate. Only the loftiest or the sweetest of spirits could have +dominated the evil influences by which they were surrounded, and turned +them into healthy and happy ones. And neither Isabel nor Christina knew +the uplifting of a lofty ideal, nor yet the gentle power of the soft +word and the loving smile.</p> + +<p>Sitting close together and moved by the same feelings, their physical +resemblance was remarkable. As before said, Nature had intended them to +be beautiful. Their features were regular, their hair abundant, their +eyes dark and well formed, their figures tall and slender, but they +lacked those small accessories to beauty without which it appears crude +and undeveloped. Their faces were dull and uninteresting for want of +that interior light of the soul and intellect without which "the human +face divine" is not divine—is indeed only flesh and blood. Their +abundant hair was badly cared for, and not becomingly arranged; their +figures, in spite of tight lacing, badly managed and ungracefully +clothed; their eyes, though dark and long-lashed, carried no +illumination and were only expressive of evil or bitter emotions; they +knew not either the languors or the sweet lights of love or pity. Isabel +and Christina had slipped about sick rooms too much; and they had been +too little in the busy world to estimate themselves by comparison with +others, and so find out their deficiencies.</p> + +<p>This morning their likeness to each other was accentuated by the fact +that they were dressed exactly alike in dark brown merino, with a narrow +band of white linen round their throats. Each had fastened the linen +band with a gold brooch of the same pattern, and both wore a small Swiss +watch pinned on her plain, tight waist.</p> + +<p>Isabel reclined in her chair, and as she knew all there was to know at +present, a faint smile of satisfaction was on her face. Christina sat +upright, with an almost childish expression of expectation.</p> + +<p>"What do you know, Isabel?" she asked impatiently. "How, or why, are +things going to be different in Traquair House?"</p> + +<p>"Because there is to be a marriage in the family."</p> + +<p>"A marriage! Is it mother? Old lawyer Galt has been very attentive +lately."</p> + +<p>"No, it is not mother."</p> + +<p>"Then it is Robert?"</p> + +<p>Isabel nodded assent.</p> + +<p>Christina's eyes filled with a dull, angry glow, and there were tears in +her voice, as she cried:</p> + +<p>"If that is so, Isabel, I will leave Traquair House. I will not live +with Jane Dalkeith. She is worse than mother. She would count every +mouthful we ate, and make remarks as nasty as herself."</p> + +<p>"Exactly. That would be Jane's way; but I am led to believe Robert will +never marry Jane Dalkeith."</p> + +<p>"Who then is he going to marry? I never heard of Robert paying attention +to any girl."</p> + +<p>"I have found out the person he is paying attention to."</p> + +<p>"Who is it, Isabel? Tell me. I will never mention the circumstance."</p> + +<p>"Her name is Theodora."</p> + +<p>"What a queer name—Miss Theodora. Do you know, it sounds like a +Christian name; it surely can not be a surname."</p> + +<p>"You are right. I do not know her surname."</p> + +<p>"How did you find it out—I mean Robert's love affair?"</p> + +<p>Isabel described the discovery of the velvet-bound Bible while Christina +listened with greedy interest. "You know, Christina," she added, "that a +young man on his engagement always gives the girl a Bible."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know; even servant girls get a Bible when they are engaged. Our +Maggie and Kitty did; they showed them to me. Do the men swear their +love and promises on them?"</p> + +<p>"I should not wonder. If so, a great many are soon forsworn!"</p> + +<p>"Is that all you know, Isabel?"</p> + +<p>"Four times this week she has written to Robert. I saw the letters in +the mail."</p> + +<p>"Love letters, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"No doubt of it."</p> + +<p>"How immodest! Do you know where she lives?"</p> + +<p>"At a town called Kendal."</p> + +<p>"I never heard of the place. Is it near Motherwell? Robert often goes to +Motherwell."</p> + +<p>"It is in England."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Isabel, you frighten me! An Englishwoman! Whatever will mother say? +How could Robert think of such a dreadful thing! What shall we do?"</p> + +<p>"I see no occasion for us either to say or to do. There will be some +grand set-tos between mother and Robert. We may get some amusement out +of them."</p> + +<p>"Mother will insist on Robert giving up the Englishwoman. She will make +him do it."</p> + +<p>"I do not think she will be able. Mind what I say."</p> + +<p>"Robert has been under mother all his life."</p> + +<p>"That is so, but he will make a stand about this Theodora, and mother +will have to give in. He is now master of the works, and you will see +that he will be master of the house also. He will take possession of +himself, and everything else. I fancy we shall all find more changes +than we can imagine."</p> + +<p>"I don't care if we do! Anything for a change. I am almost weary of my +life. Nothing ever happens in it."</p> + +<p>"Plenty will happen soon. Robert has a way of his own, and that will be +seen and heard tell of."</p> + +<p>"He will not dare to counter mother very much. She will talk strict and +positive, and hold her head as high as a hen drinking water. You know +how she talks and acts."</p> + +<p>"I know also how Robert will take her talking. I have seen Robert's way +twice lately."</p> + +<p>"What is his way?"</p> + +<p>"A dour, cold silence, worse than any words—a silence that minds you of +a black frost."</p> + +<p>Having finished her story Isabel looked at her watch, and said: "I'll be +going now, Christina, and you can think over what is coming. We be to +consider ourselves in any change. I am almost sure Robert will be home +to-day at one o'clock, for if I am not mistaken, it will be the +Caledonian Railway Station at three o'clock. That train will land him in +Kendal about eight o'clock, just in time to drink a cup of tea with +Theodora, and have a stroll after it. There is a full moon to-night."</p> + +<p>"How did you find out about Kendal?"</p> + +<p>"Bradshaw; I suppose he knows."</p> + +<p>"Of course, but it will be late Saturday night when Robert arrives, and +surely he will not think of making love so near the Sabbath Day. I would +not believe that of him, however much he likes Theodora."</p> + +<p>"A handsome young Master of Iron Works can make love any day he pleases; +even Scotchwomen would listen gladly to what he had to say. I think I +would myself."</p> + +<p>"I would, but it might be wrong, Isabel."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe it would; anyway I would risk it."</p> + +<p>"So would I; but neither of us will be led into the temptation."</p> + +<p>"I fear not. Now I will be stepping downstairs. I have no more to say at +present and I should not like to miss Robert."</p> + +<p>"We are friends again, Isabel?"</p> + +<p>"We are aye friends, Christina. Whiles, there is a shadow between us, +but it is only a shadow—nothing to it but what a word puts right. There +is the lunch bell."</p> + +<p>"I had no idea it was so late."</p> + +<p>"Let us go down together. I hate the servants to be whispering and +snickering anent our little terrivees."</p> + +<p>They had scarcely seated themselves at the table when Robert entered the +room. He was a typical Scot of his order—tall, blonde, and very erect. +His eyes were his most noticeable feature; they were modern eyes with +that steely point of electric light in them never seen in the older +time. The lids, drawn horizontally over them, spoke for the man's +acuteness and dexterity of mind, and perhaps also for his superior +cunning. He was arrogant in manner, a trait either inherited or assumed +from his mother. In disposition he was kindly disposed to all who had +claims on him, but these claims required to be brought to his notice, +for he did not voluntarily seek after them. He certainly had humanity of +feeling, but of the delicacies and small considerations of life he was +very ignorant.</p> + +<p>As yet he was commonplace, because nothing had happened to him. He had +neither lost money, nor broken down in health, nor been unfairly treated +or unjustly blamed. He had never known the want of money, nor the +necessity for work; he had lost nothing by death and was only beginning +to gain by loving. In the eyes of all who knew him his conduct was +blameless. He was very righteous, and a great stickler for morality and +all respectable conventions; so much so, that even if he should sin, it +would be done with a certain decorum. But spiritually his soul lived in +a lane—the narrow lane of a bigoted Calvinism.</p> + +<p>This morning he was in high spirits, and inclined to be unusually +talkative. But it was not until the meal was nearly over that he said: +"There will be a new preacher in our church to-morrow morning. I am +sorry I shall not be able to hear him. Dr. Robertson says he has a +wonderful gift in expounding the Word."</p> + +<p>"When did you see the doctor?" asked Mrs. Campbell.</p> + +<p>"This morning. He called at my office on a little matter of business."</p> + +<p>"And why will you not hear the new preacher?"</p> + +<p>"I am going to England by the three o'clock train, mother."</p> + +<p>At this answer Isabel looked at Christina, and Mrs. Campbell said: "I +suppose you are going to Sheffield?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I shall go to Sheffield."</p> + +<p>"You go there a great deal."</p> + +<p>"It belongs to my duty to go there."</p> + +<p>With these words he suddenly became—not exactly cross—but reserved and +ungracious. His mother's words had betrayed her. As soon as she remarked +on the frequency of his visits to Sheffield, he knew that she was aware +of the facts that she had positively asserted she would not name, and he +divined her intention to put him in the position of one who confesses a +fault or acknowledges a weakness. He retired immediately into the +fortress of his manly superiority. He was not going to be put to +catechism by a cabal of women, so he hastily finished his lunch and rose +from the table.</p> + +<p>"When will you return, Robert?" asked his mother.</p> + +<p>"In a few days. You had better give liberally to the church collection +to-morrow—paper or gold—silver from you will be remarked on." He +opened the door to these words, and, turning a moment, said "good-bye" +with a glance which included every one in the room.</p> + +<p>Silence followed his exit. Mrs. Campbell cut her veal chop into minute +strips, which she did not intend to eat; Isabel crumbled her bread on +her plate, lifted her scornful eyes a moment, and then began to fold her +napkin; Christina took the opportunity to help herself to another +tartlet. It was an uncomfortable pause, not to be relieved until Mrs. +Campbell chose to speak or rise. She continued the purposeless cutting +of her food, until Isabel's patience was worn out, and she asked: "Shall +I ring the bell, mother?"</p> + +<p>"No, I have not finished my lunch; you can safely bide my time. +Christina, pass me a tart."</p> + +<p>"Take two, mother. McNab makes them smaller every day. There is only a +mouthful in two of them."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Campbell took no notice of the criticism.</p> + +<p>"Isabel," she said, "what do you think of Robert's behavior?"</p> + +<p>"Do you mean the sudden change in his manner?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"He had his own 'because' for it. I do not rightly comprehend what it +could be, unless he suspected from your remark that you had seen the +Bible, and were trying to lure him on to talk of Theodora."</p> + +<p>"That is uncommonly likely, but I'm not caring if he did."</p> + +<p>"Robert is very shrewd, and he sees through people as if they were made +of glass."</p> + +<p>"If he is going to marry the girl, why should he object to tell us about +her? Is she too good to talk about? Such perfect unreasonableness!"</p> + +<p>"He wished to tell us in his own time, and way, and thought a plot had +been laid to force his confidence. Robert Campbell is a very suspicious +man. He has a bad temper too. It is always near at hand, and short as a +cat's hair. And he hates a scene."</p> + +<p>"So do I. Goodness knows, I have always lifted myself above the ordinary +of quarrelling and disputing. Not so, Robert. He investigates the outs +and the ins of everything, and argues and argues about the most trifling +matter; but I must say, he is always in the wrong. And he can keep his +confidence as long as he wants to—the longer the better. I shall never +give him another opportunity."</p> + +<p>"It is a pity you offered him one this morning, mother."</p> + +<p>"I do not require to be reminded, Isabel. The whole affair, as it +stands, is an utterly unspeakable business. We will let it alone until +we have more facts, and more light given us."</p> + +<p>"Just so," answered Isabel.</p> + +<p>"Mother," interrupted Christina, "what do you say about the new preacher +and the collection?"</p> + +<p>"I know nothing about the new preacher. Dr. Robertson has aye got some +wonderfully gifted tongue in his pulpit, and all just to beguile the +silver out o' your purse."</p> + +<p>"Robert said we were not to give silver."</p> + +<p>"You will each of you give a silver crown piece; that, and not a bawbee +over it. As for myself, I am not going to church at all to-morrow. I am +o'erfull of my own thoughts and trouble. God will excuse me, I have no +doubt, for He knows the heart of a wounded mother."</p> + +<p>"Do you know what the collection is for, mother?"</p> + +<p>"The Foreign Missionary Fund. I have always been opposed to Foreign +Missions. The conversion of the heathen is in God's wise foreknowledge, +and He will accomplish it in His own way and time. It is not clear to me +that we have any right to interfere with His plans."</p> + +<p>"The world will come to an end when the heathen are converted," said +Christina. "Dr. Robertson read us prophecies to prove it, and then will +occur the Millennium, and the second coming of——"</p> + +<p>"Hush, Christina!" cried Mrs. Campbell impatiently. "The world is a very +good world, and suits me well enough in spite of Theodora, and the like +of her. I hope the world will not come to an end while I live. As to the +collection, you might each of you, as I said before, give a silver crown +piece. It is enough. Young people are not expected to give +extravagantly."</p> + +<p>"We are not young people, mother."</p> + +<p>"You are not married people. Women without husbands are not supposed to +have money to give away; women with husbands don't often have it either, +poor things!"</p> + +<p>"The greatest of all calamities is to be born a woman," said Isabel, +bitterly.</p> + +<p>"Especially a Scotchwoman," added Mrs. Campbell. "I have heard that in +the United States of America women are very honorably treated. Mrs. +Oliphant, who is from New York, told me a respectable man always +consulted his wife about his business, and his pleasure, and all that +concerns him, 'and in consequence,' she added, 'they are happy and +prosperous.'"</p> + +<p>"I did not know Mrs. Oliphant was an American," said Isabel. "Mr. +Oliphant comes from Inverness."</p> + +<p>"Inverness men are <i>too far north</i> to be fools; and Tom Oliphant soon +found out that his wife's judgment and good sense more than doubled his +working capital. People say, 'Tom Oliphant has been lucky,' and so he +has, because he had intelligence enough to take his wife's advice. But +this is not a profitable or improving conversation, so near the Sabbath. +I will go to my room for an hour or two, girls. I have much to think +about."</p> + +<p>She left them with an air of despondency, but her daughters knew she was +not really unhappy. Some opposition to her supremacy she foresaw, but +the impending struggle interested her. She was not afraid of it nor yet +doubtful of its result.</p> + +<p>"I know my own son, I hope," she whispered to herself, "and as for +Theodora—<i>that</i> for Theodora!" And she snapped her fingers scornfully +and defiantly.</p> + +<p>Isabel and Christina followed their mother, taking the long, broad +stairway with much slower steps. Their dull faces, listless tread, and +monotonous speech were in remarkable contrast to the passionate +eagerness of the elder woman, whose whole body radiated scorn and anger. +As they began the ascent, the clock struck three, and Isabel looked at +Christina, who answered her with a slight movement of the head.</p> + +<p>"He is just leaving the Caledonian Station," she said.</p> + +<p>"For Theodora," replied Christina bitterly.</p> + +<p>"How I hate that name already!"</p> + +<p>"And the girl also, Isabel?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, the girl also. What has she to do in our family? The Campbells can +live without her—fine!"</p> + +<p>"I wonder if Mrs. Robertson will ask us to meet this new minister."</p> + +<p>"I hope not. He will just be one of her 'divinity lads,' with his +license to preach fresh in his pocket. They are all of them poor and +sickeningly young. No man is fit to marry until he is forty years old, +unless you want the discipline of training him."</p> + +<p>"That is some of Mrs. Oliphant's talk, Isabel."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Oliphant knows what she is talking about, Christina."</p> + +<p>"I wonder what you see in that American!"</p> + +<p>"Everything I would like to be—if I dared."</p> + +<p>"Why do you not call on her, then?"</p> + +<p>"Mother does not approve either of her conversation, or her dress, +Christina."</p> + +<p>"Her dress is lovely. I wish I could dress like her."</p> + +<p>"Christina Campbell! Her neck is shockingly uncovered, and her trains +half fill a small room. Mother says her modesty begins at her feet—and +stops there; but she is certainly very clever, and her husband waits on +her like a lover. The men look at him as if they thought him a fool, but +very likely he is the only wise man among them. What are you going to do +this afternoon?"</p> + +<p>"Dress and then unpick the work I did yesterday. It is all wrong."</p> + +<p>"How interesting!"</p> + +<p>"As much so as anything else. I should like to practise a little, but +the piano is closed on Saturdays."</p> + +<p>"That's all right. You always had a knack of playing unsuitable music on +Saturdays."</p> + +<p>"Mother makes two Sundays in a week. It isn't fair."</p> + +<p>By this time they were on the corridor of the floor on which their rooms +were situated, and as they stood at the door of Isabel's room, Christina +said: "At eight o'clock to-night, I wish you would make a remark about +Robert being with Theodora."</p> + +<p>"Make it yourself, Christina."</p> + +<p>"You know mother pays no attention to anything I say. You are the +eldest."</p> + +<p>But at dinner time Mrs. Campbell was in a mood so gloomy, that even +Isabel did not care to remind her of her son's delinquency. She did not +speak during dinner, and when tea was served she rose from the sofa with +a sigh so portentous, it caused the footman to stand still in the middle +of the drawing-room with the little silver kettle steaming in his hand. +She took her own cup with a sigh, and every time she lifted it or put it +down, she sighed deeply. Very soon Isabel began to sigh also, and +Christina ventured timidly to express her feelings in the same miserable +manner. But there was no spoken explanation of these mournful symptoms, +unless they typified disapproval and sorrow beyond the reach of words.</p> + +<p>As they sat thus with their teacups in their hands, a little clock on +the mantel struck eight. Mrs. Campbell cast reproachful eyes upon it. +"It reminds me, Isabel," she sighed; "you said eight o'clock, I think. +My poor son! He is now entering the gates of temptation."</p> + +<p>"I should not worry, mother. Robert is quite able to take care of +himself."</p> + +<p>Judging from the happy alacrity with which Robert left the train at +Kendal Station, Isabel's opinion was well founded. He had no doubts +about the road he was taking. He leaped into a cab, left his valise at +the Crown Inn, and then rode rapidly down the long antique street to a +pretty cottage standing with a church, or chapel, in a green croft +surrounded by poplar trees.</p> + +<p>The moon was full in the east, and the twilight still lingered in the +west, and in that heavenly gloaming a woman walked lightly towards the +little gate to welcome him. She had a tall, elastic, slender figure, and +moved with swift, graceful steps; her white dress, in that shadowy +mysterious light, giving her an ethereal beauty beyond description.</p> + +<p>Robert took both her hands, kissed them passionately, and led her to a +little rustic bench under the poplars. For a few moments they sat there, +and he filled his eyes and heart with her loveliness. Then they went +into the cottage and he found—as Isabel had predicted—that tea was +waiting for him. Theodora's mother, a woman of scrupulous neatness, +simple and unadorned, was sitting at the table; she smiled and gave him +her hand, and he sat down beside her.</p> + +<p>"How is Mr. Newton?" asked Robert.</p> + +<p>"He is in his study," she answered. "He will be here in a few minutes. +He does not wish us to wait for him."</p> + +<p>Theodora was at Robert's right hand, and never before had he thought her +beauty so bewildering. It had the magic of a countenance where the +intellect was of a high order, and the perfect features were the +portrait of a pure, translucent soul such as God loves. Her eyes +transfigured her, but the process was not intentional. Her sensitive +lips, her bright soft smile, her joyful heart, the fulness of her health +and life, all these things were entrancing, and made still more so, by +an unconsciousness sincere and natural as that of a bird, or a flower. +Robert Campbell might well feel his unworthiness, and tremble lest so +great a blessing should escape him.</p> + +<p>In a short time Mr. Newton entered. He had a tall, intellectual figure, +with the stoop forward and piercing glance of one straining after things +invisible. A singular unearthliness pervaded the whole man, and his +spare form appeared to be the suitable apparel for a pure and exalted +spirit. Prayer was his native air. He prayed even in his dreams.</p> + +<p>After some inquiries about the journey, the conversation turned +naturally to the subject of preaching. Robert Campbell remarked that, +"Sunday newspapers, Sunday magazines, and above all Sunday trips down +the river, had in Glasgow greatly injured Sabbath observance and +weakened the influence of the pulpit."</p> + +<p>"No, no, sir!" cried the preacher; "books, papers, amusements, nothing, +can take the place of sermons. The <i>face to face</i> element is +indispensable. It is <i>the Word made Flesh</i> that prevails. As soon as a +real preacher appears, what crowds follow him! Not to go back to the +preachers of old, consider only Farrar, Liddon, Spurgeon, Hyacinthe, +Lacordaire, and the great American Beecher. Think of Spurgeon for thirty +years preaching twice every Sunday to six thousand souls!"</p> + +<p>"Then you believe, sir, the influence of the pulpit depends on the +preacher?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. If there is a good intelligent man in the pulpit, there will be +good intelligent men in the pews."</p> + +<p>"Then you would have only highly-cultured, up-to-date men in the +pulpit?"</p> + +<p>"I would not have men in the pulpit whom no one would think of listening +to, out of the pulpit. The people want sermons that bring the pulpit +near to the hearth, the table, and the counter; sermons of homely +fertility, local allusions, and personal application, such as Christ +gave them. Remember for a moment His everyday similes and parables: the +lighting of a candle, the seeking of a piece of lost silver, the search +for the lost sheep. That is one kind of sermon that always draws +hearers. There is another kind that is irresistible to a very large +number—sermons full of the spirit of Paul, reaching out to the Heavenly +Church with its invisible rites and the splendor and music in the soul +of the saints."</p> + +<p>There was a silence, for the preacher was pursuing his thoughts, leaning +forward with a burning look, drinking in the joy of his own spiritual +vision.</p> + +<p>Robert broke the pause by saying: "We Scots are used to logical and +argumentative discourses," but he spoke in a much lower tone than was +usual to him.</p> + +<p>"Then your preachers must talk to their congregations in the pulpit, as +they never would think of talking to them out of it."</p> + +<p>"Well, we are not in favor of mingling sacred and material things; we +believe it might have a tendency to bring preaching into contempt."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Campbell," said Newton, "preaching is a great example of the +survival of the fittest. If it could have been killed by contempt, or +inefficiency, or ignorance, or too much book learning, or by any other +cause, the imbecile sermons preached every Sunday through the length and +breadth of the land would have killed it long ago."</p> + +<p>"Do you then consider oratorical power a necessity to preaching, sir?"</p> + +<p>"No. Other power can take its place, such as great piety, great +sincerity, the simplicity of the Gospel, or the personal character of +the preacher. I once heard Newman preach. He was far from what we are +accustomed to call eloquent. One long sentence was followed by another +equally long, separated by a sharp fracture like the utterance of a +primitive saint or martyr; but also like a direct message from heaven. +And never, while I live, shall I forget the ecstasy of love and longing +with which he cried out: 'Oh that I knew where to find Him! that I might +come into His presence!' The church of St. Mary was crowded with young +men, and I believe the heart of every one present burned within him, and +he longed as I did, to fall down and kiss the feet of Christ."</p> + +<p>Conversation akin to this sweetened the simple meal, and after it Robert +and Theodora walked up and down the pretty lane running past the Chapel +Croft. It had a hedge of sweet-briar which perfumed the warm, still air, +and the full moon made everything beautiful, and Theodora loveliest of +all. And though it was near the Sabbath, Robert did not hold his +sisters' creed regarding love-making at that time. He could no more help +telling Theodora how beautiful she was, and how he loved her +excellencies and her beauty, than he could help breathing.</p> + +<p>It was no new tale. He had told it to her ever since they first met. But +this night he felt he must venture all, to win all. The light on her +face, the sweet gentleness of her voice, the touch of her hand on his +arm, all these things urged him to ask that question, which if asked +from the heart, is never forgotten. Theodora answered it with a shy but +loving honesty. The little word which made all things sure was softly +spoken, and then the purple Bible was given, and clasping it between +their hands, they made over it their solemnly happy promises of eternal +love and faithfulness. And what conversation followed is not to be +written down; it was every word of it in the delicious, stumbling patois +of love.</p> + +<p>The next morning Robert went to the Methodist Chapel with Theodora, but +his Calvinism was in no degree prejudiced by the Arminian sermon, for he +did not hear a word of it. He was listening to the tale of love in his +heart, Theodora sat at his side, and he would not have changed places +with the king on his throne. Love had thrown the gates of life wide open +for the Queen of Love to enter in, and for the first time in all his +thirty years of existence, he knew what it was to be joyful.</p> + +<p>He left Kendal on Monday afternoon and went to Sheffield, and did much +profitable business there. And he was so gay and good-natured that many +thought they had misjudged him on former occasions, and that after all +he was really a fine fellow. Others wondered if he had been drinking, +and no one but a woman, the wife of one of his business friends with +whom he dined, had the wit to see, and to say:</p> + +<p>"The man is in love, and the girl has accepted him—poor thing!"</p> + +<p>"Why 'poor thing,' Louise?"</p> + +<p>"Because he will get out of love some day, and then——"</p> + +<p>"Then, what?"</p> + +<p>"He will be the old Robert Campbell, a little older, a little more +selfish, a little more sure of his own infallibility, and a great deal +worse-tempered."</p> + +<p>"That will depend on the girl, Louise."</p> + +<p>"And on circumstances! Generally speaking, women may write themselves +circumstances' 'most obedient servants.' They can't help it."</p> + +<p>In spite, however, of the disagreeable journey between Sheffield and +Glasgow, Campbell reached home in very good spirits. It was then four +o'clock in the afternoon, and he resolved to sleep a couple of hours +before seeing any one. He thought after dinner would be as good a time +as any for the communication he had to make to his family. Something of +a blusterer among men, he feared the woman he called mother. His sisters +he had never taken seriously, but he remembered they would come close to +Theodora, and that it might be prudent to have their good will. They +certainly could make things unpleasant if they wished to do so.</p> + +<p>He had always been able to sleep, on his own order to sleep, and was +proud of the circumstance; but this afternoon he had somehow lost this +control. Sleep would not obey his demand, yet he lay still, because he +had resolved to spend two hours in bed; nevertheless he rose unrested, +and decidedly anxious.</p> + +<p>Dinner was served at seven, and he entered the dining-room precisely at +that hour. His place was prepared for him, but the women knew better +than to fret him with exclamations, or with inquiries of any kind. He +was permitted to take his chair as silently as if he had never missed a +meal with them. And though this behavior was in exact accord with his +own desires, it did not suit him that night. He had seen a different +kind of family life at the Newtons', and no man is so self-reliant as to +find kind inquiries effusive and tiresome, if the kindness and interest +is lavished on himself.</p> + +<p>He was, however, good-tempered enough to praise the dinner, and to say +"Scotch broth and good Scotch collops were pleasant changes from the +roast beef of old England, her Yorkshire pudding and cherry pies." Mrs. +Campbell smiled graciously at this compliment, and answered:</p> + +<p>"I consider collops, Robert, as the most nutritive and delicious of all +the ways in which beef is cooked. I attribute my good health to eating +them so regularly, and though Jepson is constantly complaining of +McNab's extravagance and ill-temper, I always say, 'I don't care, +Jepson, what faults McNab has, she can cook collops.' Very few can make +a good dish of collops, so I think I am right."</p> + +<p>"Tell Jepson I say he is to let McNab alone. How did you like Dr. +Robertson's last <i>protégé</i>?"</p> + +<p>"I did not go to church. I was not well. The girls were there."</p> + +<p>"What is your opinion, Isabel?"</p> + +<p>"That he is very like the lave of the doctor's wonderfuls. Mrs. +Robertson told us, he had astonished his college by the tenderness of +his conscience and his spirituality; and when I asked her the +particulars, she said he had utterly refused to study the Latin Grammar +because it contained nothing spiritual. Greek and Hebrew, of course, for +they were necessary to a right reading of the Scriptures; but the Latin +Grammar had no spiritual relations with literature of any kind—far from +it. From what he had been told it was both idolatrous and immoral in its +outcome. I suppose he is from Argyle, for when there was talk of +expelling him for not conforming to rules, he wrote to the Duke, and the +great Duke stood by the lad, and complimented him on his tender +conscience, and the like, and took him under his own protection—and so +on. Mrs. Robertson is of the opinion, he may come to be the Moderator of +the Assembly with such backing."</p> + +<p>"And what do you think?"</p> + +<p>"I would not wonder if he did. He has the conceit for anything, and he +is a black Celt, and very likely has their covetous eye and greedy +heart. He will get on, no doubt of it. Why not? The great Duke at his +back, and himself always pushing to the front."</p> + +<p>"I thought he was nice-looking," said Christina timidly. "His fine black +eyes were fairly ablaze when he was preaching."</p> + +<p>"He is a ferocious Calvinist," added Isabel.</p> + +<p>"Well, he had fine eyes and was good-looking," persisted Christina.</p> + +<p>"Good looks are nothing, Christina," said Robert severely. "Beauty is +not a moral quality."</p> + +<p>"People who are good-looking get on in this world. I notice that. I wish +I was bonnie."</p> + +<p>"You are well enough, Christina," said Mrs. Campbell. "If you cannot +talk more sensibly, keep quiet."</p> + +<p>Christina with a wronged, grieved look subsided, and Mrs. Robertson's +reception for the conscientious youth, under the Argyle protection, +furnished the conversation until the cloth was drawn, and the ladies had +trifled awhile with their walnuts and raisins. Then Campbell rose, drank +the glass of wine that had been standing before him, and said:</p> + +<p>"I am going to the library to smoke half-an-hour. Then, mother, you and +the girls will join me there. I have something important to tell you."</p> + +<p>He did not wait for an answer, and his mother was furious at the +request. "Did you notice his tone, Isabel?" she inquired. "His words +sounded more like a command than a request. It is adding insult to +injury to summon me to his room—for nobody goes to the library but +himself—to hear the thing he has to tell. I shall go to my own room, +and he can come there and tell me his important news."</p> + +<p>"Mother, why not send for him to return here in half-an-hour?"</p> + +<p>This proposal was acceptable, and in half-an-hour Jepson was sent with +"Mrs. Campbell's compliments, and she hopes Mr. Campbell will return to +the dining-room, as she feels unable to bear the smell of tobacco +to-night."</p> + +<p>Mr. Campbell uttered two words in a low voice which sounded like +"Confound it!" but he bid Jepson tell Mrs. Campbell "he would return to +the dining-room immediately." Upon hearing which, Mrs. Campbell took a +reclining position on the sofa, and on her face there was the satisfied, +close-mouthed smile of one who compliments herself on winning the first +move.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<h3>PREPARING FOR THE BRIDE</h3> + + +<p>Campbell returned to the dining-room pleasantly enough. He placed his +chair at his mother's side, and asked: "Are you feeling ill, mother?"</p> + +<p>"Rather, Robert, and the library is objectionable to me, since you began +to smoke there. In fact, I have long been prejudiced against the room, +for your father had a trick of sending for me to come there, whenever he +was compelled to tell me of some misfortune. Consequently, I have +associated the library with calamity, and I did not wish to hear your +important news there."</p> + +<p>"Calamity? No, no! My news is altogether happy and delightful. Mother, I +am going to be married in October, to the loveliest woman in the world, +and she is as good and clever as she is beautiful."</p> + +<p>"Married! May I ask after the lady's name?"</p> + +<p>"Theodora Newton. Her father is the Methodist preacher at Kendal, a town +in Westmoreland."</p> + +<p>"England?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"She is an Englishwoman?"</p> + +<p>"Of course!"</p> + +<p>"I might have known it. I never knew a Scotchwoman called Theodora."</p> + +<p>"It is a good name and suits her to perfection. Her father belongs to +the Northumberland Newtons, a fine old family."</p> + +<p>"It may be. I never heard of them. You say he is a Methodist preacher?"</p> + +<p>"A remarkable preacher. I heard him last Sunday."</p> + +<p>"Robert Campbell! Have you fairly forgotten yourself? Methodists are +Arminians, and Arminians I hold in utter abomination, as every good +Calvinist should."</p> + +<p>"I know nothing about such subjects. This generation, mother, is getting +hold of more tolerant ideas. But it makes no matter to me what creed +Theodora believes in. I should love her just the same even if she were a +Roman Catholic."</p> + +<p>"A man in love, Robert, suffers from a temporary collapse o' good sense. +But when I hear you say things like that, I think you are mad entirely."</p> + +<p>"No, mother. I never was so happy in all my five senses as I am now. The +world was never so beautiful, and life never so desirable, as since I +loved Theodora."</p> + +<p>"Doubtless you think she is a nonsuch, but I call your case one of +lamentable self-pleasing. To the lures of what you consider a beautiful +woman, you are sacrificing your noblest feelings and traditions. Don't +deceive yourself. Was there not in all Scotland a girl of your own race +and faith, good enough for you to marry?"</p> + +<p>"I never saw one I wanted to marry."</p> + +<p>"I might mention Jane Dalkeith."</p> + +<p>"You need not. I would not marry Jane if she was the only woman in the +world!"</p> + +<p>"You prefer above all others an Englishwoman and a Methodist?"</p> + +<p>"Decidedly."</p> + +<p>"You have made up your mind to marry this doubly objectionable woman?"</p> + +<p>"Positively, some time next October."</p> + +<p>"And what is to become of me, and your sisters?"</p> + +<p>"That is what I wish to understand."</p> + +<p>"I have my dower-house in Saltcoats, but it is small and uncomfortable. +If I go there, I shall have to leave the Kirk I have sat in for +thirty-seven years, the minister who is dear and profitable to me, all +the friends I have in the world, and the numerous——"</p> + +<p>"Mother, I wish you to do none of these things. This house is large +enough for us all. The south half, which you now occupy, you can retain +for yourself and my sisters. I shall refurnish, as Theodora desires, the +northern half, and if you will continue the management of the house and +table, we can all surely eat in our present dining-room. There will only +be one more to cater for, and I will allow liberally for that in the +weekly sum for your expenditure. Theodora is no housekeeper and does not +pretend to be. She is immensely clever and intellectual, and has been a +professor in a large Methodist College for girls."</p> + +<p>"You will be a speculation to all who know you."</p> + +<p>"I am not caring a penny piece. They can speculate all they choose to. I +shall meanwhile be extremely indifferent. I have come at last, mother, +to understand that in a great love there is great happiness. The whole +soul can take shelter there."</p> + +<p>"The soul takes shelter in nothing and in no one related to this earth. +That is some of last Sabbath's teaching, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"Yes," he answered. "I was at Theodora's side all last Sunday and I +learned this lesson in the sweetest way imaginable."</p> + +<p>"I wish you to talk modestly before your sisters, and I do not like to +hear the Sabbath called Sunday."</p> + +<p>Robert laughed and answered: "Well, mother, we have so little sunshine +in Scotland, we really cannot speak of any day as Sunday."</p> + +<p>"You may laugh, Robert, but such things are related to spiritual +ordinances, and are not joking matters."</p> + +<p>"You are right, mother. Let us get back to business. Will you accept my +proposal, or do you prefer to go to your own home?"</p> + +<p>"I have been used to consider this house my own home, for thirty-seven +years, and if I leave it, I wonder what kind of housekeeping will go on +in it, with a college woman to superintend things? You would be left to +the servant lasses, and their doings and not-doings would be enough to +turn my hair gray."</p> + +<p>"Then, mother, you will stay here, as I propose?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot do my duty, and leave."</p> + +<p>"I thank you, mother." Then, turning to his sisters, he said: "I hope +you are satisfied, girls."</p> + +<p>"There is no other course for us," answered Isabel. "We must stay where +mother stays. It would be unkind to leave her now—when you are +practically leaving her."</p> + +<p>"I hope Theodora will be nice," said Christina. "If she is, we may be +happy."</p> + +<p>"Do your best, Christina, to make all pleasant, and you will please me +very much," said Robert. "And, Isabel, I am not leaving any of you. +Marriage will not alter me in regard to my relationship to mother, +yourself, and Christina. I promise you that."</p> + +<p>"If you intend to make many alterations in the house, you will have to +see about them at once," said Mrs. Campbell.</p> + +<p>"To-morrow I shall send men to remove all the old furniture from the +rooms I intend to decorate."</p> + +<p>"To remove it! Where to?"</p> + +<p>"To Bailey's auction rooms."</p> + +<p>"Robert Campbell! Your poor, dear father's rooms, and he not gone two +years yet!"</p> + +<p>"To-morrow will be nine days short of the two years. Do you wish his +rooms to remain untouched for nine days longer, mother?"</p> + +<p>"It is no matter. Let his lounge, and his chair and his bagatelle board +go—let all go! The dead, as well as the living, must make way for +Theodora."</p> + +<p>"And, mother, as the hall will be entirely changed, and there will be +much traffic through it, you had better remove early in the morning +those huge glass cases of impaled insects and butterflies. If you wish +to keep them, take them to your rooms; if not, let them go to Bailey's."</p> + +<p>"They may as well go with the rest. Your father valued them highly in +this life, but——"</p> + +<p>"They are the most lugubrious, sorrowful objects. They make me shudder. +How could any one imagine they were ornamental?"</p> + +<p>"Your father thought them to be very curious and instructive, and they +cost a great deal of money."</p> + +<p>"If during the night you remember any changes you would like to make, we +can discuss them in the morning," said Robert.</p> + +<p>He went out gaily, and as he closed the door, began to sing:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"<i>My love is like a red, red rose,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>That's newly blown in June;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>My Love is like a melody,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>That's sweetly played in tune.</i>"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Then the library shut in the singer and the song, and all was silence.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Campbell did not speak, and Isabel looked at her with a kind of +contemptuous pity. She thought her mother had but lamely defended her +position, and was sure she could have done it more effectively. +Christina was simply interested. There was really something going to +happen, and as far as she could see, the change in the house would +bring other changes still more important. She was satisfied, and she +looked at her silent mother and sister impatiently. Why did they not say +something?</p> + +<p>At length Mrs. Campbell rose from the sofa, and began to walk slowly up +and down the room, and with motion came speech.</p> + +<p>"I think, Isabel," she said, "I signified my opinions and desires +plainly enough to your brother."</p> + +<p>"You spoke with your usual wisdom and clearness, mother."</p> + +<p>"Do you think Robert understood that I consider this house my house, and +that I intend to be mistress in it? Why, girls, your father made me +mistress here more than thirty-seven years ago. That ought to be enough +for Robert."</p> + +<p>"Robert is now in father's place," said Christina.</p> + +<p>"Robert cannot take from me what your father gave me. This house is +morally mine, and always will be, while I choose to urge my claim. I am +not going to be put to the wall by two lovesick fools. No, indeed!"</p> + +<p>"I think Robert showed himself very wise for his own—and Theodora's +interests; and he would refute your moral claim, I assure you, mother, +without one qualm of conscience."</p> + +<p>"Refute me! He might as well try to refute the Bass rock. A mother is +irrefutable, Isabel! But his conduct will necessitate us all using a +deal of diplomacy. You do not require to be told why, or how, at the +present time. I have a forecasting mind, and I can see how things are +going to happen, but just now, we must keep a calm sound in all our +observes, for the man is in the burning fever of an uncontrollable love, +and clean off his reason—on the subject of that Englishwoman, he is mad +entirely."</p> + +<p>"I wonder what Dr. Robertson, and the Kirk, and people in general, will +say?"</p> + +<p>"What they will say to our faces is untelling, Isabel; what they will +say when we are not bodily present, it is easy to surmise. Every one +will consider Robert Campbell totally beyond his senses. He is. That +creature in a place called Kendal, has bewitched him. As you well know, +the prime and notable quality of Robert Campbell was, that he could make +money, and especially save money. He always, in this respect, reminded +me of his grandfather, whom every one called 'Old Economy.' Now, what is +he doing? Squandering money on every hand! Expensive journeys for the +sole end of love-making, expensive presents no doubt, half of Traquair +House redecorated and refurnished, wedding expenses coming on, honeymoon +expenses; goodness only knows what else will be emptying the purse. And +for whom? An Englishwoman, a Methodist, a poor school-teacher. She will +neither be to hold nor to bind in her own expenses; for coming to +Traquair House will be to her like entering a superior state of +existence, and she won't know how to carry herself in it. We may take +that to be a certainty. But I think I can teach her! Yes, I think I can +teach her!"</p> + +<p>"How will you do it, mother?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot exactly specify now. She will give me the points, and +opportunities; and correcting, and advising, come most effectively from +the passing events of daily life. As I said, she will give me plenty of +occasions or I'm no judge of women—especially brides."</p> + +<p>"You might be flustered if you were in a hurry and unprepared, mother, +and miss points of advantage, or get more than you gave, but if you had +a plan thought out——"</p> + +<p>"No, no, Isabel! I have lived long enough to learn the wisdom of +building my wall with the stones I find at the foot of it."</p> + +<p>"Many a sore heart the poor thing will get!" said Christina, with an air +of mock pity.</p> + +<p>"We cannot say too much or go too far, while Robert is as daft in love +as he is at present," continued Mrs. Campbell. "We must be cautious, and +that is the good way—the bit-by-bitness is what tells; now a look, now +a word, now a hint, there a suspicion, there a worriment, there a +hesitation or a doubt. It is the bit-by-bitness tells! This is a +forgetful world, so I mention this fact again. And remember also, that +men are the most uncertain part of creation. I have known Robert +Campbell thirty years and I have just found him out. He is a curious +creature, is Robert. He thinks himself steady as the hills, but in +reality he is just as unstable as water. Good-night, girls! We will go +for our sleep now, though I'm doubting if we get any."</p> + +<p>"Theodora won't keep <i>me</i> awake," said Christina. Isabel did not speak +then, but as they stood a moment at their bedroom doors, she said: +"Mother is not to be trifled with. She is going to make Theodora trouble +enough. I'm telling you."</p> + +<p>"I don't care if she does! Anything for a change. Good-night!"</p> + +<p>"Good-night! I do not expect to sleep."</p> + +<p>"Perfect nonsense! Why should you keep awake for a woman in Kendal? Shut +your eyes and forget her. Or dream that she brings you a husband."</p> + +<p>"I'll do no such thing. That's a likely story!" and the two doors shut +softly to the denial, and Christina's low laugh at it.</p> + +<p>When the three women came down to breakfast in the morning, they found a +dozen men at work dismantling the hall and the rooms on the north side +of the house. The glass cases of insects and butterflies, and the +old-fashioned engravings of Sir Robert Peel, Lord Derby, the Duke of +Wellington, and Queen Victoria's marriage ceremony were just leaving the +house. Mrs. Campbell, walking in her most stately manner, approached the +foreman and began to give him some orders. He listened impatiently a few +moments, and then answered with small courtesy:</p> + +<p>"I have my written directions, ma'am, from the master, and I shall +follow them to the letter. There is no use in you bothering and +interfering," and with the last word on his lips, he turned from her to +address some of his workmen.</p> + +<p>She looked at him in utter amazement and speechless anger; then with an +apparent haughty indifference, turned into the breakfast-room bringing +the word "interfering" with her, and flavoring every remark she made +with it. She was in a white heat of passion, and really felt herself to +have been insulted beyond all pacification. Isabel had been a little in +advance, and had not seen and heard the affront, but she was in thorough +sympathy with her mother. Christina was differently affected. The idea +of a workman telling her mother not to interfere in her own house was so +flagrantly impudent, that it was to Christina flagrantly funny. Every +time Mrs. Campbell imitated the man, she felt that she must give way, +and at length the strain was uncontrollable, and she burst into a +screaming passion of laughter.</p> + +<p>"Forgive me, mother!" she said as soon as speech was possible. "That +man's impertinence to you has made me hysterical, for I never saw you +treated so disrespectfully before. I was very nervous when I rose this +morning."</p> + +<p>"You must conquer such absurd feelings, Christina. Observe your sister +and myself. We should be ashamed to exhibit such a total collapse of +will power."</p> + +<p>"Excuse me, mother. I will go to my room until I feel better."</p> + +<p>"Very well, Christina. You had better take a drink of water. Remember, +you must learn to meet annoyance like a sensible woman."</p> + +<p>"I will, mother."</p> + +<p>But after breakfast when Isabel came to her, she went off into peals of +laughter again, burying her face in the pillows, and only lifting it to +ejaculate: "It was too delicious, Isabel—too deliciously funny for +anything! If you had seen that man stare mother in the face—and tell +her not to interfere! I wondered how he dared, but I admired him for it; +he was a big, handsome fellow. Oh, how I wished I was like him! What +privileges men do have?"</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to call it a privilege to tell mother not to interfere?"</p> + +<p>"Many a time I would like to have done it; yes, many a time. I know it +is wicked, but mother does interfere too much. It is her specialty!" and +Christina appeared ready for another fit of laughter.</p> + +<p>"If you laugh any more, Christina, I shall feel it my duty to throw cold +water in your face. Mother told me to do so."</p> + +<p>"Such advice comes from her interfering temper. That handsome fellow was +right."</p> + +<p>"Behave yourself, Christina. What is the matter with you?"</p> + +<p>"It is the change, Isabel. To see lots of men in the hall, and that +heavy black furniture and the poor beetles and butterflies, and the +great men's pictures going away——"</p> + +<p>"Can't you speak correctly? Are you sick?"</p> + +<p>"I must be!"</p> + +<p>"Go back to bed, and I will get mother to give you a sleeping powder."</p> + +<p>"That will be better than cold water. If you could only have seen +mother's face, Isabel, when that man told her not to interfere. As for +him, he had a wink in his eyes, I know. I hope I shall never see him +again. If I do——"</p> + +<p>"I trust you will behave decently, as Christina Campbell ought to do."</p> + +<p>"If he winks, I shall laugh. I know I shall."</p> + +<p>"Then you ought to be ashamed of yourself!"</p> + +<p>"I am, but what good does that do?"</p> + +<p>"See here, Christina, there are going to be many changes in this house, +and if you intend to meet them with this idiotic laughter, what pleasure +can you expect? Be sensible, Christina."</p> + +<p>Poor Christina! The keenest of all her faculties was her sense of the +ridiculous. On this side of her nature, her intellect could have been +highly developed, but instead it had been ruthlessly depressed and +ignored. The comic page of the newspapers, the only page she cared for, +was generally removed; she could tell a funny story delightfully, but no +one smiled if she did so; she saw the comical attributes of every one, +and everything, but it was a grave misdemeanor to point them out; and +thus snubbed and chided for the one thing she could do, she feared to +attempt others which she knew only in a mediocre manner.</p> + +<p>At the dinner table she was able to take her place in a placid, sensible +mood. She found the family deep in the discussion of an immediate +removal to the seashore. It was at any rate about the usual time of +their summer migration, and Robert was advising his mother to go to the +Isle of Arran. But Mrs. Campbell had resolved to go to Campbelton, where +she had many relations. "We can stay at the <i>Argyle Arms</i>," she said, +"and then neither the Lairds nor the Crawfords will have the face to be +dropping in for a few days' change, at my expense."</p> + +<p>Christina looked distressed, and touched Isabel's foot to excite her to +rebellion. "Mother," said Isabel dolorously, "Christina and I hate +Campbelton! It smells of whiskey and fish, and not even the great sea +winds can make the place clean and sweet."</p> + +<p>"It makes me ill," ventured Christina.</p> + +<p>"My family have lived there for generations, Christina, and it never +made them ill. They are, indeed, very robust and healthy."</p> + +<p>"There is nothing to see, mother."</p> + +<p>"I am ashamed of you, Christina. It is a town of the greatest antiquity, +and was, as you ought to know, the capital of the Dalriadan kingdom in +the sixth and seventh century."</p> + +<p>"I know all about its antiquities, mother. I wish I didn't."</p> + +<p>"Christina, what is the matter with you to-day?"</p> + +<p>"I am tired of living, mother."</p> + +<p>"Robert, do you hear your sister?"</p> + +<p>"Why are you tired of living, Christina?" asked Robert, not unkindly.</p> + +<p>"We do not live, brother; that is the reason."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Life is variety. To us every day is the same, except the Sabbath, and +that is the worst day of all. I don't blame you, brother, for a +desperate effort to change your life. If I were a man I should run +away."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by a desperate effort, Christina?"</p> + +<p>"I mean marriage. Sometimes I feel that I would run away with any man +that would marry me."</p> + +<p>"<i>Hush!</i> Such a feeling is shameful. What do you wish instead of +Campbelton?"</p> + +<p>The courage of the desperate possessed Christina and she answered: "I +should like to travel. I want to see Edinburgh and London and Paris like +other girls whose families have money, and Isabel feels as badly at our +restrictions as I do."</p> + +<p>"What do you say, mother? Will you go with the girls to Edinburgh and +London? Paris is out of the question. I will pay all expenses."</p> + +<p>"I will do nothing of the kind. I am going to Campbelton. I suppose the +girls can go by themselves."</p> + +<p>"You know better, mother."</p> + +<p>"English girls go all over the world by themselves, and some kinds of +Scotch girls are beginning to think mothers an unnecessary institution."</p> + +<p>Robert looked at Isabel, and she said: "We might have a courier. I mean +a lady courier."</p> + +<p>"I will not permit my daughters to go stravaging round the world with +any strange woman. Robert, I think you have behaved most imprudently to +propose any such thing."</p> + +<p>"In <i>your</i> company, mother, was my suggestion. I do think an entire +change of people and surroundings would do both you and my sisters a +great deal of good."</p> + +<p>"Changes are plentiful; too many are now in progress."</p> + +<p>So the subject died in bad temper, and Robert felt his proffered +kindness to have been very ungraciously received. But when he rose from +the table, Christina touched his arm as he passed her chair. "Thank you, +brother," she said. "You wished to give us a little pleasure. It is not +your fault we are deprived of it."</p> + +<p>He saw that her eyes were full of tears, and her weary, plaintive voice +touched his heart, so he turned to his mother and said:</p> + +<p>"Think of what I have proposed. I will not stint you in expenses. Give +the girls and yourself a little pleasure—do."</p> + +<p>"Your own expenses are going to be tremendous, Robert, furnishing, +travelling and what not. I can't conscientiously increase them."</p> + +<p>At these words Christina left the room. Robert did not answer his +mother's remark, but he looked at Isabel, and she understood the look as +entrusting the further prosecution of the subject to her.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Campbell, however, refused to give up Campbelton. "I heard," she +said, "that Mrs. Walter Galbraith was going to France and Italy. +Perhaps she will allow you to travel with her."</p> + +<p>Isabel looked at her mother with something like reproach. "You know +well, mother, that Mrs. Galbraith dresses and travels in the most +extravagant fashion. She would not be seen with two old maids in plain +brown merino suits. We should look like her servants. Even if we got +stylish travelling gowns, we should want dinner dresses, and opera +dresses, and cloaks and changes, and small necessities innumerable. It +would cost a thousand pounds, if not more, to clothe us both for a three +months' travel with Mrs. Galbraith."</p> + +<p>"Then be sensible women and go to Campbelton. You can take your wheels +and on the firm sands of Macrihanish Bay have a five miles' unbroken +spin. There are boating and fishing and very interesting walks."</p> + +<p>"And Christina will find company for her wheel and walks, mother. The +last time we were in Campbelton, the schoolmaster, James Rathey, was +constantly with her. He was in love, and Christina liked him. After we +came home he wrote to her, and I had hard work to prevent her answering +his letters."</p> + +<p>"You ought to have told me this before."</p> + +<p>"I was sorry for her. Poor girl, he was the only lover she ever had!"</p> + +<p>"Such folly! I shall watch the schoolmaster myself this summer. I have +influence enough to get him dismissed. He shall not teach in Campbelton +another year."</p> + +<p>"Oh, mother, how cruel and unjust that would be! I am sorry I told you." +And Isabel felt the case to be hopeless, and did not make another plea.</p> + +<p>She went straight to her sister's room. "Mother is not to be moved, +Christina," she said. "We shall have to go to Campbelton."</p> + +<p>"So be it. Jamie Rathey will be having his vacation now, and he can play +the fiddle and sing '<i>The Laird o' Cockpen</i>' worth listening to. He +promised to buy a wheel before I came again, and then we will away to +Macrihanish sands for a race. I won't be cheated out of that pleasure, +Isabel, and you need not say a word about it."</p> + +<p>"You cannot hide it. Every one but mother knew about you and James +Rathey last year, and Aunt Laird would have told mother, but I begged +her not. If you begin that foolishness again, I must attend to the +matter."</p> + +<p>"You mean you will tell mother?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, decidedly."</p> + +<p>"Then you will be an ill-natured sister."</p> + +<p>A little later Mrs. Campbell appeared and told them to pack their +trunks, and lock up the clothing they did not intend to take with them. +"The paperers and painters are coming into the house to-morrow morning," +she said. "We shall take the boat for Campbelton directly after an early +breakfast."</p> + +<p>As neither Isabel nor Christina made any protest, she added: "You may +go at once and buy yourselves a couple of suits, one for church, and a +white one that will be easily laundered. I suppose hats, gloves, shoes, +and some other things will be necessary. You can each of you spend forty +pounds. This is a gift, I shall not take it from your allowance."</p> + +<p>"I cannot see through mother," observed Christina as they were on their +shopping expedition.</p> + +<p>"Can you see through anything, Christina? I cannot."</p> + +<p>"She had a great fit of the liberalities this morning. What for?"</p> + +<p>"She was buying us. One way or another, she has us all under her feet."</p> + +<p>"Poor Theodora!"</p> + +<p>"Keep your pity for poor Christina. If Theodora has been a +schoolmistress she knows fine how to hold her own."</p> + +<p>"With schoolgirls—perhaps. Mother is different."</p> + +<p>"The difference is not worth counting. Women, old and young, are very +much alike."</p> + +<p>"Do you believe the paperers and painters begin work to-morrow?"</p> + +<p>"Mother said so. It is one of her virtues to tell the truth. You know +how often she declares she would not lie even to the devil."</p> + +<p>"Yes—but was that the truth?"</p> + +<p>"It is not right to criticise and question what your mother says, +Christina."</p> + +<p>In the morning the arrival of a number of men with pails, and brushes, +and paint-pots, justified Mrs. Campbell's assertion, and the three women +were glad to escape the dirt, noise, and confusion in Traquair House, +even for the <i>Argyle Arms</i> in Campbelton. Robert went with them to the +boat, and Isabel's pathetic acceptance of what she disliked, and the +tears in Christina's eyes made him a little unhappy. He slipped some +gold into their hands, as he bid them good-bye, and their silent looks +of pleasure at his remembrance, soothed the uncertain sense of some +unkindness or unfairness which had troubled him since Christina's +rebellious outbreak. He was glad he had gone with them to the boat, and +glad that he had given them a parting token of his brotherly care, and +he felt that he could now turn cheerfully to his own pressing but +delightful affairs.</p> + +<p>He was singularly happy in them, and really glad to be rid of all advice +and interference. Men who had known him for many years, wondered at his +boyish joyfulness. He was a different Robert Campbell, but then it was +generally known he was in love, and all the world loves a lover. No one +was cruel or malicious enough to warn, or advise, or shadow the glory of +his expectations by any doubt of their full accomplishment. The +initiated gossiped among themselves, and some said: "Campbell is a fool +to be making such a fuss about any woman;" and others spoke of Mrs. +Traquair Campbell, and "wondered how the English girl would manage her."</p> + +<p>"The poor lassie will be at her mercy," said one old man.</p> + +<p>"She will," answered his companion, "for the Traquair Campbells' ways +will be dark to a stranger. It takes a Scotchwoman to match a +Scotchwoman."</p> + +<p>"Yet I have heard that the old lady is a wonder o' good sense and +prudence. Her husband was a useless body, but she managed him fine, and +was one o' those women that are a crown to their husbands."</p> + +<p>The first speaker laughed peculiarly. "Man, David!" he said, "little you +ken, if you take King Solomon's ideas of a comfortable wife to live wi'. +The women who are a crown to a poor man are generally a crown o' thorns, +I'm thinking."</p> + +<p>But no doubts or fears troubled Robert Campbell. He thought only of his +marvellous fortune in winning a woman so lovely and so good. He was not +unmindful of either her intellect or her education, but he did not talk +of these excellencies, even to his chief friend Archie St. Claire. He +had a feeling that intellect and learning were masculine attributes, and +he preferred to dwell entirely on the sweet feminine virtues of his +beloved. But this, or that, there was no other woman in the world but +Theodora to Robert Campbell, for lovers are selfish creatures, and Lord +Beaconsfield says truly: "To a man in love, all other women are +uninteresting, if not repulsive."</p> + +<p>So the days and the weeks went happily past, in preparing a home for +Theodora. He went over and over very frequently the last few words—"a +home for Theodora!" and they sung, and swung, and shone in his heart, +and made his life a fairy story. "I never knew what it was to be happy +before," he said repeatedly; and it was the truth, for up to this time +he had never felt the joy of that mystical blending of two souls, when +self is lost and found again in the being of another.</p> + +<p>Twice he took a trip to Campbelton, and found all to his satisfaction. +His mother was surrounded by her kindred, a situation a Scotch man or +woman tolerates with an equanimity that is astonishing; and Isabel and +Christina wore their usual air of placid indifference to everything. +They were all desirous to know what had been done in the house, but he +refused to enter into explanations. "It is ill praising or banning +half-done work," he said in excuse, "but I promise on my next visit to +take you home with me, and then you will see the work finished."</p> + +<p>"And then you will go and get married?" asked Christina, and he answered +with a smile, "Then I shall go and get married."</p> + +<p>"When you bring Theodora home she will give us a little pleasure, I +hope."</p> + +<p>"I am sure she will. Theodora is fond of company and entertainments, and +she will wish you to share them with us, and that will add to my +pleasure also."</p> + +<p>"We shall see."</p> + +<p>"Do you doubt what I say?"</p> + +<p>"My dreams never come true, Robert."</p> + +<p>"Theodora will make them come true."</p> + +<p>Then Christina laughed a little, and Isabel looked at her mother's dour, +scornful face and copied it.</p> + +<p>Robert noticed the expression, and he asked pleasantly: "What kind of +summer have you had, Isabel?"</p> + +<p>"Exactly the summer we expected. Sometimes the minister called, and +talked in an exciting manner about Calvinism, and the smallpox; and we +have been surrounded by a crowd of relatives. Mother has enjoyed them +very much; she had not seen some of her fourth and fifth cousins for +nearly seven years; they had increased in number considerably during +that interval, and their names, and dispositions, the sicknesses they +had been through, the various talents they showed, have all been to talk +over a great many times. Oh, mother has enjoyed it much! It makes no +matter about Christina and myself."</p> + +<p>"It does make matter, Isabel. This coming winter I intend to see you go +out as much as you desire."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, brother. Christina will enjoy the opportunities. I have +outlived the desire for amusements. I would rather travel, and see +places and famous things. People no longer interest me."</p> + +<p>"I think with a little inquiry that can be managed. I am so happy, +Isabel, I wish every one else to be happy."</p> + +<p>She looked at her brother wonderingly, and at night as the sisters sat +doing their hair in Christina's room she said: "Love must be an amazing +thing, Christina, to change any one the way it has changed Robert +Campbell. The man has been in a sense converted—he has found grace, +whether it be the grace of God, or the grace of Love, I know not, no, +nor anybody else just yet."</p> + +<p>"St. John says, 'God is love.' I have often wondered about those words."</p> + +<p>"Then keep your wonder. If you ask for explanations about things, all +the wonder and the beauty goes out of them. When I was at school, and +had to pull a rose to pieces and write down all the Latin names of its +structure, its beauty was gone. The rose was explained to us, but it +wasn't a rose any longer. God is Love. We will thank St. John for +telling us that beautiful truth, but we will not ask for explanations. +Maybe you may find out some day all that Love means. You are not too +old, and would be handsome if you were dressed becomingly, and were +happy."</p> + +<p>"Happy?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Happiness makes people beautiful. Look at Robert. He was rather +good-looking before he was in love, he is now a very handsome man. +Theodora has worked wonders in his appearance."</p> + +<p>"He takes more pains with his dress."</p> + +<p>"That helps, of course."</p> + +<p>"My hair is very good yet, Isabel."</p> + +<p>"You have splendid hair, and fine eyes. Properly dressed you would not +look over twenty-two years old."</p> + +<p>"You think so, because you love me a little."</p> + +<p>"I love you better than I love anything else. We have suffered a great +deal together. I do not mean afflictions and big troubles, but a +lifelong, never-lifted repression and depression, and a perfect +starvation of heart and soul."</p> + +<p>"Not soul, Isabel. We could always go to the Kirk, and we had our Bible +and good books, and the like."</p> + +<p>"It was all dead comfort. There was no life, no love in it."</p> + +<p>"Maybe it was our fault, perhaps we ought to have stood up for our +rights. Girls have begun to do so now."</p> + +<p>"We may be to blame, who knows? Good-night."</p> + +<p>Three weeks after this conversation, Robert came to Campbelton for his +mother and sisters. He was in the same glad mood, and what was still +more remarkable, patient and cheerful with all the small worries and +explanations and contradictory directions of Mrs. Campbell. She was +carrying back to Glasgow two Skye terriers, a tortoise-shell cat, +presents of kippered herring and cheeses, and, above all, a tiny +marmoset monkey given her by a third cousin, who was master of a sailing +vessel trading to South American ports. She was immoderately fond and +proud of this gift, and no one but Robert was allowed to carry the +basket in which it was cradled in soft wool.</p> + +<p>But encumbered on every hand and charged continually about this, that, +and the other, Robert kept his temper better than his sisters; and at +length, with the help of two or three vehicles, brought all safely to +Traquair House. Now, if Mrs. Campbell had thus loaded and impeded +herself and her whole family for the very purpose of making their entry +into the renovated home a scene of confusion, in which it was impossible +to observe things, she could not have succeeded better. Christina, +indeed, uttered an exclamation of delight, but the great interest of all +parties was to get rid of their various impediments. Each of the girls +had a Skye terrier, Mrs. Campbell had the cat, Robert the marmoset, and +there were bundles, bonnet boxes, parcels, umbrellas, parasols, rugs, +etc., all to be carried in, counted, and checked off Mrs. Campbell's +list of her belongings.</p> + +<p>But in an hour the confusion had settled, and by the time the travellers +had removed their hats and wraps and washed and dressed, a good dinner +was on the table. It put every one in a more agreeable temper, and when +they had eaten it, there was still light enough to examine the changes +that had been made. Mrs. Campbell declared she was tired, but she could +not resist the offer of Robert's arm and the way in which he said: +"Come, mother, I shall not be happy without your approval; I never knew +you to be tired with any day's work, no matter how it might tire +others."</p> + +<p>The compliment won her. She rose instantly, and leaning on her son's arm +passed into the hall. It had been dark and gloomy, though fairly +handsome. It was now finished in the palest shades, was light and airy +and looked much larger. Where the cases of impaled beetles and crucified +butterflies had stood, there were pots of ferns and flowers, and the +special furniture necessary was of light woods and modern designs. All +the rooms leading from this hall were richly and elegantly furnished; +the same idea of lightness and gracefulness being admirably carried out. +Nothing had been forgotten, even the most trivial toilet articles were +present in their most beautiful form. Isabel lifted some of these, and +asked: "How did you know about such things, Robert?"</p> + +<p>"I did not know, Isabel," he answered, "but I went to a place where such +things are sold, and told them to fit a lady's toilet perfectly, with +all that ladies use and desire. Theodora may not like the perfumes; +indeed, I do not think she uses perfume of any kind, but they can be +sent back, or changed."</p> + +<p>"Well, Robert," said Mrs. Campbell, when all apartments had been +examined, "these rooms are fit for a queen, and many a poor queen never +had anything half so splendid and comfortable. Theodora will be +confounded by their richness and beauty. I should say she never saw +anything like them."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, you are mistaken, mother. I met her first at John Priestley's, +Member of Parliament for Sheffield, where she was the guest of his +daughter, and in their mansion the rooms are much handsomer than +anything we have here. Theodora has been a guest in some of the finest +manor houses in England. These rooms are quite modest compared with some +she has occupied."</p> + +<p>"I think, then, she will be too fine for this family. But Robert, I can +not, and I will not, change my ways at my time of life. I may be plain +and common—perhaps—I may be vulgar in Theodora's eyes, but——"</p> + +<p>"My dear mother, you are all a woman and a mother should be. You +represent the finest ladies of your generation. Theodora is the fruit +and flower of a later one, different, but no better than your own. You +are everything I want. I would not have you changed in any respect." He +looked into her face with eyes full of love, and gently pressed her arm +against his side.</p> + +<p>Such appreciative words as these were most unusual, and Mrs. Campbell +felt them thrill her heart with pleasure. She even half-resolved to try +to like Robert's wife, and spoke enthusiastically about the taste her +son had displayed. In the morning she was still more delighted, for then +she discovered that her own drawing-room had been redecorated, a new +light carpet laid, and many beautiful pieces of furniture added to +brighten its usual gloom. Nor had Isabel's and Christina's rooms been +forgotten; in many ways they had been beautified, and only the family +dining-room had been left in the gloom of its dark, though handsome +furniture. But Robert hoped by the following summer his mother would be +willing to have it totally changed, for he remembered hearing Theodora +say that the room in which people eat ought to be, above all other rooms +in the house, bright, and light, and cheerful. Indeed, she thought it a +matter of well-being to eat under the happiest circumstances possible.</p> + +<p>In the height of the women's delight and gratitude, Robert set off on +his wedding journey. His joy infected the whole house. Even the cross +McNab and the mournful Jepson were heard laughing, and Christina spoke +of this as among the wonderfuls of her existence. Perhaps the one most +pleased was Mrs. Campbell. She had been surrounded by the same +depressing furniture and upholstery for thirty-seven years, and she had +almost a childish pleasure in the new white lace curtains which had been +hung in her rooms. They gave her a sense of youth, of something +unusually happy and hopeful. Many times in a day, she went, unknown to +any one, into the drawing-room and took the fine lace drapery in her +fingers, to examine and admire its beauty. The girls also were more +cheerful. Indeed, the tone of the house had been uplifted and changed, +and all through the influence of more light, some graceful modern +furniture, and a little—alas, that it was so little!—good will and +gratitude.</p> + +<p>On the fifth of October Robert Campbell was married, and about a week +afterwards, Archie St. Claire called one evening upon his family.</p> + +<p>"I have just returned from Kendal," he said, "and I thought you would +like to hear about the wedding. You were none of you there."</p> + +<p>"We had satisfactory reasons for not going," answered Mrs. Campbell.</p> + +<p>"I was Robert's best man."</p> + +<p>"I supposed so. Robert said very little about his arrangements. What do +you think of the bride?"</p> + +<p>"She is a most beautiful woman, fine-natured and sweet-tempered, and +loved by all who come near her. Robert has found a jewel."</p> + +<p>"How was she dressed?" asked Isabel.</p> + +<p>"Perfectly. White satin and lace, of course, but what I liked was the +simplicity of the gown. I heard some one call it a Princess shape. It +fit her beautiful form without a crease, and fell in long soft folds to +her white shoes."</p> + +<p>"White shoes? Nonsense!" ejaculated Mrs. Campbell.</p> + +<p>"White shoes with diamond buckles."</p> + +<p>"Paste buckles more likely."</p> + +<p>"They looked like diamonds. Her veil fell backward and touched the +bottom of her dress."</p> + +<p>"Backward! Then of what use was it? I thought brides wore a veil to +cover their faces."</p> + +<p>"It would have been a sin and a shame to have covered her face. She +looked like an angel. She wore no jewels, and she carried instead of +flowers a small Bible bound in purple velvet and gold."</p> + +<p>"Were there many present?"</p> + +<p>"The streets were crowded, and the church was crowded. The Blue Coat +Boys—a large old school in Kendal—scattered flowers before her as she +walked from the church gates to the altar; and the old rector who had +married her father and mother was quite affected by the ceremony. He +kissed and blessed her at the altar-rail, after it was over."</p> + +<p>"Kissed Robert Campbell's bride. Surely you are joking, Mr. St. +Claire."</p> + +<p>"No, it is a common thing in English churches after the bridal ceremony +if the minister is a friend. It was a solemn and affecting sight."</p> + +<p>"Then her father did not marry her?"</p> + +<p>"He gave her away. He could not have performed the ceremony in the +parish church."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean that she was not married in her father's church?"</p> + +<p>"She was married in the parish church, one of the most beautiful places +of worship I was ever in—a grand old edifice."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean that my son was married in an Episcopal church, at the very +horns of an Episcopal altar?" asked Mrs. Campbell indignantly.</p> + +<p>"It was the most beautiful marriage service I ever saw. And the sweet +old bells chimed so joyously, I can never forget them."</p> + +<p>"Was there a wedding breakfast?" asked Isabel.</p> + +<p>"About twenty guests sat down to a very prettily decorated breakfast +table, and after the meal, Robert and his bride began their journey +through life together. I have brought you some bride cake," and he took +from a box in his hand three smaller white boxes, tied with white +ribbon, and presented them. Mrs. Campbell laid hers unopened on the +table without a word of thanks or courtesy, and Isabel and Christina +followed her example.</p> + +<p>"There was a crowd at the railway station," continued Mr. St. Claire, +"and the Blue Coat Boys met the bride singing a wedding-hymn. Robert +gave them a noble check for their school."</p> + +<p>"I'll warrant he did. The more fool he!"</p> + +<p>"And the last thing they heard as they left Kendal must have been the +church bells chiming joyfully—'<i>Hail, Happy Morn</i>'!"</p> + +<p>"Do you know where they went? Robert was not sure when he left +Scotland."</p> + +<p>"I think I do, Mrs. Campbell. They had intended going through the Fife +towns, and by old St. Andrews to Wick, and so to the Orkneys and +Shetlands. But it was late in the season for this trip, so they went to +Paris and the Mediterranean. I think they were right."</p> + +<p>"Paris, of course. All the fools go there!"</p> + +<p>"Well, Mrs. Campbell, Scotland is a bleak place for a honeymoon."</p> + +<p>"Mr. St. Claire, if it does for a man's home, it may do to honeymoon in. +That is my opinion."</p> + +<p>"I don't agree with you, Mrs. Campbell. A honeymoon is a sort of +transcendental existence, and a man naturally wants to spend it as +nearly in Paradise as possible. There's no place like the Mediterranean +for sunshine, and it is poetical and picturesque, and just the place for +lovers."</p> + +<p>Failing, with all his willing good nature, to rouse any apparent +interest in a subject he considered highly interesting, he felt a little +offended, and rose to depart. But ere he reached the parlor door he +turned and said: "I had nearly forgotten one very remarkable thing about +the bride."</p> + +<p>"Let us hear it, by all means," said Mrs. Campbell.</p> + +<p>"I stayed a few days after the marriage, in order to visit Windermere +and Keswick Lake with Mr. Newton—by-the-by, wonderfully beautiful +spots, nothing like them in Scotland—and one day while waiting in his +study, I picked up a book. Imagine my astonishment, when I saw it had +been written by the bride."</p> + +<p>At this information Mrs. Campbell threw up her hands with a laugh that +terminated in something like a shriek. Isabel laid her hand on her +mother's arm, and asked: "Are you ill, mother?"</p> + +<p>"No," she answered promptly. "I am only like Mr. St. Claire, astonished. +I need not have been. Every girl scribbles a little now. Poetry, of +course."</p> + +<p>"You mean Mrs. Campbell's book?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"On the contrary, it was a most learned and interesting study of ancient +and sacred geography."</p> + +<p>"A schoolbook!" and the words were scoffed out with utter contempt.</p> + +<p>"Then a most fascinating one. It gave the Latin and Saxon names of our +own old cities, and all the historical and biographical incidents +connected with them. It treated the names in the Bible and ancient +history in the same way. The preacher was very modest about it, but said +it was now in all the best schools, and that his daughter had quite a +good income from the royalty on its sale. And he added: 'Since you have +discovered her secret, I may tell you that she has written two novels, +and a volume of——'"</p> + +<p>"Plays, I dare say."</p> + +<p>"No, ma'am, of Social Essays."</p> + +<p>"Really, Mr. St. Claire, we can stand no more revelations concerning the +bride's perfections! Robert Campbell is only a master of iron workers +and coal miners, and I fear he will feel painfully his inferiority to +such a marvellously beautiful and intellectual woman. As for myself, and +my poor girls, I can only say—grant us patience!"</p> + +<p>St. Claire bowed, and made a hurried exit. "Ill-natured and envious +creatures as ever I met," he mused. "I'm sorry for Mrs. Robert! She will +have troubles great and small with those women under her roof, and I +wonder if Robert will have the gumption to stand by her. He was always +extraordinarily afraid of his mother. I should be afraid of her myself. +I am thankful my mother isn't the least like her! My mother is made of +love and sweet-temper, and she is more of a lady in her winsey skirt and +linen short gown than Mrs. Traquair Campbell is in all her silk and lace +and jewelry. Thank God for His mercies! The Book says a good wife is +from the Lord. I know, by personal experience, that a good mother is +even more so. I'll just write mother a letter this very night, and tell +her all about the wedding. She will enjoy every word of it, and at the +end say: 'God bless the young things! With His blessing they'll do weel +enough, whatever comes.'"</p> + +<p>There was no blessing in Mrs. Campbell's heart. She looked at her girls +in silence until she heard the closing of the front door, then she +asked: "What do you say to Mr. St. Claire's story?" and Isabel answered: +"I say what you said, mother—grant us patience!"</p> + +<p>"Tut, Isabel! Patience? Nonsense! I think little of that grace. Theodora +may be a beauty, a school-teacher, and an authoress, but we three women +can match her."</p> + +<p>"Whatever made Robert marry her?"</p> + +<p>"That is past speculating about! But she is the man's choice—such as it +is. Doubtless he thinks her without a fault, but, as I told you before, +the bit-by-bitness can soon change that opinion—a little mustard seed +of suspicion or difference of any kind, can grow to a great tree. I'm +telling you! Do not forget what I say. I am just distracted as yet with +the situation. This world is a hard place."</p> + +<p>"I think so too, mother," said Christina, "and it is small comfort to be +told the next is probably worse."</p> + +<p>"I have had lots of trouble in my life, girls, but the worst of all +comes with what your father called 'the lad and lass business.' It was +that drove your brother David beyond seas, and I have not heard a word +from him since he went away one day in a passion. But this or that, mind +you, I have always come out of every tribulation victorious—and there +is now three of us—we shall be hard enough to beat."</p> + +<p>"Theodora has a good many points in her favor," said Christina.</p> + +<p>"Count them up, then; count them up! She is a beauty, a genius, an +Englishwoman, a Methodist, a teacher of women, a writer of books, and no +doubt she will try to set up the golden image of her manifold +perfections in Traquair House—but which of us three will bow down +before it? Tell me! Tell me that, Christina!"</p> + +<p>"Not I, mother."</p> + +<p>"Nor I," added Isabel.</p> + +<p>"Nor I, you may take an oath on that," said Mrs. Campbell. "And what +says the Good Book, 'a threefold cord is not easily broken?' Now you may +give me Dr. Chalmer's last sermons, and I'll take a few words from him +to settle my mind and put me to sleep; for I am fairly distracted with +the prospect of such a monumental woman among us. But I'll say nothing +about her, one way or the other, and then I cannot be blamed. I would +advise you both to be equally prudent."</p> + +<p>But Isabel and Christina were not of their mother's mind. Such a +delightful bit of gossip had never before come into their lives, and +they went to Isabel's room to talk it all over again, for Isabel being +the eldest had the largest and the best furnished room. Isabel made a +social event of it, by placing a little table between them, set with the +special dainties she kept for her private refreshment. And they felt it +to be a friendly and cheerful thing, to have this special woman to +season the rich cates and fruit provided. So it had struck twelve before +Christina rose and remarked:</p> + +<p>"You told me, Isabel, there were going to be changes, and you are right. +The next one will be the home-coming, and I dare say Robert will descend +on us in the most unexpected time and way."</p> + +<p>"You are much mistaken, Christina. I am sure Robert will be telegraphing +Jepson from every station on the road. The most trivial things will be +directed by him. Let us go to bed now; I am sleepy."</p> + +<p>"So am I. Thank you for the good things. They sweetened a disagreeable +subject."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps she may be better than we expect. One can never tell what the +unknown may turn out to be. Mother is inclined to be suspicious of all +strangers," said Isabel.</p> + +<p>"If mother's eyes were out, she would see faults in any one."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps, if they were coming into Traquair House. She does not trouble +herself about people who leave the Campbells alone."</p> + +<p>"She spoke of poor brother David to-night. Did you notice it?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"It was the first time I have heard her mention him since he left us."</p> + +<p>"She has spoken of him to me, three or four times—a word or two—no +more."</p> + +<p>"Do you know where he is?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Does mother know?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Does any one know?"</p> + +<p>"No. Mother is sure he is dead. I think so myself. He would have written +to Robert if he was alive. He was gey fond of Robert."</p> + +<p>"I was at school when he went away. I never heard why he went, for when +I came home I was forbidden to name him. Did he do anything wrong?"</p> + +<p>"No, no! You must not suppose such a thing. He was the most loving and +honorable of men."</p> + +<p>"Then why did he go away? Do you know?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I know all about it."</p> + +<p>"Tell me, Isabel. I will never name the subject again. What did he do?"</p> + +<p>"Just what Robert has done—married a girl not wanted in the family."</p> + +<p>"Who was the girl? Why was she not wanted?"</p> + +<p>"Her name was Agnes Symington. She was a minister's daughter."</p> + +<p>"Was she pretty?"</p> + +<p>"Very pretty, and good and sweet as a woman could be."</p> + +<p>"Pretty, and good, and sweet, and a minister's daughter! What more did +mother want?"</p> + +<p>"Money."</p> + +<p>"Was she poor?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Her father was dead, and she had learned dressmaking to support +her mother and herself. She came to make our winter dresses, and David +saw her and loved her. Though she was a minister's daughter, mother had +always sent her to the servants' table, and she was nearly mad to think +David had married a girl from the servants' table. It was +disgraceful—in a way. The servants talked, and so did every one that +knew us. But David loved her, and when he went he took both Agnes and +her mother with him."</p> + +<p>"What did father say?"</p> + +<p>"He took David's part. He took it angrily. He amazed us. He sold David's +share in the works for him, and so let strangers into the company, and +he sent him away with his blessing, and plenty of money. David was +crying when he bid father good-bye; and father was never the same after +David left. We always believed that father knew where he went, and that +he heard from him, through Mr. Oliphant or Dr. Robertson. But mother +could get no words from him about David, except 'The boy did right. God +pity the man whose wife is chosen for him!' I think father had to marry +mother to save the works. I think so; I was not told it as a fact. Do +not breathe a word of what I have told you. It is a dead story. David +and father are both gone, and I dare say David's wife is married again."</p> + +<p>"Thank you for telling me the story, Isabel. I will keep your +confidence. Do not doubt it. I do not blame David. I think he did right. +I wish I could do the same thing. I——"</p> + +<p>"Good-night!"</p> + +<p>"I would run away to-morrow."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<h3>THE BRIDE'S HOME-COMING</h3> + + +<p>Robert Campbell's home-coming was after the fashion Isabel had supposed +it would be. On the eighth of November, Jepson received a telegram from +him before nine in the morning, ordering fires to be kept burning +brightly all day in his rooms. At eleven there was another telegram, +directing Jepson to have the ferns and plants in the hall renewed, and +flowers in vases put in the parlor and Mrs. Campbell's dressing-room. At +two o'clock Jepson's message contained the information that Mr. and Mrs. +Campbell would be at the Caledonian Railway Station at half-past three +o'clock, and they would expect the carriage there for them.</p> + +<p>So when Theodora arrived at Traquair House, she was met by Jepson with +obsequious attentions, the door was wide open to receive her, and the +rooms were shining and glowing with light and warmth and beauty. Thus +far, all her expectations were realized, but she missed the human +welcome which ought to have vitalized its material symbols. Robert was +evidently annoyed at the absence of his mother and sisters, and he asked +sharply after them.</p> + +<p>"They went to their rooms after lunch, sir, before I had time to inform +them of the train you specified," Jepson answered.</p> + +<p>Campbell seemed glad of so reasonable an excuse, and, turning to +Theodora, said: "You must have a cup of tea, dear, and then rest for a +couple of hours. I dare say we shall see no one before dinner. I suppose +dinner is at seven, Jepson?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir. Seven o'clock exactly, sir."</p> + +<p>After her cup of tea Theodora went through their rooms with her husband +and was charmed with everything that had been done for her comfort. +"Robert," she said, "there is nothing wanting in these rooms. Everything +I could desire is here, except the smile and the kind words of welcome +to them from your family."</p> + +<p>"Those will come later, my sweet Dora. The Scotch are slow and +undemonstrative. My mother and sisters always retire to their rooms +after lunch, and it is extremely difficult for them to break a habit. +That is their way."</p> + +<p>"If habits are kind and good, it is a very good way—in its way. But do +you not think, Robert, that a little spontaneity is sometimes a +refreshing and comforting thing?"</p> + +<p>"It may be, but our temperaments are not spontaneous. Now, try and sleep +before you dress. I will come for you at two minutes before seven. Be +sure you are ready! Mother waits for no one, not even myself."</p> + +<p>But in spite of all the thoughtful care which her husband had taken for +her comfort, Theodora was invaded by a feeling of melancholy. Her heart +sank fathoms deep, and she could not follow his advice to sleep. She +felt chilled and depressed by the atmosphere she was breathing—an +atmosphere impregnated with the personalities of people inimical to her. +Being conscious of this hostility, she began to reason about it, a thing +in itself unwise; for happiness should never be analyzed.</p> + +<p>Very soon she became aware of the futility of her thoughts. "They lead +me to no certain end, for I am reasoning from premises unknown to me," +she said to herself. "I have heard of these three women, but I have not +seen them. I will wait until we look at each other face to face."</p> + +<p>Then she called her maid, a fresh, honest-hearted girl from the +Westmoreland fells, whom she had hired in Kendal. "Ducie," she said, +"have you been in the kitchen yet?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, ma'am. They are a queer lot there. Only one old man had a good +word for any of the family. They were asking me if you knew that the +Crawfords of Campbelton had been occupying your rooms for two weeks. +'Plenty of hurrying and scurrying,' they said, 'to get them away and put +the rooms in order, and the old lady beside herself with anger, at Mr. +Campbell not giving a longer notice of his coming.'"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Campbell gave plenty of time, if the rooms had not been occupied."</p> + +<p>"And, if you please, ma'am, the trunks sent here from Kendal just after +your marriage have all been opened, and I may say, ma'am—ransacked. +Every thing in them is pell-mell, and the dresses not folded straight, +and the neckwear and such like, topsy-turvy. And, ma'am, your beautiful +ermine furs have been worn, for they are soiled; other things look +likewise. I don't know what to make of such ways, I'm sure."</p> + +<p>To this information Theodora listened in dismay and anger. It seemed to +her such an incredible outrage on decency, honor, and even honesty. She +rose instantly and went to look at her trunks. Ducie had made a very +moderate complaint. It was only necessary to lift the lids to convince +herself that the accusation was a just one. For a moment or two she +stood looking at the disarranged garments; her face flushed, she locked +her fingers together, and was speechless. Then she sat down to consider +the circumstance, and her lovely face had on it an expression +half-pleading and half-defiant. It was the face of a woman you could +hurt, but could not move.</p> + +<p>In half-an-hour she called Ducie. "Do not touch the four trunks that +were sent here from Kendal," she said. "Open the one we had with us, and +take from it my steel-blue silk costume, and my set of pearls."</p> + +<p>"Will you wear the silk waist, ma'am?"</p> + +<p>"No, the lace waist of the same color. And, Ducie, keep silence +concerning all you see and hear in these rooms. I know you will do so, +but it does no harm to remind you, for you are not used to living among +a crowd of servants, and might fall into some trap set for you. Just +remember, Ducie, that every word you say will likely be repeated, for +we are in a strange country and in a way among strangers."</p> + +<p>"I know, ma'am. New relations are not like old ones. The old ones feel +comfortable like old clothes; the new ones, like new clothes, need a +deal of taking in and letting out to make them fit."</p> + +<p>"That is so, Ducie. I am a little annoyed about the open trunks, +but—but, I must dress now, or I will be late."</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't be annoyed, ma'am, for brooding over annoyances just hatches +more; and I will have little to say to any one. You may trust me. I will +be as good as my word."</p> + +<p>Theodora dressed carefully, and when Robert came for her he was charmed +with the quiet beauty of her costume. "It is just right, Dora," he said, +"perhaps the pearls are a little too much."</p> + +<p>"Oh no, Robert. The dress requires them. They are like moonlight on it, +and make each other lovelier."</p> + +<p>"Come, then, we have not a moment to lose. It will strike seven +immediately."</p> + +<p>They entered the dining-room as it struck the hour. Mrs. Traquair +Campbell had taken her seat at the foot of the table, and Robert with +his bride on his arm walked to her side and said:</p> + +<p>"Mother, this is Theodora. I hope you will give her your love and +welcome."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Campbell did not rise, but, looking into Theodora's face, asked: +"Had you a pleasant journey? Are you tired? Railroads are fatiguing +kind of travel."</p> + +<p>That was all. She did not say one kind word of welcome, nor did she +offer her hand. In fact, she had lifted the carving knife as they +entered the room, and she kept it in her grasp. Then Robert took her to +his sisters, and as Isabel sat on one side of the table, and Christina +on the other, the introduction had to be made three times. In each case +it was about the same, for the girls copied both their mother's attitude +and her words.</p> + +<p>But all were frank and friendly with Robert, asking him many questions +about the places they had visited, and as he invariably referred some +part of these queries to Theodora, she was drawn unavoidably into the +conversation. Very soon the desire to conquer these women by the force +and magnetism of love came into her heart, and she smiled into their +dark, cold faces, and discoursed with such charming grace and social +sympathy, that the frost presently began to thaw, and Isabel found +herself asking the unwelcome bride all kinds of questions about their +travel, and saying at last with a sigh: "How much I should have liked to +have been with you!"</p> + +<p>"I am sorry you were not with us," answered Theodora, "but we shall go +again to the Mediterranean—for we only got glimpses of places and +things, and must know them better. We shall go again, shall we not, +Robert?"</p> + +<p>Then Robert denied all his promises and said: "I fear not, for a long +time. Business must be attended to."</p> + +<p>"I am glad you are regaining your senses, Robert," said his mother. +"Your business has been dreadfully neglected for more than half-a-year."</p> + +<p>"It has taken no harm, mother, and I shall double my attention now."</p> + +<p>"I hope you will—but I doubt it."</p> + +<p>"Dora," said Christina, "may I call you Dora?"</p> + +<p>"Dora, certainly," interrupted Mrs. Traquair Campbell. "Theodora is too +long a name for conversation. Do you wish any more ice? Do you, Isabel?"</p> + +<p>Theodora was confounded by such rude and positive ignoring. The question +had been addressed to her, and referred to her Christian name—the most +personal of all belongings. Yet it had been peremptorily decided for her +without any regard to her right or wish. Her cheeks flushed hotly, and +she looked at her husband. Surely he would spare her the distressing +position of denying her mother-in-law's decision, or affirming her own. +But Robert Campbell was as one that heard not. His eyes were upon his +plate, and he was embarrassed even in the simple act of eating. At that +moment she had almost a contempt for him. But seeing that he did not +intend to interfere, she smiled at Christina, and said:</p> + +<p>"You will call me Dora, I suppose, as you are bid to do so, and when I +feel like it, I shall answer to that name. When I do not feel disposed +to answer to Dora, I shall be silent. That is, you know, my privilege." +She spoke with a smile and charming manner, and then, looking at her +husband, rose from the table. Robert sauntered after her, making some +remark about tea to his mother as he passed her.</p> + +<p>She could not answer him. This leave-taking, unauthorized by her +example, stupefied the elder woman. "Do you see, Isabel," she cried, +"what I shall have to endure?"</p> + +<p>"Dinner was really finished, mother."</p> + +<p>"That makes no difference! No one has a right to leave the table until I +rise. I consider Dora's behavior a piece of impertinence."</p> + +<p>"I do not think she intended it to be impertinent."</p> + +<p>"Her intention makes no difference. No one has a right to leave my table +until I set the example. And if Dora's behavior was not impertinent, +then it was stupid ignorance, and I shall instruct her in the decencies +of respectable life. And I tell you both to remember that her name is +Dora. I will have no Theodoras here. Fancy people going about the house +calling 'The-o-do-ra.' Ridiculous!"</p> + +<p>"Well, mother, I ask leave to say that I should not like any one without +my permission to call me Bell, nor do I believe Christina would care to +be called Kirsty. And I really think Robert's wife wished to be +agreeable, and even friendly, if we had encouraged her. Why not give her +a fair trial? I think she could teach Christina and myself many +things."</p> + +<p>"I think you are bewitched as well as your brother. I never knew you, +Isabel, to make any exceptions to my opinions—or to see me insulted +without feeling a proper indignation with me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear mother, you are mistaken! The day will never come when your +daughter Isabel will not stand shoulder to shoulder with you."</p> + +<p>"I am sure of that. I wish Christina had not asked such an obtrusive +question. I had to answer it as I did, in order to show that woman that +we—in our own home here—would call her just what we preferred to call +her, without let or hindrance; yet I wish that Christina had kept her +foolish question for a little longer. I was hardly ready for active +opposition. It is premature. Christina always interferes at the wrong +moment." So Christina, snubbed and blamed for her malapropos question, +subsided into sullen indifference externally, while inwardly passing on +the blame for her correction to Theodora, who, she decided, was going to +be unlucky to her.</p> + +<p>In the meantime Robert had walked with his wife to the parlor door of +their own apartments, but he did not enter with her. "I am going to +leave you half-an-hour, Dora," he said. "I wish to smoke a cigar in the +library."</p> + +<p>"I should like to go with you, Robert, as I have always done. I enjoy +good tobacco."</p> + +<p>"Walking on some lovely balcony, overlooking the Mediterranean, it was +pleasant; but here it is not the thing. If you went with me, I might +have the whole family, as the library, like the dining-room, is common +ground. Circumstances alter cases, Dora. You know that, my dear! I will +return in half-an-hour."</p> + +<p>She had a slight struggle with herself to answer pleasantly, but that +free and loving thing, the human soul, was in Theodora's case under kind +but positive control, so she replied with a smile:</p> + +<p>"As you wish, dear Robert—yet I shall miss you."</p> + +<p>She was alone in her splendid rooms, and her heart fell. The day had +been a hard one. From the moment they left Kendal, Robert had been +disagreeably silent. He knew that he was going home to a struggle with +his family, and he dreaded the experience. Had it been a struggle with +business difficulties he would have risen bravely to its demands. A +dispute with women irritated him. In his thoughts he called it +"trivial." But had he known all that such a dispute generally involves, +he would have sought out for it the most portentous and distracting word +in all the languages of earth.</p> + +<p>So Theodora left to herself sat down with a sinking heart. The change in +her husband's temper troubled her; the total absence of all human +welcome to her new home troubled her still more. The occupation of her +rooms by strangers, the rifling of her trunks, the half-quarrelsome +dinner, the despotic changing of her name might be—as compared with +death, accident, or ruin—"trivial" troubles, but she was poignantly +wounded in her feelings by them. And their crowning grief was one she +hardly dared to remember—her husband's failure to defend the name he +had so often passionately sworn he loved better than all other names. +True, she had permitted him to call her Dora, but that was a secret, +sacred, pet name, to be used between themselves, and by that very +understanding denied to all others.</p> + +<p>She could not but admit to herself that she was bitterly disappointed in +her home-coming. She had thought Robert's mother and sisters would meet +her on the threshold with kisses and words of welcome. She had yet to +learn the paucity of kisses and tender words in a Scotch household. The +fact is general, but the causes for this familiar repression are +various, and may be either good or evil. Theodora felt them in her case +to be altogether unkind. What could she do about it? There was the +perilous luxury of complaint to her husband and there was her father's +lifelong advice: "Shut up a trouble in your heart, and you will soon +sing over it." Which course should she take? She was waiting for a true +instinct, a clear, lawful perception, when Robert entered the room.</p> + +<p>She looked up with a smile that brought him swiftly to her side, and +when he spoke kindly, all her fearing discontent slipped away. Very soon +their conversation turned naturally to their apartments. Robert was +proud of them, not so much for the money lavished on their adornment, as +for the taste he thought himself to have shown. Going here and there in +them, he happened to find, on a beautiful cabinet, an old curl paper +and a couple of bent hairpins.</p> + +<p>"Look here, Dora," he said, and his voice was so full of displeasure, +that she rose hastily and went to him.</p> + +<p>"What kind of maid have you hired? She ought to know better than to +leave these things in your parlor."</p> + +<p>"And you ought to know better, Robert," was the indignant answer, "than +to suppose these things belong to me. Do I ever put my hair in newspaper +twists? Do I ever fasten it with dirty, rusty, wire pins like these?"</p> + +<p>"Then tell Ducie to keep her pins and curl papers in her own room."</p> + +<p>"They are not Ducie's. She would not put such dreadful things in her +pretty hair."</p> + +<p>"How do they come here, then?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose the people who have been occupying these rooms left them."</p> + +<p>"No one has occupied these rooms since they were redecorated and +refurnished."</p> + +<p>"You are mistaken, Robert. They have been fully occupied for the last +three weeks."</p> + +<p>"Dora, what are you saying?"</p> + +<p>"The truth! Call any of your servants, and they will tell you so."</p> + +<p>Without further words he rang the bell, and Ducie appeared. "Ducie," he +asked, "who told you there had been people staying in these rooms?"</p> + +<p>"The kitchen, sir; that is, the men and women in the kitchen. I was +taken all aback, for my lady had told me——"</p> + +<p>"Do you know who the people were?"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. and Miss Crawford, Mrs. Laird and her granddaughter, Miss +Greenhill."</p> + +<p>"Oh, they were relations, Dora," he said in a voice which indicated they +had a right there, and that he was neither grieved nor astonished at +their invasion of his apartments.</p> + +<p>"If you please, sir," interposed Ducie, "my lady's trunks were all +opened by Mrs. Crawford and the rest. It gave me such a turn!"</p> + +<p>"The rest? Who do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Miss Crawford, Mrs. Laird, and Miss Greenhill."</p> + +<p>"Then give the ladies their proper names."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, Mrs. and Miss Crawford, Mrs. Laird, and Miss Greenhill have +opened and ransacked all the four trunks belonging to my lady, which +were sent on here directly after her marriage. She had given me the keys +of them, and when I saw them open it fairly took my breath away. I am +afraid many things are destroyed, and some things that cost no end of +money stolen. Not liking to be blamed for the same, I wish the matter +looked into."</p> + +<p>"Stolen! You should be careful how you use such a word."</p> + +<p>"Sir, excuse me, but people who open locked trunks, and use and destroy +what is not theirs are just as likely as not to carry off what they +want. My character is in danger, sir. I wish the trunks examined."</p> + +<p>"I suppose you have been through them."</p> + +<p>"No, indeed, sir. When my lady went to her dinner, I called in one of +the kitchen girls. I wanted a witness that I had never touched them."</p> + +<p>"How dare you make such charges, then?"</p> + +<p>"Ask my lady."</p> + +<p>"Dora, is there any truth in this girl's words?"</p> + +<p>"I fear she speaks too truly, Robert. I have only looked cursorily +through one trunk, but I found much fine clothing spoiled, and I fear +some jewelry gone. The ruby and sapphire ring given me by my college +history class as a wedding gift is not in the jewel case it was packed +in, and my turquoise necklace was scattered among my neckwear. It ought +to have been in the jewel box."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you forgot in the hurry of packing where you put it."</p> + +<p>"I was not hurried. Those four trunks were all leisurely and carefully +packed, and the day we left Kendal for Paris——"</p> + +<p>"You mean our wedding-day?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Then why do you avoid saying so!"</p> + +<p>"I do not, but on that same day these four trunks were forwarded here. +If you remember, I only took one trunk on our—wedding journey. I +supposed these four would be quite safe in this house. But look here, +Robert," she continued, lifting a set of valuable ermine furs, "these +were given me by Mrs. Priestley. They were of the most exquisite +purity, but they look now as if they had been dipped in a light solution +of Indian ink."</p> + +<p>"The Glasgow rain," he answered carelessly. "Ducie, I do not think we +shall blame you."</p> + +<p>"Sir, I will take no blame, either about things spoiled, or stolen."</p> + +<p>"There is no question of theft. If the ladies using these rooms for a +day or two——"</p> + +<p>"For three weeks, sir."</p> + +<p>"Used also some clothing found in the rooms——"</p> + +<p>"Not found, sir, I beg pardon, but locked trunks were opened for them, +which the men in the kitchen say is clear burglary—perhaps wishing to +frighten me, sir. But this way, or that way, sir, things have been +ruined that cost no end of money, and when I saw my lady's spoiled gowns +and furs, and broken jewelry, they fairly took my breath away! Yes, sir, +they did."</p> + +<p>"You may go now, Ducie."</p> + +<p>"I cannot and will not be blamed, sir, and I want that fact clear."</p> + +<p>"You may go, now. I have told you that once before. If I have to tell +you again, you can leave the house altogether."</p> + +<p>"Ducie," said Theodora, "I wish you would look after clean linen for the +beds and dressing tables."</p> + +<p>"What is the matter with the linen, Dora?"</p> + +<p>"It is not clean. It looks as if it had been used for two or three +weeks."</p> + +<p>"Are you sure?"</p> + +<p>"Look at it! I can do without many things, Robert, but I cannot do +without clean linen."</p> + +<p>"Of course not! It is awfully provoking. I tried so hard to have +everything spotlessly clean and comfortable, but——" He turned away +with an air of angry disappointment.</p> + +<p>Dora went to his side and praised again all he had done. She said she +would forget all that was spoiled, or broken, or stolen for his sake, +and for sweet love's sake, and she emphasized all her tender words with +kisses and endearing names.</p> + +<p>And she found, as many women find, that the more she renounced her just +displeasure and chagrin the harder it was to conciliate her husband's. +Whether he enjoyed Dora's efforts to comfort him, or was really of that +childish temper which gets more and more injured, as it is more and more +consoled, it was at this stage of her married life impossible for +Theodora to decide. However, in a little while he condescended to +forgive Theodora for the annoyances others had caused him, and said: "It +is later than I thought it. We have forgotten tea."</p> + +<p>"I do not want any."</p> + +<p>"I am going to speak to mother. Shall I send you a cup?"</p> + +<p>"No, thank you. Do not stop long, Robert."</p> + +<p>She went to the window and looked out into the dreary night. A heavy +rain was falling, and not a star was visible in that muffled atmosphere. +Sorrowful feelings pervaded all her thoughts, and she asked her soul +eagerly for some password out of the tangle of small trials, which like +brambles made her path difficult and painful. For the circumstances in +which she so suddenly found herself, confounded and troubled her. Had +Robert deceived her? Had she been deceived in Robert?</p> + +<p>It was, however, a consciousness of having fallen below herself, which +hurt her worst of all. She had made concessions, where concession was +wrong; she had made apologies for her husband, whereas he ought to have +made them to her.</p> + +<p>"I have been weak," she whispered to her Inner Woman, and that truthful +monitor replied:</p> + +<p>"<i>To be weak is to be wicked.</i>"</p> + +<p>"I have resigned my just rights and my just anger."</p> + +<p>"<i>And so have encouraged others to be unjust and unkind, and to sin +against you.</i>"</p> + +<p>"And I have gained nothing by my cowardly self-sacrifice."</p> + +<p>"<i>Nothing but humiliation and suffering, which you deserve.</i>"</p> + +<p>"What can I do?"</p> + +<p>"<i>Retrace your first wrong step, in order to take your first right +step.</i>"</p> + +<p>Ere this mental catechism was finished, Ducie entered the rooms with her +arms full of clean linen, and Theodora said: "I see you have got the +linen, Ducie. Make up my bed first."</p> + +<p>"Got it! Yes, ma'am, after a fight for it. The chambermaid was willing +enough, but madame held the keys, and madame said the beds had been +changed four days ago, and she would not have them changed but once a +week. I refused to go away, and the girl went back to her, and was +ordered to leave the room. Then I went, and told her that whether she +was willing or unwilling I had to have clean linen, as the beds had been +stripped, and Mr. Campbell wanted to go to sleep, and Mrs. Campbell had +a headache. Then she flew into a passion, and I do not think I durst +have stayed in her presence longer, but Mr. Campbell was heard coming, +so she flung the keys to one of the young ladies, and told her to 'see +to it.' Then I had a fresh fight for pillow-cases, and covers for the +dressing tables, and I was told to remember that I would get no more +linen for a week. 'Fresh linen once a week is the rule in this house,' +the young lady said, 'and no rules will be broken for Mrs. Robert. You +can tell her Miss Campbell said so.'"</p> + +<p>"Well, Ducie, we must look out for ourselves. I will buy linen +to-morrow, and then we can change every day in the week, if we want to."</p> + +<p>Robert had been requested not to stay long, but his interview with his +mother proved to be both long and stormy. The old lady had felt the +irritation of the dinner table, and though she herself was wholly to +blame for its quarrelsome atmosphere, she was not influenced by a truth +she chose to ignore. Ever since dinner she had been talking to her +daughters of Theodora, and her smouldering dislike was now a flaming +one. The application for clean linen had made her furious, and she was +scolding about it when Robert entered the room. But he knew before he +opened the door of his mother's parlor what he had to meet, and the +dormant demon of his own temper roused itself for the encounter. He went +into her presence with a face like a thundercloud, and asked angrily:</p> + +<p>"Why did you let any one—I say any one—into my rooms, mother? I think +their occupancy without my permission a scandalous piece of business."</p> + +<p>"Keep your temper, Robert Campbell, for your wife. She will need it, I +warrant."</p> + +<p>"Answer my question, if you please!"</p> + +<p>"Well, then, if it is scandalous to entertain your kindred, it would +have been much more scandalous to have turned them out of the house."</p> + +<p>"Kindred! It is a far cry to call kindred with that Crawford and Laird +crowd. I will not have them here! Take notice of that."</p> + +<p>"They will come here when they come to Glasgow."</p> + +<p>"Then I shall turn them out."</p> + +<p>"Then I shall go out with them."</p> + +<p>"My rooms——"</p> + +<p>"Preserve us! No harm has been done to your rooms."</p> + +<p>"They have been defiled in every way—old curl papers, dirty hairpins, +stains on the carpets and covers. I burn with shame when I think of my +wife seeing their vulgar remains."</p> + +<p>"Your wife? Your wife, indeed! She is——"</p> + +<p>"I don't want your opinion of my wife."</p> + +<p>"You born idiot! What do you want?"</p> + +<p>"I want you to write to the women who opened my wife's trunks, and +ruined her clothing, and stole her jewelry, or I——"</p> + +<p>"Don't you dare to throw '<i>or</i>' at me. I can say '<i>or</i>' as big as you. +What before earth and heaven are you saying!"</p> + +<p>"That my rooms have been entered, my wife's trunks broken open——"</p> + +<p>"You have said that once already! I had the Dalkeiths in my spare rooms. +Was I to turn the Crawfords and the Lairds on to the sidewalk because +your rooms had been refurnished for Dora Newton?"</p> + +<p>"Campbell is my wife's name."</p> + +<p>"I thank God your kindred had the first use of your rooms! You ought to +be glad of the circumstance. And pray, what harm is there in opening a +bride's trunks?"</p> + +<p>"Only burglary."</p> + +<p>"Don't be a tenfold fool. A bride's costumes are always examined by her +women kin and friends. My trunks were all opened by the Campbells before +your father brought me home. Every Scotch bride expects it, and if you +have married a poor, silly English girl, who knows nothing of the ways +and manners of your native country, I am not to blame."</p> + +<p>"Let me tell you——"</p> + +<p>"Let me finish, sir. I wish to say there was nothing in Dora Newton's +trunks worth looking at—home-made gowns, and the like."</p> + +<p>"Yet two of them have been worn and ruined."</p> + +<p>"Jean Crawford and Bell Greenhill wore them a few times. They wanted to +go to the theatre or somewhere, and had not brought evening gowns with +them. I told them to wear some of Dora's things. Why not? She is in the +family now, more's the pity."</p> + +<p>"They had no right to touch them."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure I wish they had not worn them. Jean and Bell are +stylish-looking girls in their own gowns. Dora's made them look dowdy +and common. I was fairly sorry for them."</p> + +<p>"Which of them wore Theodora's ring? That ring must come back—<i>must</i>, I +say. Understand me, mother, it must come back."</p> + +<p>"If it is lost——"</p> + +<p>"It will be a case for the police—sure as death!"</p> + +<p>The oath frightened her. "You have lost your senses, Robert," she cried; +"you are fairly bewitched. And oh, what a miserable woman I am! Both my +lads!" and she covered her face with her handkerchief, and began to sigh +and sob bitterly.</p> + +<p>Then Isabel went to her mother's side, and as she did so said with +scornful anger:</p> + +<p>"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Robert Campbell. You have nearly +broken your mother's heart by your disgraceful marriage. Can you not +make Dora behave decently, and not turn the old home and our poor +simple lives upside down, with all she requires?"</p> + +<p>"Isabel, do you think it was right to put people in the rooms I had +spent so much time and money in furnishing?"</p> + +<p>"Quite right, seeing the people were our own kindred. It was not right +to spend all the time and money you spent on those rooms for a stranger. +You ought to be glad some of your own family got a little pleasure in +them first of all."</p> + +<p>"They did not know how to use them. Both the Crawfords and Lairds are +vulgar, common, and uneducated women. They know nothing of the decencies +of life."</p> + +<p>"That may be true, but they are mother's kin, and blood is thicker than +water. The Crawfords and Lairds are blood-kin; Dora is only water."</p> + +<p>"Theodora is my wife. I see that mother will no longer listen to me. Try +and convince her that I am in earnest. My rooms are <i>my</i> rooms, and no +one comes into them unless they are invited by Theodora or myself. My +wife's clothing and ornaments of all kinds belong to my wife, and not to +the whole family. Write to Jean Crawford, and Bell Greenhill, and tell +them to return all they have taken, or I shall make them do so."</p> + +<p>"I suppose, Robert, they have only borrowed whatever they have. They +often borrow my rings and brooches and even my dresses."</p> + +<p>"Isabel, when people borrow even a ring, without the knowledge and +consent of the owner, the law calls it stealing; and the person who has +so borrowed it, the law calls a thief. I hope you understand me."</p> + +<p>He was leaving the room when his mother sobbed out: "Oh, Robert, +Robert!"</p> + +<p>For a moment he hesitated; then he went to her side and asked: "What is +it you wish, mother?"</p> + +<p>"I did not mean—to hurt you—I was brought up so different. I thought +it would be all right—with you—that you, at least—would understand. I +expected you knew—all about the marriage customs—you are Scotch. Oh, +dear, dear! My poor heart—will break!"</p> + +<p>He touched her hand kindly and answered: "Well, do not cry, mother, I +will say no more about it. Good-night."</p> + +<p>"Good (sob) night (sob), Robert!"</p> + +<p>But as soon as the door closed, the furious woman flung down her +handkerchief in a rage, saying in low, passionate tones: "You see, +girls! When you can't reason with a man, can't touch his brain, you may +try crying about him, for perhaps he has something he calls a heart."</p> + +<p>Returning to his own apartments Robert found that the lights had been +lowered and that Theodora was apparently asleep. He stood looking at her +a few minutes, but decided not to awaken her. She would, he thought, +want to know all that had been said and he was tired of the subject. His +mother's tears had washed all color and vitality out of it. She believed +herself to be right and from her point of view he admitted she was. He +told himself that Theodora did not comprehend the wonderful complexity +of the Scotch character—he must try and teach her. And as for her +destroyed, or lost adornments, they could be replaced. Of course money +would be, as it were, lost in such replacement, but it would be a good +lesson, and lessons of all kinds take money. Thus, by a new road, he had +come back to the usual Campbell appreciation of the Campbells, for +though he was keenly alive to the individual defects of that large +family he was at the same time conscious of their superiority to the +rest of the world.</p> + +<p>In the morning he began to give Theodora the lesson he had himself +absorbed. He told her that it was some of their own relatives who had +occupied the rooms, and then explained the wonderful strength of the +family tie in Scotch families. "I think," he added, "that under the +circumstances, mother did the only possible thing."</p> + +<p>"And the opening of my trunks, Robert dear, and the use of my clothing, +is that also a result of the Scotch family tie?"</p> + +<p>"Yes-s," he answered with easy composure, "they looked on you as one of +us and supposed you would gladly loan what they needed. Isabel says they +often borrow her brooches and rings and gowns. Moreover, mother informed +me, that it is the common custom to open a bride's trunks, and examine +her belongings."</p> + +<p>"A very rude and barbarous custom, I think, Robert, and it makes no +excuse for an infringement of manifest courtesy and kindness. And I am +sure that every one can forgive an injury, easier than an infringement +of their rights."</p> + +<p>"You must try and look at the matter reasonably, dear Dora."</p> + +<p>"You mean unreasonably, Robert, but if you do not care, why should I?" +Robert made no reply, but went on examining his fingernails, apparently +without noticing the look of pained surprise in his wife's eyes, nor yet +the far deeper sign of distress—that dumb lip-biting which indicates an +intensity of outraged feeling.</p> + +<p>This was Theodora's first lesson in the complexities of the Scotch +character, and it was a dear one. It cost her many illusions, many +hopes, and some secret tears. And the gain was doubtful. Nature knows +how to profit from every shower of rain, every glint of sunshine, every +drop of dew; but which of us ever learn from any past experience, how to +prepare a future that will give us what we desire?</p> + +<p>During the night she had plumbed the depths of depression, but in a +short deep morning sleep, she had found the strength to possess her +soul, not in patience, but in a sweet, firm resistance. She would accept +cheerfully the lot she had chosen, for to bear dumbly and passively the +many petty wrongs which ill-temper and dislike must bring her would only +tempt those who hated her to a continuance and enlargement of their sin. +Every one, even her husband, would despise her, and she suddenly +remembered how God, when He would reason with Job, bid him rise from +his dunghill, stand upon his feet, and answer Him like a man. So, she +would submit to no injustice, nor suffer without contradiction any lying +accusation, yet her weapons of defence should be kind and clean, and her +victory won by love and truth and honor—for in this way she herself +would rise by</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">—"<i>the things put under her feet,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>By what she mastered of good and gain,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>By the pride deposed, by the passion slain,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>And the vanquished ills she would hourly meet.</i>"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The prospect of such a victory made her heart swell with a noble joy, +for thus she would be creating her spiritual self, and so being God-like +be also loved of God.</p> + +<p>Her first effort was to compel herself to go to the breakfast table. She +wished to have Ducie bring her a cup of coffee and a couple of rolls to +her room, but that would only be shirking the inevitable. So she went to +the family table smiling, and almost radiant in a pretty pink gown, and +beautiful white muslin neckwear. Her manner was cheerful and +conciliatory, but it utterly failed, because the old lady believed it to +be the result of orders from her son. She was sure Robert had seen the +reasonableness of her conduct, and told Theodora to accept the +circumstances as unavoidable, and perhaps even excusable.</p> + +<p>So in spite of her smiles and efforts at conversation, the meal was +silent and unhappy and towards the end really distressing. It had begun +with oatmeal porridge served on large dinner plates, and she had +accepted her share without remark, though unable to eat it. But later, +when a dish of boiled salt herring appeared, its peculiar odor made her +so sick that it was with painful difficulty she sat through the meal. +Robert noticed her white face and general air of distress, and slightly +hurried his own meal in consequence.</p> + +<p>"Are you ill, Dora?" he asked, when she fell nauseated and limp among +the sofa cushions.</p> + +<p>"It was the smell of the salt fish, Robert. I could not conquer it."</p> + +<p>"But you must try. We have boiled salt herring every morning. I do not +remember a breakfast without them."</p> + +<p>"Then, dear Robert, I must have a cup of coffee in my dressing-room."</p> + +<p>"You might learn to bear the smell."</p> + +<p>"The ordeal would be too wasteful of life."</p> + +<p>"I don't see——"</p> + +<p>"No one can afford a disagreeable breakfast, Robert. It spoils the whole +day. And I might waste weeks and months trying to like the odor of +boiled salt herring, and never succeed—it is sickening to me."</p> + +<p>"It does not make me sick. I have had a boiled salt herring to breakfast +ever since I was seven years old."</p> + +<p>"You have learned to bear them."</p> + +<p>"I like them."</p> + +<p>"Did you like them at first?"</p> + +<p>"No, but I was made to eat them until at last I learned to relish them. +Mother believed them to be good for me. Now, I do not think my breakfast +perfect without a boiled salt herring."</p> + +<p>"We can force nature to take, and even enjoy poisons like whiskey and +opium, but I think such an education sinful and unclean."</p> + +<p>"Dora, you are too fastidious."</p> + +<p>"No, because a wronged body means something to a sensitive soul."</p> + +<p>"If you look at such a small thing in a light so important, you had +better take your breakfast alone. Good-morning!"</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<h3>FOES IN THE HOUSEHOLD</h3> + + +<p>She was ill for some hours, and all day much troubled at the +circumstance. In her proposed fight against the hatred of her husband's +family she had lost the first move, for she could well imagine the +triumphant mockery of her mother-in-law over her weakness and +squeamishness. In the afternoon she asked for the carriage, as she +wished to do some shopping, and was told Mrs. Campbell was intending to +use it. Then she sent for a cab and while she was dressing, Christina +came into her room wearing her street costume.</p> + +<p>"Isabel is going out with mother," she said. "Can I go with you, +Theodora?"</p> + +<p>The proposal was not welcome, but without hesitation Theodora answered: +"I shall be obliged if you will. I have some shopping to do, and you can +tell me the best places to go to."</p> + +<p>"I certainly can; I know all the best shops. I always do the shopping. I +like to shop; Isabel hates it. She says the shopmen are not civil to +her. Isabel is so particular about her dignity."</p> + +<p>"That is rather a good quality, is it not?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know—with that kind of people—shopmen and the like—it is +rather a daft thing to do."</p> + +<p>"Daft?"</p> + +<p>"Silly, I mean. They have to wait on you, why should you care how they +do it? I don't."</p> + +<p>"I am ready. Shall we go now?"</p> + +<p>"I am ready. What will you buy first?"</p> + +<p>"Linen—sheets, pillow-cases, table-cloths, napkins, etc. We shall want +a linen draper."</p> + +<p>"Then tell cabby to drive us to Smith and McDonald's. It is perfectly +lovely to be with you, and without mother and Isabel to snub me. I feel +as if I were having a holiday."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I might snub you."</p> + +<p>"I am sure you will not. I believe I am going to have a happy +afternoon."</p> + +<p>And she really had a few hours that perfectly delighted her. Theodora +asked her advice, and frequently took it. Theodora bought her gloves and +lace, and after the shopping was finished, they went into McLeod's +confectionery and had ices and cakes, lemonade and caramels. For once in +her life, Christina had felt herself to be well-informed and important. +She had told several funny stories also, and Theodora had laughed and +enjoyed them; indeed, she felt as if Theodora considered her quite +clever.</p> + +<p>"I have had such a jolly afternoon," she said as they parted. "Thank you +for taking me with you! I cannot tell you how happy I have been."</p> + +<p>But to Isabel's queries, she answered with an air of ennui: "You know +well, Isabel, what shopping means. We went here and there, and bought +linen of all kinds, and wine and cakes, and then we went to the large +furniture store, and selected a bookcase; for it seems that Robert, with +all his carefulness, forgot one."</p> + +<p>"Did you like her?"</p> + +<p>"She is good-natured enough. Everywhere we went the shopmen fell over +each other to wait on her. My! but it is a grand thing to be beautiful."</p> + +<p>"Do you really think her beautiful?"</p> + +<p>"Every one else does. It matters little what the Traquair Campbells +think. She is rather saucy, but she is so pleasant about it you can't +take offence."</p> + +<p>"Was she saucy to you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"What did she say?"</p> + +<p>"She said she would be much obliged if I would tap at the door before +entering her room."</p> + +<p>"The idea!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, she is nice enough! I wish mother was not so set against her. I +know she plays and sings, and I adore good music."</p> + +<p>"You will be adoring her next."</p> + +<p>"No, I will not, but I intend to use her when I can."</p> + +<p>"What for?"</p> + +<p>"To give me a little pleasure—to show me how to dress—to lend me books +and music, and take me with her when she goes calling and shopping."</p> + +<p>"I would not receive such favors from a person mother disliked so much."</p> + +<p>"Mother never finds any one she likes, except the Campbelton +people—frowsy, vulgar things, all of them; and I do think it was a +shame to use Dora's dresses and furs and jewelry the way they did."</p> + +<p>"Mother said it was right, and Robert seemed to think so also—that is, +after mother had explained the subject to him."</p> + +<p>"Whatever mother thinks, Robert finally thinks the same. He is more +afraid of mother than we are. I despise a man who can't stick to his own +opinion."</p> + +<p>"But if his opinion is wrong?"</p> + +<p>"All the same, he ought to stick to it; I should. I think Dora is a +lovely woman, and good, and clever. Mother ought to be proud of her new +daughter."</p> + +<p>"Mother had a high ideal for Robert's wife."</p> + +<p>"One that nobody but a Traquair Campbell—or a Jane Dalkeith could +fill."</p> + +<p>"Jane might have pleased her."</p> + +<p>"No one pleases mother! If you gave her the whites of your eyes, she +would not be pleased."</p> + +<p>"You must not forget, Christina, that she is our mother, and that the +Scriptures command us to honor her."</p> + +<p>"Sometimes, and in some cases, Isabel, that command is a gey hard one—I +might say an impossible one."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps, but the Holy Word makes no exceptions—good or bad, wise or +foolish, they are to be honored. Dr. Robertson said so, in his last +sermon to the Sunday School."</p> + +<p>"Dr. Robertson isna infallible, and 'wi' his ten romping, rampaging +sons and daughters, he be to lay down a strict law.' That was Jenny +McDonald's commentary on his sermon. I heard her say so, and I thought +to myself 'Jenny McDonald, you are a vera discerning woman.' I have +respected her ever since, and I shall see she gets a pair of blankets at +the Christmas fair."</p> + +<p>"Well, Christina, I shall not quarrel with you about Dora. I can live +without Dora, but you are essential."</p> + +<p>The evening proved to be as pleasant, as the morning had been +disagreeable. Robert had doubtless suffered some qualms of conscience +regarding his wife's treatment, and resolved to make it up to her by his +own attention. For he believed so firmly in himself, and in Theodora's +love for him, that he really thought a few kind words would atone for +every wrong and unkindness she had suffered.</p> + +<p>He found Theodora in the mood he expected. She was beautifully gowned, +and radiant with welcoming smiles. He forgot to name her morning +indisposition, but asked what she had been doing all day, and was much +pleased when she answered:</p> + +<p>"Christina and I have been shopping this afternoon. She was of great +assistance to me, and we had a delightful time." Then she told him what +she had bought, and made some very merry comments on the strange shops +and polite shopmen.</p> + +<p>Two things in her recital were particularly satisfactory—one of his own +family had shared her pleasure, and he had not been asked for money to +contribute to it. For his wedding expenses had begun to give him a +sense of poverty, and his naturally economical nature was shocked at +their total. But if Theodora liked to buy more linen and furniture, and +treat his sister and herself he had no objections. He supposed she had +plenty of money, he thought of what Mr. Newton called her "royalties," +and felt he might—at least for a few weeks—throw his responsibilities +upon them.</p> + +<p>On the whole, sitting by Theodora's side and listening to her pleasant +conversation, he felt life to be decidedly worth living. Her moderated +dress was also in consonance with his desires. For she had felt her +costume on the previous night to be out of tone with her surroundings, +and had therefore made a much simpler toilet. She had even wondered if +the rich silk and lace, and pearls, were to blame for the unkindness of +her reception; if so, she resolved not to err in that respect again. So +she wore a light gray liberty silk gown of walking length, with a pretty +white muslin waist, and an Eton jacket. A short sash of the same silk +tied at the left side was the only trimming, and her wedding ring with +its diamond guard her only jewelry. Its simplicity elicited her +husband's ardent admiration, and she hoped it would be satisfactory to +all. But who can please jealousy, envy, and hatred? An angel from heaven +would fail, then how should a mortal woman succeed?</p> + +<p>"Last night," said her mother-in-law scornfully, "my lady came sweeping +into the room like a very butterfly of a woman. She thought she would +astonish us. Did she imagine the Traquair Campbells could be snubbed by +a silk dress and a string of pearls? And to-night she comes smiling in +as modest as a Quakeress. I am led to believe, Robert has been giving +her a few words. I know right well she deserved them."</p> + +<p>"Mother," said Isabel, "I dare say she wanted us to believe that she had +been used to full dress dinners."</p> + +<p>"A likely thing in a Methodist preacher's house, or a girl's school +either."</p> + +<p>"College, you mean, mother," corrected Christina. "Or perhaps she +thought if she was dressed very fine, we would like her better. Dress +does make a deal of difference. None of us like our cousins Kerr, +because they dress so shabby."</p> + +<p>"Speak for your own feelings, Christina. Your sister Isabel and I always +treat the Kerr girls with respect."</p> + +<p>"Respect is a gey cold welcome. I would not take it twice."</p> + +<p>"I think you are forgetting yourself, Christina," said Isabel.</p> + +<p>"She has been in bad company all afternoon, Isabel. What can you expect? +I heard her tee-heeing and laughing with Dora, almost until dinner +time."</p> + +<p>And even as the old woman spoke, Robert entered and asked his sisters to +come and spend the evening with Dora and himself. "Dora is going to +sing," he said, "and it will be a great treat for you to hear her."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, brother," said Isabel. "I prefer to stay with mother."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps mother will also come."</p> + +<p>"No, Robert, I do not care for worldly music, and if I did, Christina +sings and plays very well."</p> + +<p>"Robert, I shall be delighted to come," said Christina. "You know I love +music."</p> + +<p>"You will remain with your sister and myself, Christina."</p> + +<p>"Please, mother, let me go! Robert, please!" and she looked so +entreatingly at her brother, that he sat down by his mother, and taking +her hand said: "You must humor me in this matter, dear mother. I want +some of you with me, and I am sure Christina can learn a great deal from +Dora. It will cost her nothing, and she ought to take advantage of +Dora's skill."</p> + +<p>The last argument prevailed. If Christina could get any advantage for +nothing, and especially from Theodora, Mrs. Campbell approved the +project.</p> + +<p>"You may go with your brother, Christina, for an hour, and make the most +of your opportunities. One thing is sure, the woman ought to do +something for the family, for goodness knows, we have been put to +extraordinary expense and trouble for her pleasure."</p> + +<p>A few minutes after the departure of Robert and his sister, Mrs. +Campbell said: "Open the parlor door, Isabel, and let us hear the +'treat' if we can."</p> + +<p>But the songs Theodora sang were quite unknown to the two listeners and +Mrs. Campbell indulged herself in much scornful criticism. "Who ever +heard the like? Do you call that music? It is just skirling. I would +rather hear Christina sing '<i>The Bush Aboon Traquair</i>,' or '<i>The Lass o' +Patie's Mill</i>,' or a good rattling Jacobite song like '<i>Highland +Laddie</i>,' or '<i>Over the Water to Charlie</i>.' There is music in the like +o' them, but there isn't a note o' it in Dora's caterwauling."</p> + +<p>"Listen, mother! She is singing merrily enough now. I wonder what it is? +Robert and Christina are both laughing."</p> + +<p>"Something wicked and theatrical, no doubt. Shut the door, Isabel, and +give me my <i>Practice of Piety</i>. Then you may leave me, and go to your +room, unless you wish to join your sister."</p> + +<p>"Mother, do not be unjust."</p> + +<p>"In an hour remind Christina. You are a good daughter, Isabel. You are +my greatest comfort."</p> + +<p>"Good-night, mother; you are always first with me."</p> + +<p>When Christina's hour was nearly at its close, Isabel went to her +brother's parlor door. Theodora was singing the sweetest little melody +and her voice was so charmful that Isabel could not tap at the door—as +Christina had been instructed to do—until it ceased. And for many a day +the words haunted her, though she always told herself there was neither +sense nor reason in them.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"<i>If there were dreams to sell</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>What would you buy?</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Some cost a passing bell,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Some a light sigh,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>That shakes from Life's fresh crown</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Only a rose leaf down.</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>If there were dreams to sell,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Merry and sad to tell,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>And the crier rang the bell,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>What would you buy?</i>"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>After this question had rung itself into her heart and memory, she +tapped at the door and Robert rose and opened it. And when Isabel spoke +they brought her in, willing or unwilling, and made so much of her visit +that she could not deny their kindness. Besides, as Robert told her, +they wanted a game of whist so much, and she made it possible. "You +shall be my partner," he added, "and we are sure to win." He was holding +her hand as he spoke, and ere he ceased, he had led her to the table and +got her a seat. Christina threw down a pack of cards, and Isabel found +it impossible to resist the temptation, for she loved a game of whist +and played a clever hand. Then the hours slipped happily away, and it +was near midnight when the sisters stepped softly to their rooms.</p> + +<p>"I have had such a good time," whispered Christina.</p> + +<p>"It was a good game," answered Isabel.</p> + +<p>"Don't you think she is nice?"</p> + +<p>"Dora?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"She puts on plenty of nice airs."</p> + +<p>"I hope Robert will ask us to-morrow night."</p> + +<p>"I shall not go again. I could not help to-night's visit. There is no +need to say anything to mother. It would only worry her."</p> + +<p>"In the morning she will tell us the precise moment that we came +upstairs. No doubt she was watching and listening, and if we had the +feet of a mouse she would hear us."</p> + +<p>But if Mrs. Campbell heard she made no remark on the situation. She knew +well that if Isabel was brought face to face with her frailty, she would +defend it, and defend all concerned in it, and also make a point of +repeating the fault in order to prove the propriety of her position. +That would be giving Theodora too great an advantage. On the contrary, +she was in her pleasantest mood, and as Theodora had her coffee in her +own parlor there was no incident to mar the even temper of the breakfast +table.</p> + +<p>When Robert left it, he was followed so quickly by Christina that she +had an opportunity of speaking to him as he was putting on his overcoat +and gloves, and thus to thank him for his invitation of the previous +evening. "I never had such a happy time in all my life, Robert," she +said, "and Theodora does play and sing wonderfully. It is a joy to +listen to her."</p> + +<p>"Is it not?" he queried with a beaming face. "You were a good girl to +call on her, and go out with her; and I will remember you at the New +Year handsomely if you make things pleasant for Theodora."</p> + +<p>"I would do so to please you, Robert. I do not want to be paid for +that," replied Christina. Robert smiled and went away in such a happy +temper, that Jepson said as he took his place at the head of the kitchen +breakfast table: "The master is off in high spirits this morning. The +bride is winning her way, I suppose. She seems rather an attractive +woman."</p> + +<p>"You suppose! And pray what will your supposing be worth, Mr. Jepson?" +Mrs. McNab asked this question scornfully from the foot of the table. +"Attractive, indeed! She's charming, she's captivating, she's +enchanting, she's bewitching; and if she was only Highland Scotch, she +would soon be teaching thae sour old women the meaning o' them powerful +words. She would that! But she's o'er good, and o'er good-tempered for +the like o' them."</p> + +<p>"You are talking of the mistress, McNab."</p> + +<p>"I am weel acquaint wi' that fact, and I'll just remind you that my name +is Mistress McNab, when you find sense enough to give me my right. And +if it isna lawfu' to talk o' Mistress Traquair Campbell, there's no law +forbidding me to talk o' them Lairds and Crawfords. If they ever come +here again, the smoke will get through their porridge, and they'll +wonder what the de'il is the matter wi' Mistress McNab's cookery."</p> + +<p>"The guests of the house, McNab, ought to have a kind of +consideration."</p> + +<p>"Consider them yoursel', then."</p> + +<p>"The Crawfords and Lairds both are the most respect——"</p> + +<p>"Ill-bred, and forwardsome o' mortals. I could say much worse——"</p> + +<p>"Better not."</p> + +<p>"Bouncing, swaggering, nasty, beggarly creatures! They turn up their +lang noses, and the palms o' their greedy hands at the like o' you and +me, but there isna a lady or a gentleman at this table, that wouldna +scorn the dirty things they did here."</p> + +<p>"They gave none o' us a sixpence when they went awa," said Thomas, the +second man.</p> + +<p>"Sixpence! They couldna imagine a bawbee or a kind word to anybody but +themsel's. They wouldna gie the smoke aff their porridge—but I'll tell +you the differ o' them. The young mistress, God bless her, sends her +maid to me last night, and the girl—a civil spoken creature—says: +'Mrs. McNab, my mistress would like her coffee and rolls in her own +parlor, and there will be due you half-a-crown a week for your trouble, +and thank you.' That's the way a lady puts things. And mind you, if +there's the like o' a fresh kidney, or a few mushrooms coming Mrs. +McNab's way, they will go to my lovely lady in her own parlor—and +Jepson, you can just tell the auld woman I made that remark."</p> + +<p>"What is said at this table goes no further, Mrs. McNab, and that you +know."</p> + +<p>"Then the auld woman has the far-hearing, that's a'——" and being by +this time at the end of her temper and her English speech, she plunged +into Gaelic. It was her sure and unconquered resort, for no one could +answer unpronounceable and untranslatable words. All her companions knew +was, that she rose from the table with an air of victory.</p> + +<p>The next week was very wet. Day after day it was rain only interrupted +by more rain, and Robert seemed to take a kind of pride in its +abundance. "Few countries are so well watered as Scotland," he said +complacently:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"<i>The West wind always brings wet weather,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>The East wind wet and cold together,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>The South wind surely brings us rain,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>The North wind blows it back again.</i>"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>This storm included Sunday, and every one went to church except +Theodora. She had a headache, and having been told by Christina that the +Kirk would size her up the first Sabbath she appeared, she resolved to +put off the ordeal. The pleasure of being quite alone for a few hours +was a temptation, for she needed solitude more than service, bewildered +as she was by the strange household ideas and customs which had suddenly +encompassed her life.</p> + +<p>She had thought that religion, or some point of nationality, would be +the most likely rocks of offence, but as yet all her trials had come +from some trivial circumstance of daily life. She had been embarrassed +by such small differences, that she hardly knew in the hasty decisions +they compelled, what to defend and what to abandon.</p> + +<p>It was also a wearisome experience to be constantly exchanging +suspicious courtesies with her husband's family, and by no effort of +love or patience could she get beyond these. Their want of response made +her sad, and checked her affectionate and spontaneous advances, but she +knew that in the trials of domestic life all plans must come at last to +the give and take, bear and forbear theory. So after some reflection, +she said softly to herself: "These women are the samples of humanity +given me with my husband, and I must make the best of them. I can choose +my friends, but I must take my relations as I find them. They are not +what I wish, not what I expected, but I fear nothing comes up to our +expectations. The real thing always lacks the color of the thing hoped +for."</p> + +<p>Such despondent musings, however, were not natural to her hopeful +temper. "There must be a bright side to the situation," she continued, +"and I must try and find it." So she roused herself from the recumbent +position she had taken. "Stand up on thy feet, and look for the bright +side, Theodora." As she did so, her eyes fell upon the small book in her +hand, and she read these words:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Take a good heart, O Jerusalem, for he that gave thee that +name will comfort thee." With a joyful smile she read it again, +and this time aloud:</p> + +<p>"Take a good heart, O Theodora, for he that gave thee that name +will comfort thee!"<a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> The glorious promise inspired her at +once with strength and joy; she felt her soul singing within +her, and her first impulse was to open the piano and pour out +her thanksgiving.</p> + +<p>"O come let us sing unto the Lord, let us heartily rejoice in +the strength of our salvation."</p></blockquote> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> Baruch. Chap. 4, v. 30.</p></div> + +<p>At this point McNab rushed into the room crying: "For goodness sake, my +lady, stop! You'll be having the police in, and the de'il to pay all +round, disturbing the Sunday saints and the like o' it. Excuse me, +ma'am, but you don't know what you're up to."</p> + +<p>"I am singing a psalm, McNab. Is there anything wrong in that?"</p> + +<p>"You've put your finger on the wrong, ma'am. Singing a psalm isna a +thing fit to be done in your ain parlor on the Sunday. It is a' right in +the Kirk, but it is a' wrang in the parlor."</p> + +<p>"How is that?"</p> + +<p>"You be to ask wiser folk than I am what's the differ. If you were +singing the psalm o' the blessed Virgin itsel' and folk heard you, there +would be no end o' the matter. You can sing without the piano, ma'am, +it's the piano that's the blackguard on a Sunday."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, McNab, for warning me. I have not learned the ways of the +country yet."</p> + +<p>"You'll never learn them, ma'am. They must be borned in ye, sucked in +wi' your mither's milk, and thrashed into ye wi' your school lessons. +Just gie them their ways, and stick to your ain. You can do that, McNab +does. They are easy satisfied if it suits their convenience. Every soul +in this house is at church but mysel', for I hae made collops the +regular Sunday dinner, and no one but McNab can cook collops to suit +Mrs. Traquair Campbell."</p> + +<p>"I am sure she would not keep you from church to make collops."</p> + +<p>"I am a Catholic, and she keeps me at home to make collops, to prevent +me going to my ain church. God save us! she thinks she is keeping me +from serving the devil."</p> + +<p>"So you are a Catholic?"</p> + +<p>"Glory be to God, I am a Catholic! Did you ever taste collops, ma'am?"</p> + +<p>"I never heard of them."</p> + +<p>"Weel, they arena bad, and when McNab makes them, they are vera good. I +shall put a few mushrooms in them to-day for your sake."</p> + +<p>"Thank you!"</p> + +<p>"And you can sing twice as much the morn. I'm sure it is a thanksgiving +to listen to you."</p> + +<p>Then the door closed, and Theodora closed the piano, put away her music, +and went upstairs to dress for dinner. The thanksgiving was still in her +heart, and she sang it with her soul joyfully, as she put on one of her +most cheerful and beautiful costumes. It seemed natural and proper to do +so, and without reasoning on the subject, she felt it to be in fit +sympathy with her mood.</p> + +<p>Even when the churchgoers came home drabbled and dripping, and as cross +and gloomy as if they had been to hear a Gospel that was bad news, +instead of good news, she did not feel its incongruity with her +environment, until her mother-in-law said:</p> + +<p>"You are very much over-dressed for the day, Dora."</p> + +<p>"It is God's day, and I dressed in honor of the day."</p> + +<p>"Then you should have gone to church to honor Him."</p> + +<p>Before his wife could reply, Robert made a diversion: "What did you +think of the sermon, mother?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"It was a very strong sermon."</p> + +<p>"Who was the preacher?" asked Isabel.</p> + +<p>"Dr. Fraser of Stirling," said Robert.</p> + +<p>"Well, brother, I do not believe Dr. Robertson would have approved the +sermon. It is not like his preaching."</p> + +<p>"It was an excellent sermon," reiterated Mrs. Campbell. "I hope all the +uncovenanted present felt its weighty solemnity." She muttered, twice +over, its awful text: "The wicked shall be turned into hell, and all the +nations that forget God."</p> + +<p>"There is a better word for them than that," said Theodora, her face +alight with spiritual promise. "'The Lord is long-suffering to us-ward, +not willing that any should perish, but that <i>all</i> should come to +repentance.' That is what Saint Peter says, and Timothy, 'God our +Saviour will have all men to be saved,' a great <i>all</i> that, and the +Testament is full of such glad hope."</p> + +<p>"Those passages do not apply to the lost, Dora."</p> + +<p>"But as your great Scotch preacher, Thomas Erskine, said, we are lost +<i>here</i> as much as there, and Christ came to seek and to save the lost."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Campbell looked with sorrowful anger at her son, and Robert said: +"My dear Dora, you argue like a woman. Women should listen, and never +argue."</p> + +<p>"Women are told to search the Scriptures, Robert. I search and +understand them, but I do not often understand the men who profess to +explain them."</p> + +<p>"Your father——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, my father! <i>He</i> has come unto Bethlehem. Those who can believe God +has any pleasure in punishing sinners, are still at Sinai."</p> + +<p>"God must punish sinners," said Isabel.</p> + +<p>"God can reform and forgive them, just as easily; and it would be far +more in accord with His nature, for 'God is Love.'"</p> + +<p>"If we are to have a theological discussion by young women, I shall +retire," said Robert, and with these words he rose from the table.</p> + +<p>"Sit down, Robert. You have had no pudding."</p> + +<p>"The collops were very fine to-day, mother, and I am satisfied."</p> + +<p>As he left the room Theodora rose and went with him, but he did not +appear to notice her. When they were in their parlor he said: "You ought +to have sat still and finished your argument with my sister."</p> + +<p>"Have I done something wrong, Robert?"</p> + +<p>"I think if you cannot assent to mother's statements, it would be more +becoming not to contradict them."</p> + +<p>"If it had been a matter of no importance, I would have kept silence, +but I must always testify in any company, the absolute perfection of +Jesus Christ's sacrifice."</p> + +<p>"Nobody challenged it."</p> + +<p>"But if it does not save <i>all</i> it is imperfect. And surely John the +Beloved knew his Master's heart, and he says 'Jesus Christ is the +propitiation for our sins, and not for ours only, but also for the sins +of the whole world.' How can any one dare to narrow that zone of mercy?"</p> + +<p>"You argue like a woman, Dora."</p> + +<p>"I am not arguing. I am only quoting what the greatest of men have +said."</p> + +<p>Then Robert lifted the <i>Sunday Magazine</i> and answered all her further +efforts at conversation in polite monosyllables, and finding the +position she had been relegated to both embarrassing and humiliating, +she finally went to her room upstairs, and shut herself in with God. Her +eyes were full of unshed tears, as she turned the key, for she felt that +something in her life had lost its foothold. Was it her faith? Oh, no! +She trusted God implicitly. She could not think any ill of Him, she had +loved Him from her cradle. Was it her love? Oh, how reluctant she was, +to even ask this question. But there was a great change in Robert, or +was it that she now saw the real Robert Campbell, while the man who had +wooed and won her had been but a man playing a lover's rôle?</p> + +<p>For even during the few days they had been at home, it was evident that +both he and his family were resolved on her surrendering her faith, and +her individuality. She was to be made over by the Campbells in their own +image and likeness. Robert had loved and married Theodora Newton; was +she to change her character with her name? She had made no such promise, +and, without the slightest egotism, she could see that such a denial of +herself would compel from her mental and spiritual nature a downward, +backward movement, so deep and wide she dared not contemplate it.</p> + +<p>Her duty to her husband was plain as the Bible, and she promised herself +to fulfil it to the last tittle, but while doing this, she must find the +courage to be true to herself, as well as to others. And as nothing can +be done in the heart by halves, it would be no fitful or uncertain +struggle. The whole soul, the whole heart, the whole mind, the whole +life, would be demanded. She was troubled at the prospect before her. +Would she find strength and wisdom for it? Or would it prove to be +another of the lost fights of Virtue?</p> + +<p>"No, no!" she cried. "I shall not fight alone. God and Theodora are a +multitude."</p> + +<p>She had certainly that doleful afternoon gone back in piteous memory to +her teaching and writing, and her own peaceful, loving home, and thought +that if trouble was necessary for her higher development it could have +been better borne in either environment. But she acknowledged also that</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"<i>Where our Captain bids us go,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>'Tis not ours to murmur 'No.'</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>He that gives us sword and shield,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Chooses too the battlefield.</i>"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>So if God had chosen this gloomy house, full of jealousy, envy, hatred, +and apparently dying love, for her battlefield, it was not her place to +murmur "No," nor even her desire, since He that</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">"<i>chose the battlefield,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Would give her also sword and shield.</i>"<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<h3>BAD AT BEST</h3> + + +<p>If there had been a little diversity in the Campbell family it would +have been a more bearable household. But they had the same prejudices +and the same likes and dislikes, differing only in the intensity with +which they held them. Mrs. Campbell and her son Robert were the most +positive, Isabel was but little behind them, and Christina was easily +bent as the others desired. Under present circumstances she could only +be true to her family; under any other circumstances, it was doubtful if +she could be false. This monotony of feeling pressed like a weight on +Theodora, who felt that she could have borne opposition and unkindness +better if there had been more variety in their exhibition; for then Life +might have had some interesting fluctuations.</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Campbell did precisely the same things every day, and to go to +the works at the same moment every morning was the sum-total of Robert's +life. The girls had certain dresses for the morning, and certain other +dresses for the afternoon, and their employments were quite as uniform. +There were even certain menus for every day's dinner in the week, and +these were repeated with little or no change year in and year out. For +Mrs. Campbell hated the unexpected; she tried to order her life so that +there should be no surprises in it. On the contrary Theodora delighted +in the unforeseen. She would have wished that even in heaven she might +have happy surprises—the sudden meeting with an old friend, or good +news from the dear earth still loved and remembered.</p> + +<p>However, she had that hopefulness and virginity of spirit that makes the +best of what cannot be changed, and as the weeks went on she learned to +ignore the ill-will she could not conquer and to bear in silence the +wrongs not to be put right by any explanations. And she soon made many +acquaintances, and a few sincere friends. Among the latter were Dr. +Robertson and his wife, and Mrs. Oliphant, the American. The former had +called on Theodora about ten days after her home-coming and had been +heartily attracted by her intelligence and beauty. The doctor was +passionately fond of good music, and when he noticed the open piano and +the name Mendelssohn on the music above it, he asked in an eager voice: +"You will play for me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," Theodora answered, "very gladly! My piano is my great friend and +companion. It feels with me in every mood. What shall I play?"</p> + +<p>"The song before you. Mendelssohn can get very near to a musical soul."</p> + +<p>She rose at once, and after a short prelude played in a manner so +masterful as to cause the minister to look at his wife in wonder as her +magnificent voice lifted that pathetic prayer, which has spoken for the +sorrowful and suffering in all ages:</p> + +<p>"O that I had wings like a dove, then would I flee away and be at rest."</p> + +<p>Every note and every word was full of passionate spiritual desire and +tender aspiration, and the music was as if her guardian angel joined her +in it. The doctor was entranced, and Mrs. Robertson rose and was +standing by the singer's side when she ceased.</p> + +<p>"O, my dear, my dear!" she said, "you have gone straight to my heart."</p> + +<p>A long and delightful conversation followed; then Ducie set an exquisite +little service, and gave the company tea and cake and sweetmeats, and +the visit did not terminate for nearly another hour.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Campbell was in a transport of anger. "I was never even asked +after," she complained to her son, "and Dora kept them all of two +hours—such ignorance of social customs—and I could hear them talking +and singing like a crowd of daffing young people."</p> + +<p>"You ought to have joined them, mother."</p> + +<p>"I ought to have been asked to do so, but I was quite neglected."</p> + +<p>A few minutes later Robert said to his wife: "Why did you not send for +mother when the minister called?"</p> + +<p>"Mother was not asked for, and whenever I do send for her she makes a +point of refusing, often very rudely, and I did not wish Dr. Robertson +to be refused in our parlor."</p> + +<p>"Who was mother rude to? It is not her way."</p> + +<p>"To Mrs. Oliphant for one, and there were others."</p> + +<p>"She does not approve of Mrs. Oliphant."</p> + +<p>"I did not know whether she approved of Dr. and Mrs. Robertson. I like +them very much. The doctor was very happy, and Mrs. Robertson told me 'I +had gone straight to her heart.'"</p> + +<p>"Such extravagance of speech! But she is Irish, and the Irish must +exaggerate. They are a most untruthful race."</p> + +<p>"They are an affectionate race, and what is the good of loving people, +if you do not tell them so? They might as well be without such love."</p> + +<p>"Do not be foolish, Dora."</p> + +<p>"Is that foolishness?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Then once you were very foolish. I have not forgotten the time, when +you continually told me how dearly you loved me. I was very happy then."</p> + +<p>He turned and looked at her, and her beauty conquered him. He took her +to his heart, and said: "I do love you, Dora. Yes, I do love you!" And +then she grew radiant, and joy transfigured her face, and they went in +to dinner together like lovers.</p> + +<p>A little later when Dr. Robertson and his wife were sitting alone they +began to talk of Theodora. "She has a great heart," said Mrs. Robertson, +"and more's the pity."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Kate, more's the pity, if she loves Robert Campbell; for it's +small love she will get in return. Like ivy on a stone wall, she will +obtain only a rigid and niggardly support, and even for that must go +searching all round with humble embraces."</p> + +<p>"You may take back your last two words, Angus. Yonder woman will stand +level with her husband, or not stand with him at all. She would scorn +your humble embraces."</p> + +<p>"I fear she is in trouble already. There were tears in her voice as she +sang."</p> + +<p>"It would have melted the heart of a stone. Trouble? Certainly. How can +she live with those three amazing women, and be out of trouble?"</p> + +<p>"Well, Kate, the key of life which opens all its doors, and answers all +its questions, is not 'how' or 'why' or even 'I wish' or 'I will.' It is +<i>I must</i>. She must live with them. She must, she must, she must; and +she'll do it."</p> + +<p>"She will not do it long. Mind what I say. She will strive till she is +weary, and then she must leave him—or else drift on a sorrowful sea +like a dismasted ship."</p> + +<p>"She believes in God—a believer in God never does that."</p> + +<p>"Then she will have to leave him. Who could stand the ill-natured +nagging of those women, and his sullen, masterful ways? No one."</p> + +<p>"She must! The tooth often bites the tongue, but they keep together."</p> + +<p>"Poor woman! It is a hard road for her to walk on."</p> + +<p>"It is the ground that we do <i>not</i> walk on, that supports us. Faith +treads on the void, and finds the rock beneath. She has found that +rock, or I am greatly mistaken."</p> + +<p>"I feel sure she has found it. Angus, if you could get her to sing that +prayer, 'O For the Wings of a Dove' in church, say, while the Elders +went round with the collection boxes, it would do a deal of good. It +would touch every heart—they wouldn't mind their pennies, they might +even give a crown where they have given a shilling."</p> + +<p>"That is a capital idea, but I should have to ask Campbell for his +consent."</p> + +<p>"He does not own her voice."</p> + +<p>"He thinks he does, and he must have his say-so. But if she could touch +every heart as she touched ours what a gracious gift of song it would +be!"</p> + +<p>"I believe she could. Ask Robert Campbell."</p> + +<p>"I will."</p> + +<p>Under all circumstances Robert would have received the minister with +extreme courtesy, for a Scotchman can no more afford to quarrel with the +dominie of his Kirk than a Catholic in Rome can afford to quarrel with +the Pope in Rome. Also, he had a great respect for Dr. Robertson, and +when he was told of the sermon he intended to preach on the following +Sabbath he was very proud of the confidence, and still prouder to be of +service in promoting its effectiveness.</p> + +<p>"Of course," he said, "Mrs. Campbell would sing. Why not? Was he not +always happy to oblige the doctor and benefit the church?" And it never +struck him that he was assuming an absolute right in Theodora's voice, +and in her use of it; because he actually felt what he assumed. Nor did +he see that in giving her voice to benefit the church he was thinking +solely of the church as a religious society, and the souls composing it +were never for a moment in his calculation. Both of these facts were +clear to the minister, and he hoped that when Campbell saw and felt the +effects of his concession he would be disposed to give some thanks to +Theodora, and so get a glimpse of what he owed to a wife so good, so +clever, and so lovely.</p> + +<p>It was remarkable that he never named the subject to his mother, and to +Theodora he only spoke of the minister's visit, and asked if he had +called on her.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she answered, "I made all arrangements with him." She did not +dare to express her pleasure, for in that case she knew by experience he +would probably cancel his concession. She permitted him to think she was +willing to oblige the doctor, because he wished it, and then he felt it +necessary to say that it was for "the good of the church, and that he +had only consented to her singing for that reason."</p> + +<p>Two days afterwards Mrs. Robertson called on Theodora and they went out +together, nor did Theodora return until after ten o'clock. At that hour +Mrs. Campbell sent for her son to discuss Dora's absence with him. She +found him satisfied, instead of angry, as she supposed he would be.</p> + +<p>"It is quite right, mother," he said. "Dora is dining with the +Robertsons. I was invited, but I preferred to remain at home."</p> + +<p>"You did the proper thing. Neither I nor your sisters were invited. I +consider our neglect a great insult."</p> + +<p>"No insult was intended, mother. They are infatuated with Dora, and I +dare say have invited some of the congregation to meet her. Why, there +she is now!" he exclaimed, "and I wonder who is with her?"</p> + +<p>"I advise you to find out."</p> + +<p>He followed the advice, and went to the open door. Theodora was in the +embrace of Mrs. Oliphant. "You darling," she was saying, "I can hardly +wait for Sunday. O, how are you, Mr. Campbell? You ought to have been +with us. We have had the loveliest evening with your adorable wife—but +we have brought her safe home."</p> + +<p>Then Mr. Oliphant laughed: "You ought to keep at her side, Campbell. +Every man o' us would like to run awa' with her."</p> + +<p>He said the words jokingly, but Robert was very angry, and Theodora felt +that his permission for the Sunday singing wavered in the balance. But +the danger passed in his criticisms of the offender, whom he stigmatized +as "the most uxorious and foolish of husbands."</p> + +<p>Except to Theodora, he did not name the subject of her singing on the +coming Sabbath, and as neither Mrs. Campbell nor her daughters spoke of +it, Theodora followed the example set her and kept silence. When Sunday +arrived, she went quietly out of the house while the rest were dressing, +and at the last moment Robert joined his family, saying: "I will go to +church with you this morning, mother." He gave no reason for his +conduct, nor did Mrs. Campbell ask for one. She concluded that Theodora +was sick, or that more likely she had had a dispute with her husband +about the service, and in consequence had refused to attend it.</p> + +<p>As it happened Mrs. Campbell had only heard Theodora sing from a +distance, or behind closed doors, and Isabel was very near in the same +ignorance of her voice and its ability. Christina was more likely to +recognize the singer, for she had frequently heard her, but she did not, +or at least only in a vague and uncertain manner. She wished Theodora +had been present, that she might learn her deficiencies, and she +wondered that two people should have voices so similar; but she +reflected, that her own voice was so like Isabel's that her mother +frequently mistook them. But Robert knew, and his heart melted to the +passionate stress and longing of her cry: "O that I had wings like a +dove," and thrilled to the joy and triumph of the rest hoped for.</p> + +<p>The whole church was moved as if it had been one spirit and one heart. +The place seemed to be on fire with feeling, and as the marvellous voice +died away in peace and rest a strange but mighty influence swept over +the usually cold and stolid congregation. Some wept silently, some bowed +their heads, and a few stood and looked upward, while the soft, rolling +notes of the organ died away in the benediction. Very quietly and +speechlessly the congregation dispersed. All went home with the song in +their hearts, but not until they sat down in their homes did they begin +to talk together of the psalm and the singer. Even Mrs. Campbell was +touched and pleased, and she took a great delight in praising the +singer, as they sat at lunch.</p> + +<p>"That <i>was</i> singing," she said, "and the finest singing I ever heard. +Many people pretend to sing who know nothing about it and have no voice +to sing with—but, thank God, for once in my life, I have heard +singing."</p> + +<p>"It sounded very like Dora's voice," said Christina.</p> + +<p>"You are mistaken," replied Isabel, "besides, the voice we heard this +morning is a finely trained voice—I mean, as voices are trained for +oratorio and public singing. It was a soprano, and soprano voices are +very much alike."</p> + +<p>No one cared to dispute Isabel's explanation and the conversation +drifted to the sermon from the same psalm. "It was a good sermon," said +Mrs. Campbell, "but people will forget it in the song."</p> + +<p>"The song was the sermon to-day," said Isabel.</p> + +<p>"The sermon was water, the song was wine," said Robert.</p> + +<p>"I wish you would get the music, Dora. I am sure you could learn to sing +it very well," said Christina; and Theodora smiled and answered, "I will +try and get the music, if you wish, Christina."</p> + +<p>"No, no!" cried Mrs. Campbell. "I would not have the memory of this +morning's song spoiled for a great deal."</p> + +<p>"Nor I, mother," added Isabel. "Would you, Robert?"</p> + +<p>The better man had possession of Robert at that hour and he replied with +a strong fervor:</p> + +<p>"No, not for anything. It is one memory I shall hope to keep green as +long as I live." He looked at Theodora, and if any there had had eyes to +see, they might have read the secret in their beaming faces.</p> + +<p>In their own parlor Robert was more enthusiastic than Theodora had seen +him for a long time. "You have often gone to my heart, Dora," he said, +"but this morning you touched my soul." And they were very happy +together. This was the man Theodora loved. This was the man to whom she +had given her heart and hand. Oh, how was she to keep this Robert +Campbell always to the fore?</p> + +<p>To do any great thing with the heart of another, you must vivisect your +own, and this truth Theodora had to practise continually. Her life was +one of such painful self-denial as left all its little pleasant places +bare and barren; but she knew that in this way only could peace be +bought, and she paid the price, excepting always, when it struck at her +self-respect or violated her conscience. For she had constant +opportunities of seeing that the spirit of submission carried too far +was responsible for most of the misery and wrongs of the household; +since despotism is never the sin of one, but comes from the servility +of those around the despot. And as Robert was not always indifferent, +but had frequent visitings from his better self, she made the most of +these happy times, and took the envy and hatred of the rest as she took +wet weather, or wind, or snow, or any other exhibition of the Higher +Powers. For if training and education had made Theodora self-respectful, +it had also made her avoid everything like self-indulgence.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"<i>To her there never came the thought,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>That this her life was meant to be</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>A pleasure house, where peace unbought</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Should minister to pride and glee.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"<i>Sublimely she endured each ill</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>As a plain fact, whose right or wrong</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>She questioned not; confiding still</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>That it would last—not over long.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"<i>Willing from first to last to take</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>The mysteries of her life as given,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Leaving her time-worn soul to slake</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Its thirst, in an undoubted heaven.</i>"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>So the weeks passed on in a kind of armed truce with short intervals of +satisfying happiness, whenever Robert chose to make her happy. She still +took her breakfast alone, and now and then Robert, allured by the pretty +appetizing table on the cheerful hearth, drank his coffee and ate a +rasher of bacon beside her. Then how gay and delighted she was, and as +on such occasions he gave up his porridge and salt herring, McNab, in +order to pleasure the mistress whom she loved, always found him some +dainty to atone for his deprivation. And the meal was so good and +cheerful, that it was a wonderful thing he did not join his wife +constantly.</p> + +<p>It was now getting near to Christmas, but none of the family had yet +ventured to tell Mrs. Campbell the truth concerning the singing in the +church although she frequently spoke of it. In fact, ever since that +Sabbath she had made a point of sending a note to Theodora whenever she +heard the piano. "I know practising from music," she said in every note, +"and I do not like practising." Only Christina being present at the +practising interfered with the message, and many times it had been sent +when it was the caller who was doing the practising. The order was +always obeyed, lest it should be more offensively repeated, and to no +one but Mrs. Oliphant did Theodora confide her reason for closing the +instrument so promptly. The message elicited from Mrs. Oliphant scornful +laughter, and the three women listening for the manner of its reception +were not surprised.</p> + +<p>"They are laughing at my order," said Mrs. Campbell, "what dreadful +manners Americans do have!"</p> + +<p>"Dora's manners are equally bad. She had no business to show her the +note," said Isabel.</p> + +<p>"Dora is English; what can you expect?"</p> + +<p>"Dora ought to send for me when she has company," said Christina, "then +she would be allowed to practise, would she not, mother?"</p> + +<p>"Christina, I am always willing to sacrifice myself for my children, and +you profess to learn something from her playing."</p> + +<p>"I do, and I love to hear her play and sing. Dora has been kind to me, +she isn't half bad."</p> + +<p>"Well, Christina, in all proper things I consult my children's pleasure, +rather than my own comfort."</p> + +<p>Isabel said nothing, and yet Theodora had made many whist parties for +her pleasure, persuading Robert to invite to them such unmarried men as +would be suitable partners for his sisters in life, as well as at the +whist table. These parties had always terminated with supper and music, +Christina being the principal, and generally the only performer. She had +taken both of the sisters out with her, dressed them for entertainments, +shown them how to dress themselves, and taught them those little tricks +of the toilet, which are to women at once so innocent and so +indispensable. Many times these services had been rendered cheerfully +when she was sick or depressed, but neither of the girls had any +conception of a kindness, except as it related to themselves—how it +benefited their looks or their feelings, and what results would accrue +to them from it. Never once had they expressed a sense of obligation for +any favor done them. They took every kindness as their right, for they +heard their mother constantly assert: "Dora could never do enough for +them."</p> + +<p>"She has forced herself into our family without our desire or +permission," she would say, "and if she could only understand it she is +a great wrong and annoyance to us. If she <i>does</i> teach Christina music +and singing and French, and entertain you both now and then, it is her +bounden duty to do that, and more. She is a born schoolmistress anyway, +and no doubt feels quite at home teaching you any little thing she can."</p> + +<p>This was not a happy life for Theodora, but she had chosen it, and our +choices are our destiny. It was now her duty to make the best of it, and +if Robert was only a little loving and just, her fine spirits and +hopeful temper made her gay as a bird in spring. Her enthusiasms were +incomprehensible to the three women, they were even repulsive; for +neither the selfish, ill-tempered mother, nor the selfish, servile +daughters, could understand that joy, which, coming from the inner life, +is illimitably glad and hopeful, "something afar from the sphere of our +sorrow."</p> + +<p>But even Robert was now ashamed of his enthusiasms as a lover, as a +married man he considered them quite out of place. They had served their +purpose and ought to be retired from the sensible atmosphere of daily +life. So he allowed the noblest and tenderest symbols of love to die of +cruel neglect, and his occasional breakfasts with Theodora were the only +remnant of his once passionate personal love. He was quite willing to +consider Dora as belonging to the whole family, and he smiled grimly if +he remembered the days in which he was intensely jealous even of her own +father and mother's claim on her affection.</p> + +<p>One great reason for Theodora's life being so troubled by dislike and +unrest was doubtless because her angel was not, and could not, be +friends with the angels of her new connections. They had no business to +be in the same house. They got in each other's way and provoked +friction. And though physical crowding is bad, spiritual crowding is +much worse. Theodora had been well aware of the antagonism of her angel +to her marriage with Robert Campbell. By intuitions, presentiments, +omens, dreams, and even by clairaudient words, she had been warned of +matrimonial troubles.</p> + +<p>But she had an invincible faith in her influence over her intended +husband, and as for a fight with others, or with circumstances, of +neither was she afraid. She had always won her way triumphantly. She +believed in God, she believed in herself, and she believed in humanity. +The calibre of a Scotch family composed of three-fourths women, was a +combination she had never seen, never heard of, never read of, and could +not possibly imagine.</p> + +<p>Yes, she had been abundantly counselled, and she remembered especially +the last warning that she received before her marriage. She was at the +Salutation Hotel on Lake Windermere, standing at the window of her room +looking over the lovely scene. All Nature was calm as a resting wheel, +the sky full of stars; all the mystery and majesty of earth, the lake, +the woods, the mountains encompassed her. And as she stood there musing +on the past, and on the future as connected with Robert Campbell, the +voice she knew so well pleaded with her for the last time.</p> + +<p>"<i>Are you able?</i>" it asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she answered softly but audibly.</p> + +<p>"<i>The fight will be hard.</i>"</p> + +<p>"I shall win it."</p> + +<p>"<i>Though as by fire!</i>"</p> + +<p>Then she was alone, and she felt strangely desolate and afraid.</p> + +<p>For though one come from the dead, the soul self-centred and confident +in its own wisdom will not believe. Then it can only learn its life's +lesson by those cruel experiences from which its good angel would so +gladly have saved it.</p> + +<p>"<i>Though as by fire! Though as by fire!</i>" Often she had thought of that +prophecy since her marriage, when she had been forced day after day to +say with David:</p> + +<p>"They have spoken against me with a lying tongue.</p> + +<p>"They compassed me about with words of hatred, and fought against me +without cause.</p> + +<p>"For my love they are my adversaries, and they have rewarded me evil for +good, and hatred for my love."</p> + +<p>She was sitting alone one afternoon, and very weary and disconsolate +after a morning of petty slights, and unkind words, when Robert entered. +He was earlier than usual and more responsive to her smile of welcome.</p> + +<p>"I am so glad to see you, Robert, so glad! I did not expect you for an +hour."</p> + +<p>"The minister called on me this afternoon, and I returned to the city +with him. He wants you to sing, Dora, at the New Year's service. He is +going to preach from the first verse of the fourteenth of Job: 'Man that +is born of a woman is of few days and full of trouble.' He says the +sermon will necessarily be solemn and warning, so he wishes you to sing +something that lifts up the heart and looks hopefully forward."</p> + +<p>"Are you willing that I should sing, Robert?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I should like you to do so."</p> + +<p>"Then what could be better than Job's triumphant confession, '<i>I know +that my Redeemer liveth</i>'?"</p> + +<p>"That is the very thing! You sung it once in Sheffield. I have never +forgotten it."</p> + +<p>"Has your mother been told about my singing, '<i>O that I had wings like a +dove</i>'?"</p> + +<p>"No. I have never found a good opportunity to tell her. I knew she would +feel it much. As soon as you have settled the matter with the doctor, I +will tell her of both together."</p> + +<p>The next morning Dr. Robertson called to see Theodora, and was delighted +with her selection. He did not stay long, but Mrs. Campbell was deeply +offended because she was neither personally visited by him, nor yet +invited by Theodora to meet him in her parlor. The lunch table was made +a fiery furnace for her, and she had not the physical power to resist +the evil. Assailed by a sudden faintness, she was obliged to leave the +room.</p> + +<p>"Dora looks ill," said Christina.</p> + +<p>"She is always complaining lately. She had Dr. Fleming in the house +twice last week, had she not, Isabel?" Isabel sighed deeply, and +Christina absently nodded assent. She was counting the custard cups and +considering the best way to appropriate the one intended for Theodora.</p> + +<p>Jepson, however, had noticed the white face and unsteady steps of the +sick woman and assisted her to her own apartments. On his return he was +confronted by the angry face of his mistress. She laid down her knife +and fork with a clash and asked:</p> + +<p>"How dared you leave the room, Jepson? I hired you to wait on the Miss +Campbells and myself."</p> + +<p>"I thought Mrs. Campbell looked very ill, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"You are here to obey orders, not to think. And <i>I</i> am Mrs. Campbell, +the other is Mrs. Robert. Do you understand?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am."</p> + +<p>For some hours Theodora lay on the sofa in deep sleep, or in some other +form of oblivion. She came back to consciousness with the feeling of one +shipwrecked on a dark, desolate land, and after a little sobbing cry, +went upstairs to try and dress for dinner. A depressing anxiety, a +horror of the great darkness from which she had just returned was on +her, and as soon as her exhausting toilet was over, she went back to the +parlor, and lifting a book sat down at a small table with it in her +hand.</p> + +<p>Isabel, who was with her mother, heard both the ascent and descent, and +directed her attention to it. "Dora has been dressing for dinner," she +said. "Her sickness has not lasted long."</p> + +<p>"There was nothing the matter with her."</p> + +<p>"You are looking very well, mother, but I must change my gown. Why not +go and question Dora about the minister's visit? She ought to tell you +the why and the wherefore of it."</p> + +<p>"She <i>shall</i> tell me. I will make the inquiry at once."</p> + +<p>Theodora was sitting with her elbows on the small table, her head in her +hands and the open pages of the book below her heavy eyes, when the door +was imperiously opened and Mrs. Campbell entered.</p> + +<p>"You have got over your impromptu attack, I see, very readily."</p> + +<p>"I feel better than I did a few hours ago."</p> + +<p>"Why did Dr. Robertson call on you this morning?"</p> + +<p>"He called on business—not socially."</p> + +<p>"Money as usual, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"He did not name money."</p> + +<p>"Then what did he name?"</p> + +<p>"His business."</p> + +<p>"And what was his business?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell you—yet."</p> + +<p>"So you are the doctor's confidant! You are the doctor's adviser! You +are set up before me, about the doctor's business. You! You, indeed! +Have you argued the matter out with the devil, as to how far you can go +with a minister?"</p> + +<p>"I never argue with the devil. 'Get thee behind me' is enough for him."</p> + +<p>"I perfectly think scorn of you and your pretensions. I suppose the +doctor is trying to save your soul!"</p> + +<p>"My soul is saved."</p> + +<p>"You are an impertinent huzzy!"</p> + +<p>"I do not intend to be impertinent—and I do not deserve such a +contemptuous word as huzzy."</p> + +<p>"You are a fifty-fold huzzy! You are not reading. Lift your eyes and +look at me!"</p> + +<p>"I would rather not."</p> + +<p>"I say, look at me. Why do you keep your eyes dropped? Do you think +yourself beautiful in that attitude? You are full of tricks."</p> + +<p>Then Theodora lifted her eyes and looked steadily at her tormentor. They +were pleading and reproachful, and full of tears. "I should like to be +alone," she said slowly, "I am not well."</p> + +<p>"I wish to know the minister's business."</p> + +<p>"I must tell Robert first."</p> + +<p>"I must tell Robert first," cried Mrs. Campbell with mocking mimicry. +"Let me tell you, Robert would rather you never spoke to him! He wishes +you far away—he is sick of you, as I am—he is sorry he ever saw your +face."</p> + +<p>"I do not believe these things. Will you leave me? You are very +cruel—I have not deserved such abuse." Once more she dropped her eyes +on her book, but the letters were blurred and the solid earth seemed +reeling.</p> + +<p>"Give me that book and listen to what I say!"</p> + +<p>There was no answer.</p> + +<p>"Do you hear me? Give me that book."</p> + +<p>Theodora neither spoke nor moved, and in a tragic frenzy of passion Mrs. +Campbell seized the book and flung it to the other end of the room.</p> + +<p>With a shriek, shrill yet weak, Theodora tottered to where it lay with +its pages crumpled against the floor, and in the effort to lift the +volume she fell like one dead beside it.</p> + +<p>Then Ducie screamed for McNab and Jepson, and the two came hurrying in.</p> + +<p>"She flung the Bible across the room! She flung the Bible!"</p> + +<p>"Stop talking, Ducie, and help me get the dress of the poor lady +slackened. Jepson, run for Dr. Fleming."</p> + +<p>"I will if you say so, McNab."</p> + +<p>"Run awa', and don't stand there like a born idiot, then."</p> + +<p>"I will not have a doctor brought here," said Mrs. Campbell in +passionate tones. "I will not have one! There is no necessity for a +doctor. I say——"</p> + +<p>"Say nothing at all, ma'am. Do you ken it was the Bible you flung across +the room? What devil put it into your heart and hand to do the like o' +that unforgiveable sin? I'm feared to be in the room wi' you, mistress. +You'll never dare to pray again, you meeserable woman, you!"</p> + +<p>For a few minutes Mrs. Campbell was really shocked. She went to the +book, straightened out its leaves, and laid it on the table. "I did not +know it was the Bible, McNab," she said. "No one respects the Holy +Scriptures more than I do. I regret——"</p> + +<p>"The deed is done. There's nae good in respecting and regretting now. +Come here and help us to do what we can, till the doctor comes."</p> + +<p>"I will not. It is her fault. She would make an angel sin. I am +innocent, perfectly innocent. My God, what a tribulation the creature +is!"</p> + +<p>"I wouldna name God, if I was you," said McNab scornfully. "Maybe He'll +forget you, if you dinna remind Him o' your sinfu' self."</p> + +<p>"McNab, I give you notice to leave my house at once."</p> + +<p>"That is more like you, Mistress Campbell, but I'm not going out o' this +house till the master says so. I am his hired woman, not yours, thank +God! and I am not feared to speak the Holy Name, as you may well be. +Here's the doctor—thank God again for that mercy! You had better leave +the room, or you'll be getting the words you're well deserving, +mistress."</p> + +<p>"I shall stay just where I am."</p> + +<p>"You're a dour woman; you are that."</p> + +<p>Dr. Fleming entered as the last words were spoken. He brought with him +an atmosphere of help and strength, and barely glancing at Mrs. Campbell +he knelt down beside the sick woman. In a few moments he rose, and +calling Jepson, ordered him to "go to No. 400 Renfrew Street, and bring +back with him Jean Malcolm."</p> + +<p>"I cannot spare Jepson, doctor," said Mrs. Campbell. "It is nearly time +to serve dinner."</p> + +<p>"Do as I tell you, man, and be off at once. Don't waste a moment. Take a +cab."</p> + +<p>"Doctor——"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Campbell, this is a serious case. We have no time to think of +dinners. I fear there is a slight concussion of the brain."</p> + +<p>Then turning to McNab, he said: "There must be a mattress brought down +here, and I shall want two men to carry the patient upstairs. Have you +men in the house?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir, none worth the name o' men. I'll step over to the hotel and +get a couple o' their porters."</p> + +<p>"That will do."</p> + +<p>"Doctor, if there are any extraordinary arrangements to make, I am Mrs. +Traquair Campbell."</p> + +<p>"I know you, Mrs. Campbell. I have a very true knowledge of you."</p> + +<p>"Then, sir, give your orders to me. What do you wish?"</p> + +<p>"I wish you to leave the room. If your dinner is ready, you had better +eat it. I may want your man for some time."</p> + +<p>"Sir, you are rude. Will you remember this is my house?"</p> + +<p>"It is not your house. It is your son's house, and this lady, I take it, +is his wife. So then, it is her house."</p> + +<p>"Yes, she is my son's wife, more's the pity, more's the shame, more's +the sorrow——"</p> + +<p>"My God, woman! Have you no heart, no pity, no sense of duty to a sick +woman?" As he spoke he rose, and with an angry face and long strides +walked to the door and threw it wide open, uttering only one fierce +word: "<i>Go!</i>"</p> + +<p>A better and a more powerful spirit than her own gave this order, and +she perforce obeyed it; but when she reached the dining-room, she threw +herself on the sofa in a frantic passion.</p> + +<p>"I have been insulted," she cried. "I have been insulted shamefully. Oh, +Isabel! that woman will be the death of me!"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps she will die herself, mother. Ducie says she has hurt her brain +in falling—a concussion, she said."</p> + +<p>"Not a bad concussion, though——"</p> + +<p>"No, a slight one, but one never knows, and she is so excitable——"</p> + +<p>Thus they comforted each other until the porters arrived, and went +upstairs for the mattress. Their rough voices and heavy feet, and the +natural confusion attending their business roused Mrs. Campbell and her +daughters to a pitch of distraction, only to be relieved by motion and +loud talking. Walking up and down the room, and striking her large +cruel hands together, Mrs. Campbell was heard above all the confusion +attending the removal of Theodora; and in the midst of this confusion, +Robert came home.</p> + +<p>"Whatever is the matter, Jepson?" he asked in an angry voice.</p> + +<p>"The doctor will tell you, sir. I fear my young mistress is dying."</p> + +<p>He did not answer, but went rapidly to his rooms. They were in the +utmost disorder, the windows open and the rooms empty. He rushed +upstairs then, and Dr. Fleming met him at the door of Theodora's room.</p> + +<p>"Doctor, where is my wife? What is wrong?"</p> + +<p>"She had a long fainting fit, fell heavily, and has, I fear, slight +concussion of the brain."</p> + +<p>"What cause, what reason was there?"</p> + +<p>"Her maid will tell you. I will send her."</p> + +<p>"But I must see my wife first!"</p> + +<p>"You cannot. I shall stay here until I judge it safe to leave her. I +have sent for a competent nurse, and expect her every moment."</p> + +<p>"Surely, doctor—there is no fear—of death."</p> + +<p>"I should not like another lapse of consciousness."</p> + +<p>Robert did not speak. He steadied himself by grasping the baluster, and +the doctor left him, and sent out Ducie.</p> + +<p>"How did this happen, Ducie?" he asked.</p> + +<p>Then Ducie told him everything. She described the way her mistress was +sitting, and the entrance of Mrs. Campbell. She remembered the words, +and the tones in which the conversation had taken place, and the +inability of her mistress to answer the last two questions—the +snatching of the book from the table, and the flinging of it to the end +of the room, and after an emphatic pause she added: "The book was the +Bible, sir."</p> + +<p>Campbell had not spoken a word during Ducie's recital, but at her last +remark he started as if shocked, and then said: "You have told me the +truth, Ducie?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing but the truth. Ask Jepson."</p> + +<p>"I believe you. Go back to your mistress, and as soon as it is possible +tell her I was at the door but not allowed to enter."</p> + +<p>Then he went slowly downstairs, and the talking and exclamations ceased +sharply and suddenly when he entered the dining-room, for his face, and +his intentional silence, was like that which Isabel had not inaptly +compared to a black frost.</p> + +<p>After a short interval, during which he had frozen every one dumb, he +looked steadily at Mrs. Campbell and said:</p> + +<p>"Mother, I am amazed at what I hear."</p> + +<p>"You may well be amazed, Robert," was the answer. "I myself am nearly +distracted," and then she told her story, with much skill and all the +picturesque idioms she fell naturally into when under great emotion. Her +son listened to her as he had listened to Ducie, without question or +comment. He was trying to weigh everything justly, for justice was in +his opinion the cardinal virtue.</p> + +<p>"The dispute arose, then, concerning Dr. Robertson's visit to Theodora?" +he asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes. I had a right to know <i>why</i> he called, and she would not tell me."</p> + +<p>"Theodora had no right to tell you. Out of kindness the reason for his +visit had been kept from you. I will tell you now. He wished Theodora to +sing at the New Year's service, and he called to see what her selection +would be."</p> + +<p>"The organist ought to select the music, not Dora Campbell."</p> + +<p>"Allow me to finish. She chose '<i>I know that my Redeemer liveth</i>.'"</p> + +<p>He ceased speaking and took his place at the dinner table. "Order +dinner, Isabel," he added, in a quiet voice.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Campbell was speechless. She was stunned by anger and amazement. +Her lips trembled and her eyes filled with tears—a most extraordinary +exhibition of feeling in her. Isabel with a piteous look directed his +attention to her mother, and he said:</p> + +<p>"Take your chair, mother. I want my dinner. I have had a hard day. The +men at the works are quarrelling and going to strike. I did not require +extra quarrelling at home."</p> + +<p>"I cannot eat, Robert. I will not eat again in this house. I can laugh +at insults from strangers, but when my son connives with his English +wife to deceive me and make me humble myself before her, it is time I +went away—I don't care where to."</p> + +<p>"You have your own house at Saltcoats."</p> + +<p>"It is rented."</p> + +<p>Robert made no remark and the dinner went silently on. Just as it was +finished the doctor asked for Robert, and he left the room to see him. +"Your wife has fallen asleep," he said, "and, Campbell, you must see to +it that she is not awakened for anything less than a fire or an +earthquake." A short conversation followed, and after it Robert went +directly to the library.</p> + +<p>Greatly to his astonishment, his mother followed him there. He laid +aside his cigar, and placed a chair for her. She had now assumed the +only temper likely to influence him, and he was prepared to be amenable +to her plea before she made it.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry, Robert, that you have to bear this trouble. If it was only +me, I would not care. Are you going to turn me and your sisters out of +your house for that strange woman?"</p> + +<p>"That strange woman is my wife. God has told me to leave father and +mother, and cleave unto my wife."</p> + +<p>"It is very hard."</p> + +<p>"Let her alone, and she will not interfere with you."</p> + +<p>"Isabel and Christina know——"</p> + +<p>"Excuse me, she has been very kind and helpful to my sisters. She would +love you all if you would let her."</p> + +<p>"Her singing in the church——"</p> + +<p>"Was a great delight, even to you. We were silent about it, out of +kindness. I will not discuss that subject."</p> + +<p>"Where would you advise us to go?"</p> + +<p>"I do not advise you to go at all."</p> + +<p>"I could not live with your wife if she is going to faint every time she +quarrels with me."</p> + +<p>"Mother, I know all about your quarrel with Theodora. I have heard it +from Jepson and Ducie, and I know what the doctor thinks of it. Allow me +to say your conduct was inexcusable. I would not blame you before the +girls, but that is my opinion."</p> + +<p>"Her silence was so provoking, you don't know, Robert——"</p> + +<p>"I know that no provocation ought to have caused you to make the Bible +the missile of your temper. It was an impious act. I shudder at it."</p> + +<p>"I did not know it was the Bible."</p> + +<p>"Mother, a Bible is known on sight. No other book looks like it. No +form, no shape no color, can hide the Bible. There is a kind of divinity +in this personality of the Book. I have often thought so."</p> + +<p>"I shall sorrow for that act as long as I live, Robert. She made me do +it. Yes, she did!"</p> + +<p>"No, she did not."</p> + +<p>"Why was she reading the Bible at that hour of the day? If it had been +morning or night, I might have thought of it."</p> + +<p>"Theodora reads the Bible at all hours."</p> + +<p>"She does nothing like any one else."</p> + +<p>"Theodora is my wife. I love her. She suits me exactly."</p> + +<p>"And I and your sisters no longer suit you."</p> + +<p>"You are, as I said before, my mother and my sisters. You are Campbells. +That is enough."</p> + +<p>"And, blessed be our ancestors, we are a' pure Campbells! Your father +was o' the Argyle clan, and I was o' the Cawdor clan, but whether +Argyle, Cawdor, Breadalbane, or Laudon, we are a' Campbells. We a' wear +the wild myrtle and we hae a' the same battle-cry, '<i>Wild Cruachan!</i>' +and we a' hae hated and loved the same folk and the same things, and +even if I had nae ither claim on yen, I would only require to say, +'Robert Campbell, Margaret Campbell is needing ye.'"</p> + +<p>"You are my mother. That claim includes all claims."</p> + +<p>"Doubly dear for being a Campbell mother."</p> + +<p>"Yes. I am glad and proud of that fact."</p> + +<p>Then she stretched out her hand, and he clasped and held it firmly, as +he walked with her to the door.</p> + +<p>"Good-night, mother!" he said. "I must go to Dora now. We will drop this +day out of our memories."</p> + +<p>Stepping proudly to the lilt of her Campbell eulogy, she went to her +daughters with flashing eyes and a kindling face, and after a few +moments of thrilling silence said:</p> + +<p>"I hae got my way, girls, by the name o' the Campbells. <i>Dod!</i> but it's +the great name! It unlocked his heart like a pass-key—yet I had to +stoop a wee. I had to stoop in order to conquer."</p> + +<p>"Mother, you always manage Robert."</p> + +<p>"I ne'er saw the man I couldna manage, that is, if he was a sober man; +but I'll tak' the management out o' her—see if I don't. I'll mak' her +eat the humble pie she baked for me—I'll hae the better o' the English +huzzy yet—I'll sort her, when I get the right time. I can do naething +o' an extreme nature just yet. It has been a calamitous day, girls, +morning and night. Now, go awa' to your ain rooms, I be to think the +circumstances weel over."</p> + +<p>"Mother, you are a wonderful woman," said Christina.</p> + +<p>"Also a very discreet woman," added Isabel.</p> + +<p>And the old lady walked to the sideboard, filled a glass with wine, +lifted it upwards, and nodding to her daughters, said in a low but +triumphant voice:</p> + +<p>"<i>Here's to the Campbells! Wha's like us?</i>"</p> + +<p>At the same moment Robert Campbell was stepping proudly upstairs with a +heart full of racial pride. He had forgotten the ironworks. He was a +Campbell of the Argyle clan, he was kin to all the Breadalbanes, and +Cawdors, and Loudons. He was a Campbell, and all the glory of the large +and powerful family was his glory. At that moment he heard the dirl of +the bagpipes and felt the rough beauty of the thistle, and knew in his +heart of hearts, that he was a son of Scotland, an inheritor of all her +passions and traditions, her loves and her hatreds, and glad and proud +to be so favored.</p> + +<p>But even at this critical hour of his wife's life, he could not be much +blamed, for <i>all is race</i>. There is no other truth, because it includes +all others.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<h3>THE NAMING OF THE CHILD</h3> + + +<p>It was four weeks before Theodora could leave her room, and for long +afterwards she was an invalid. But in her sickness she had peace, and +the solacing company of her friends, Mrs. Robertson and Mrs. Oliphant; +and as the winter passed her health and strength and beauty returned to +her. This renewed vitality was indeed so certain that the announcement +of the Easter services contained a promise that Mrs. Campbell would sing +some suitable solo.</p> + +<p>At the breakfast table on Easter Sunday, Robert Campbell spoke of this +event to his family.</p> + +<p>"Theodora will sing at this morning's service, mother," he said.</p> + +<p>"The minister has already made fuss enough about the circumstance. There +is no necessity for you to go over the news."</p> + +<p>"I think you had better not go to church this morning."</p> + +<p>"I assure you I intend to go—for your sake. And am I to be denied the +comfort of my Easter sermon, because of a song which I shall not listen +to?"</p> + +<p>"Please yourself. This time you have been warned."</p> + +<p>"I shall do my duty, that always pleases me. And I need no warnings. I +am not a creature made of nerves and fancies. I am afraid of no woman."</p> + +<p>"Christina, as you are so fond of music, Theodora will take you with her +to the organ-loft if you wish."</p> + +<p>"O, brother, how happy I shall be!"</p> + +<p>"Christina Campbell, you will sit decently in our own pew with your +sister and myself."</p> + +<p>"Poor Christina!" said Robert, and he laid his hand kindly on her +shoulder as he passed.</p> + +<p>"Poor Robert! Say that, and you say the truth," answered Mrs. Campbell.</p> + +<p>It was a glorious day, the church and even the aisles were crowded and +the doctor preached the finest sermon of his long pastorate. His tall, +stately form, his piercing eyes, his thin face—austere but tender—were +never so immediate and so solemnly authoritative, and every heart +thrilled as in a grand resonant voice he cried:</p> + +<p>"<i>Now is Christ risen from the dead, and become the firstfruits of them +that slept.</i>"</p> + +<p>His preaching was usually logical, invasive, not to be forgotten, but +this morning all he said was vitalized by his own lively, living faith. +He had caught the very spirit of Paul, and was carried by it far beyond, +and above all arguments and sequences, until his glowing climax could +find no grander words than:</p> + +<p>"<i>Now is Christ risen from the dead, and become the firstfruits of them +that slept.</i>"</p> + +<p>To these words he emphatically closed the Testament, and there were a +few moments of profound, sensitive silence. Then, like a lark mounting +heaven-ward, Theodora burst into the triumphant melody:</p> + +<p>"<i>I know that my Redeemer liveth!</i>"</p> + +<p>It was an angelic "Amen" to that old sanguine assurance, which possesses +so immovably the heart of humanity. The ecstasy of hope, the surety of +faith, the glory of man's destiny filled with unspeakable joy the whole +building, and many of the reverent souls in it had momentary experience +of</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"<i>That freer step, that fuller breath,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>That wide horizon's grander view,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>That sense of life that knows no death,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>That life that maketh all things new.</i>"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>For the singer had filled every note of the immortal music with her own +beautiful, happy soul, and the congregation—old and young—went to +their homes loving her.</p> + +<p>Robert's heart burned within him, for while sharing the enthusiasm of +the crowd he had also his personal delight in the knowledge that this +dear, clever woman was his wife, and that she loved him. He went to the +foot of the gallery stairs and waited there for her. He clasped her hand +and looked into her face with beaming eyes as the elders and deacons +gathered round her with eloquent thanks, and all the way home he forgot +every one but Theodora.</p> + +<p>A few days after Easter Sunday, Robert came home earlier than usual, +but he entered his wife's presence with such a pleasant countenance, +that she rose smiling and went to meet him.</p> + +<p>"I have come to tell you something I hope will please you, Dora," he +said. "Mr. Oliphant has taken a furnished villa at Inverkip, and there +is another to let a few hundred yards distant. Inverkip is so near +Glasgow, I could run down to you frequently—always on Friday or +Saturday until Monday. What do you say, if I take the vacant villa?"</p> + +<p>"O, Robert, I should be delighted!"</p> + +<p>"Then I will hire it for the season, and you can have your piano and +books and what other things you wish easily shipped there. Consult Mrs. +Oliphant, she will advise you just what to do."</p> + +<p>"Dear Robert, you make me more happy than I can tell."</p> + +<p>"And the Oliphants will be delighted you are going to be near them. +There may be some nice families there, and it is not unlikely Dr. +Robertson will be of the number."</p> + +<p>All came to pass like a wish, and early in April Theodora was +comfortably settled at Inverkip, and the Oliphants and Dr. Robertson +soon followed her. Inverkip was hardly a fashionable summer resort, but +it was pleasant and secluded, and also beautifully situated—facing +Inellen, and the slopes of Cowal, with a fine background of mountains.</p> + +<p>After a winter in dark, wet, bitter Glasgow, the country in April was +like Paradise. Robert went down with her one lovely Friday, Ducie and +two other servants, with such furniture and ornaments as they thought +necessary, having preceded them nearly a week. So the villa was in +comparative order and a perfect little dinner awaited them. Theodora +experienced a child's enchantment; her simple, eager surprise, her deep +sense of the wonder and beauty of the brooding spring, and her +delightful expression of it, went to Robert's heart. For her tender eyes +were laughing with boundless good humor, her lips parted as if forced to +speak by the inner fulness of her happy heart, and he saw in her</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">—"<i>a soul</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Joying to find itself alive,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Lord over Nature, lord of the visible earth,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Lord of the senses five.</i>"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"There is even a taste of green things in the air, Robert," she said; +"and look at the trees! They are misty with buds and plumes, and tufts +and tassels; and the larches and pines are whispering like a thousand +girls. O, it is heavenly! And listen to the waters running and leaping +down the mountains! It is a tongue of life in the lonely places," and as +she passed the open piano, she stood still, touched a few notes, and +sang in a captivating, simple manner:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"<i>O the springtime! the springtime!</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Who does not know it well?</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>When the little birds begin to build,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>And the buds begin to swell,</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>When the sun and the clouds play hide and seek,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>And the lambs are softly bleating;</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>And the color mounts to the maiden's cheek,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>At her lover's tender greeting,—</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>In the springtime, in the joyous springtime.</i>"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Then Robert stayed her simple song, saying: "Let us go and walk in the +garden while I smoke my cigar." And she went gladly, and they walked and +talked together until the soft gray afternoon was verging to purple and +red on the horizon.</p> + +<p>That night her heart was too full of hope and sweet content to let her +sleep. She had not been as happy for many months. She had not been as +hopeful. She told herself this detached life was all that was required +to secure Robert's affection, and that six months of it would make him +impatient of any intrusion into the sacredness of his home. And she was +full of sweet, innocent plans to increase and settle certainly and +firmly the treasure of his love. They kept her waking, so she rose long +before morning, and, opening a casement, looked out into the dusky night +full of stars. She sat there, watching Nature in those ineffable moments +when she is dreaming, until the cold white light of the dawning showed +her the waning moon blue in the west.</p> + +<p>The next day Robert went fishing, and Theodora put in order the china, +crystal, and fine damask, and the books and ornaments she had brought +down to Inverkip. Robert praised what she had done, vowing she would +make the best of housekeepers; and the evening and the next day were +altogether full of love and sweet content.</p> + +<p>Then Robert went back to Glasgow and business, and Mr. and Mrs. Oliphant +and Dr. Robertson's family arrived. The young wife visited and helped +her friends, and they spent long, pleasant evenings at each other's +houses. Theodora said to herself: "Things are not going as badly with me +as I thought, and I wonder if we ever know if bad is bad, or good is +good."</p> + +<p>Many happy weeks followed this initial one and Theodora was grateful for +every pleasant hour, for she was facing the trial and the glory of +maternity and she wished her child's prenatal influences to be favorable +on every side. The social life of Inverkip could not in its present +conditions be called fashionable, and that was a good thing, for few +women can go into fashionable society without catching its fashionable +insanity, whatever it may be at the time. Theodora spent many quiet, +delightful hours with her friends the Oliphants and Robertsons, but her +chief pleasure she took from the hand of Nature.</p> + +<p>Every fine day she was up among the great hills, and it is a bad heart +that is not purified by walking on them. She was passionately fond of +birds, and had the power to attract them to her. Morning and evening she +fed at her dining-room window</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"<i>The bird that man loves best,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>The pious bird with scarlet breast,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i4"><i>The little English robin.</i>"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>They crowded the sweet briar bush that grew beside the window, and +praised and thanked her in the sweetest songs mortal ever heard. The +blue cushat's "croodle" and its mournful love monologue moved her to +sympathetic tears. She was sure the pretty faithful creature had a +forgetful, or unkind mate. The swallows cradling themselves in the air, +and chattering so amiably; the tiny wren's quick, short song; the fond +and faithful bullfinch couples; the honest, respectable thrushes; the +pilfering blackbirds; the nightingale's solemn music in the night; the +lark's velvety, supple, indefatigable song in the early morning—these, +and many more of the winged voices of the firmament, she understood; but +to the humble, poorly-clad lark, she gave an ardent affection. To her it +was a bird of heaven, living on love and light, singing for half-an-hour +without a second's pause, rising vertically a thousand yards as she +sang, without losing a note, and sending earthward exquisite waterfalls +of song.</p> + +<p>In this sane and peaceful life, month after month went onward +delightfully, while she waited in the fulness of health and hope for the +child which God would give her. During these months Robert also had been +happy. Now and then there had been invasions of the lower man, but in +the main he was joyous and amiable, thoughtful for her comfort, and +delighted to share all her hopes and pleasures. He had insisted on his +mother and sisters going to the Bridge of Allan for the summer months, +had given Jepson and Mrs. McNab holiday, and practically closed the +Glasgow house until September. And he had found Inverkip so pleasant, +that he was even more with Theodora than his promise demanded.</p> + +<p>One day near the end of July Mrs. McNab came to Inverkip and called on +Theodora, who was delighted to see her. In a few minutes she began to +take off her bonnet and shawl. "I hae been thinking things o'er," she +said, "and I hae made up my mind to stay wi' you the next four +weeks—for there's nane that I can see about this house fit to take my +place—a wheen lilting lasses, tee-heeing and giggling as if life was a +dance-hall."</p> + +<p>"They are nice, good girls, McNab."</p> + +<p>"They may be, but they are flighty and nervous, and they hae no +experience. I am going to take care o' you and the house mysel'. When +you are sick——"</p> + +<p>"McNab, I am in splendid health."</p> + +<p>"That's a' right. Splendid health you have, and splendid health you will +require, and some one to keep people out o' the house that arena wanted +near it. I am not going awa', so you needna speak the word. Is your ain +mother coming to you?"</p> + +<p>"She cannot. They will have to move next month."</p> + +<p>"Weel, then, you arena to be fretted wi' any other mother, and it will +take an extraordinar' woman—like mysel'—to be all you want, and to +fend off all you don't want. I am gey fond o' newborn babies—poor wee +things, shipwrecked on a cold, bad world—and if there isna some +sensible kind-hearted body wi' your bairn, they will be trying their +auld world tricks wi' it. I shall stay here and see the bonnie wee thing +isna left to their mercy."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean? You frighten me, McNab."</p> + +<p>"I mean, that if the bairn is left to any auld-farrant nurse, she will +wash it in whiskey as soon as it comes into the world, and there is nae +doubt in my mind, that the spirit isna pleasant to the tender skin o' +the poor wean."</p> + +<p>"Oh, McNab! what a dreadful custom!"</p> + +<p>"Weel, it is an auld, auld custom, and though some are giving it up, +there are mair that stick to it. If Mrs. Traquair Campbell should be +here, I'm feared the whiskey bottle would be gey close to the washbowl. +And you wouldna like it."</p> + +<p>"I would not permit it."</p> + +<p>"How would you help it? Tell me that. The only time you managed that +woman you had to nearly die to do it, and I'm not clear that you got the +better o' her then."</p> + +<p>"She will not be here, McNab. She will not be asked."</p> + +<p>McNab snapped her fingers. "'Asked,' is it? She will walk into this +house as if it was her ain. 'It is my son's house,' she will say, and +then she'll proceed to use her son's house as if the de'il had sent her +to destroy everything that belongs to other folk; and day and night +she'll make quarrelling and misery. That's Mrs. Traquair Campbell's way, +and the hale o' her brood is like her."</p> + +<p>"Now, McNab, you know Mr. Robert Campbell is very different. You must +not speak ill of my husband."</p> + +<p>"No, ma'am. There's two Robert Campbells. Ane o' them is weel worth the +love you're giving him; the other is like the auld man that tormented +the Saints themsel's. He'll get kicked out some day, nae doubt o' it."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Campbell told me he had given you a holiday until the first of +September. He spoke very well of you."</p> + +<p>"I have had mair holiday than I want now."</p> + +<p>"Where were you?"</p> + +<p>"I was in Edinburgh, seeing the world and the ways o' it."</p> + +<p>"What did you think of the world and its ways?"</p> + +<p>"I dinna think them fit to talk about. I'll go now, and give things a +bit sort up. I'll warrant them requiring the same."</p> + +<p>So McNab got—or rather took—her way, and soon after appeared in the +kitchen in her large white mutch and apron. "Now, lasses," she said in +her most commanding manner, "I am come here on a special invite to keep +you and the house in order during the tribulation o' the mistress. But +you'll find me a pleasant body to live wi', if you behave yoursel's and +let the lads alane. If you don't, you will find you have got to do wi' +the Mischief."</p> + +<p>"The lads, ma'am?" said a smart young lassie; "the lads! We have not a +particle o' use for them—auld or young."</p> + +<p>"What's your name?"</p> + +<p>"Maggie."</p> + +<p>"Weel, Maggie, you are a sensible lass, and you may now make Mistress +McNab—that's mysel'—a cup o' tea, and if there's a slice o' cold beef +or a bit o' meat pie in the house——"</p> + +<p>"There's neither meat nor pie in the house."</p> + +<p>"Then, Maggie, gie me a rizzard haddie wi' my tea. I'm easy pleased +except wi' dinner. A good dinner is a fixed fact wi' me, and when I've +had a cup o' tea I'll feel mair like Flora McNab. At the present hour, +I'm fagged and wastered, and requiring a refreshment. That's sure!"</p> + +<p>At first Theodora did not feel satisfied with McNab's gratuitous offer +of service, but Robert quickly made her so. "I am delighted," he said. +"I have known the woman ever since I can remember. She stood by my +father in his long sickness as faithfully as she stands by you. I can +never be uneasy about my wife if McNab is with her."</p> + +<p>So McNab took the place she had chosen, and the house was soon aware of +her presence. There were more economy, better meals, perfect discipline, +and a refreshing sense of peace and order. For she had a rare power of +ruling, and also of making those ruled pleased to be so. Thus, for two +weeks, Theodora had a sense of pause and rest that was strengthening +both to the inner and outer woman. Then in the secret silence of the +midnight, her fear was turned into joy, for McNab laid her first-born +son in her arms and Robert knelt at her side, his heart brimming with +love and thanksgiving. And had he fully realized the blessing given, he +would have known it was, Thy Kingdom come, from the cradle.</p> + +<p>Surely this great event would make all things new! This was Theodora's +constant thought and hope, and for a while it seemed to do so. But the +readiness with which we come to accept rare and great blessings as +customary is one of the most common and ungrateful of our blasphemies +against the Father from whom all blessings flow. And very soon the +beautiful babe became as usual as the other everyday incidents of life, +to all excepting his mother and McNab. Robert, indeed, was fond and +proud of him, and as long as they remained in Inverkip the little fellow +was something new that belonged to himself in a manner wonderful and +satisfying.</p> + +<p>But with the return of the family to Glasgow, the child lost the charm +of the Inverkip environment. In Traquair House he received even from his +father only the Campbell affection, which had no enthusiasms, no baby +talk, no petting, no foolish admirations. It was almost impossible for +the mother to accept this change of attitude with nonchalance, or even +cheerfulness. She could not withstand the influence of the dull, gray +house, and the toiling, moiling, money-grabbing city, though she felt +intuitively that the influence of both was inimical to her domestic +happiness. For the house was impregnated with the Campbell personality, +so much so that the very apparatus of their daily life had become +eloquent of the moods of those they ministered to; and Theodora often +felt as if the sofas and chairs in their rooms resented her use of them.</p> + +<p>A prepossession of this kind was an unhappy one, and easily affiliated +itself with the spirit of the house, which was markedly a quarrelsome +spirit. Nurtured and indulged for more than two generations, it had +become an inflexible, almost an invincible one. All Theodora's smiling +efforts, all her charms and entreaties had failed to conciliate, or even +appease its grudging resentment. It was a piteous thing that the first +trouble after her return to Glasgow, should be concerning the child. +Robert had been pleased by the assurance of his friends in Inverkip that +his son resembled him in an extraordinary manner. He was himself sure of +this resemblance, though Theodora could only see "that difference in +sameness" often enough pronounced between fathers and sons.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Campbell scouted the idea. She said: "The child had not a single +Campbell feature or trait. He did not even suck his tongue, a trick all +the Campbell babies had, as McNab knew right well. And she understood +there had not been a single Campbell in the room when he was born—an +important and significant mistake that never could be rectified. She +could only say, and she always would say, that the boy was Theodora's +child."</p> + +<p>"I hope he is," answered Robert, who was nettled by the criticism. "He +cannot do better than take after his mother in every way."</p> + +<p>"And I am fairly shocked, Robert," she continued, "that the +child—who's ever it is—hasna yet been baptized. Seven weeks old and +not baptized! I never heard the like. My children were covenanted +Christians before they were two weeks old. It was my first thought for +them."</p> + +<p>"Well, mother, we wanted to be quite sure of the name. A boy's name +means much to him when he becomes a man."</p> + +<p>"There is but one name proper for the child, that is his grandfather's."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean Traquair?" asked Robert.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Traquair—a fine family name."</p> + +<p>Theodora looked entreatingly at Robert, and he understood her dissent +and shared it.</p> + +<p>"Mother," he answered, "I have a great objection to Traquair."</p> + +<p>"Objection! Pray, why?"</p> + +<p>"It was not a fortunate name for my father. It is not a good business +name."</p> + +<p>"My father was a Traquair, and he made a great deal of money."</p> + +<p>"Your father was called Donald Traquair. That is different. Traquair is +a good family name, but it is not a good Christian name."</p> + +<p>"We could call him Donald," said Theodora. "Donald is a good name, +though I think Robert likes David best of all."</p> + +<p>"David!" ejaculated Mrs. Campbell with anger. "I will have no David +Campbells in this house! I will not suffer my grandson to be called +David. It was like you to propose it."</p> + +<p>"I thought it would please you. I am quite willing my son should be +called David."</p> + +<p>"I think David is a very good name," said Robert, but his opinion was +given with that over-decision which cowardice assumes when it forces +itself to assertion.</p> + +<p>"To have a David Campbell in the house will be a great annoyance to me," +continued Mrs. Campbell. "It will be enough to make me hate the child."</p> + +<p>Then Theodora left the room. She felt that the argument had gone as far +as it was likely to be reasonable. In a short time Robert followed her +and his face wore a look of vexation and perplexity.</p> + +<p>"Have you decided on the name yet, Robert?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Why not call him after yourself?"</p> + +<p>"Because in the course of time I should likely be compelled to write +'senior' after my own name. I do not care to look forward to that. +Mother has set her mind on Traquair."</p> + +<p>"It is the only Scotch name I object to. It has not one noble +association. If you say Robert, you think of Robert Bruce, and Robert +Burns, and a score of other great men. Call him Donald, or Dugald, or +Duncan, or Angus, or Hector, or Alexander, they are all Christian names +and will not subject the little lad when he goes among the boys and men, +to mockery. Traquair will give them two objectionable nicknames—Tray, +which is a dog's name, and Quair will easily slip into queer. Think of +it—Tray Campbell, or Queer Campbell. It will not do, Robert."</p> + +<p>"No. Traquair will not do. It will not do."</p> + +<p>"There is one good reason for not calling the child Robert, not the +'senior' reason at all. I want you to keep and make famous your own +name. You are really a good natural orator. I noticed your speech, and +its delivery at Dr. Robertson's dinner, when we were at Inverkip. It was +the best speech made. It was finely delivered. You are rich and going to +be richer; why not cultivate your gift, and run for Parliament? No one +can put political views into a more sensible and eloquent speech than +Robert Campbell."</p> + +<p>"I think you overrate my abilities, Dora," replied Robert, but he spoke +with a kind of musing satisfaction.</p> + +<p>"No, you could become a good speaker, and if you wish, I am sure you may +write M. P. after your name. Why not decide on David? You love your big +brother yet. You never speak of him without emotion. He will come back +to you, I am sure. And how proud you will be to say: 'I never forgot +you, David. I called my first-born son after you.'"</p> + +<p>"You are right, Dora, you are right. The boy's name is David. I have +said it and it shall be so. Mother must give way. She must remember for +once, that we have some feelings and prejudices as well as herself."</p> + +<p>At that moment Ducie entered with the child, and Theodora took him in +her arms and said: "Ducie, the baby is to be called David." Then she +kissed the name on his lips and he opened his blue eyes and smiled at +her.</p> + +<p>The next Sabbath the child was solemnly baptized David, and Robert +entered his name in the large family Bible, which had been the first +purchase he made for his home after Theodora had accepted him.</p> + +<p>But in neither ceremony did Mrs. Traquair Campbell take any part. She +did not go to church, and when Robert asked her to come into his parlor +and see the entry of her grandson's name in the Book, she refused. All +of the household were present but the infant's grandmother and aunts; +and all blessed the child as Theodora put him a moment into the arms of +the women present. McNab kissed him, and made a kind of apology for the +act, saying she "never could help kissing a boy baby, since she was a +baby hersel', and even if it were a girl baby a bit bonnie, she whiles +fell easy into the same infirmity."</p> + +<p>In this case Theodora gained her desire, and some will say she gained it +by flattering her husband. It would be fairer to say by <i>admiring</i> her +husband. A wise wife knows that in domestic diplomacies, admiration is a +puissant weapon. In a great many cases it is better than love. Men are +not always in the mood to be loved, their minds may be busy with things +naturally antagonistic to love; and to show a warmth that is not shared +is a grave mistake. But all men are responsive to admiration. It +succeeds where reasoning and arguing and endearments fail. For the +person admired feels that he is believed in, and trusted. He has nothing +to explain and nothing to justify, and this attitude makes the wheels of +the household run smoothly.</p> + +<p>Is then Theodora to be blamed? If so, there are an unaccountable number +of women, yesterday, to-day, and forever, in the same fault. It would be +safe to say there is not a happy household in the land where the wives +and mothers do not use many such small hypocrisies. Is there any wife +reading this sentence, who has not often made a pleasant evening for her +whole family, by a few admiring or sympathizing words? For though a +woman will go through hard work and distracting events without praise or +sympathy, a man cannot. If admiration and kindness fail him, he flies to +the black door of oblivion by drink, or drugs, or a pistol shot. A man +with a wife whose sympathy and admiration can be relied on, is never +guilty of that sin. Is there a good wife living who has not pretended +interest in subjects she really cares nothing about; who has not +listened to the same stories a hundred times, and laughed every time; +who does not in some way or other, violate her own likes or dislikes, +tastes or opinions every day in the week in order to induce a household +atmosphere which it will be pleasant to live in?</p> + +<p>This is not the place to discuss the ethics of this universal custom. +Women, with reckless waste have always flung themselves into the +domestic gulf. They choose to throw away their own happiness in order to +make others happy, forgetting too often that <i>they who injure themselves +shall not be counted innocent</i>.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<h3>THE NEW CHRISTINA</h3> + + +<p>Home is not ruined in a day, and it is wonderful what rack and strain +and tugging the marriage tie will bear ere it snaps asunder. For three +years and a half after the birth of the child, Theodora was subjected to +an unwearying hostility, always finding fresh reasons for complaint and +injustice. And it was a cruel symptom of this intentional malice, that +it took as its usual vehicle, little David. He could do nothing right. +Baby as he was, his grandmother found him to be a child of many sinful +proclivities. She was never weary of pointing out his faults. "He looked +so vulgarly English, he had no Scotch burr in his speech; he walked +wrong, he made her peaceful home a Bedlam of crying and shouting. He was +naturally rude, he would scarcely answer his aunts if they spoke to him; +and if she herself but came near him, he ran away and hid himself in his +mother's arms. He was also shockingly fond of low company. He could not +be coaxed into her room, but was never out of the kitchen; and one day +she had found him sitting on the pastry table, watching McNab make the +tarts." At this charge Robert smiled and asked:</p> + +<p>"Why does not Ducie keep him out of the kitchen? She ought to do so."</p> + +<p>"She likes to be there herself. I think it would be well to send her +back to Kendal at once. There is no necessity for a nurse now, and the +boy ought to be learning how to care for himself—you did so before you +were his age. And really, Robert, keeping a maid for Dora is a most +unnecessary expense; it also makes a great deal of trouble among the +house-servants. The girl is always quarrelling with them about her +mistress, and pitying them about their mistress. I fancy Dora makes an +equal of her."</p> + +<p>"That is not Dora's way, mother. And the girl is not only a nurse, she +attends to our rooms also."</p> + +<p>"The house chambermaid could do that."</p> + +<p>"Could she do it the first thing in the morning?"</p> + +<p>"Do you think Dora's rooms ought to be attended to before mine?"</p> + +<p>"Dora likes them to be put in order early, and I am willing to pay for +her wish."</p> + +<p>"More fool you! I dare be bound, she cleaned her own room before you +married her."</p> + +<p>"If she had married Lord Thurson, instead of me, he would have given her +a dozen maids had she wished them."</p> + +<p>"Do you think I believe that romancing about Lord Thurson? I am not such +a born idiot. You cannot persuade me, that two men in the world wanted +to marry Dora Newton. <i>Hout, tout!</i> Men are feckless enough, but not +that crazy."</p> + +<p>Such conversations as this occurred usually in the library after dinner +where Mrs. Campbell now made a point of visiting her son. For this end, +she had conquered her dislike both of the room and his tobacco, and +there she carried all the small gossip and worries of the household. And +Robert soon began to enjoy this visit, and the tale-bearing suspicions +and arguments that enlivened it. It pleased him to feel that he knew all +that was going on in the house, and he also liked to know whether +Theodora had been out or not, whether she had dressed for calling or +walking, and, if she had not left the house, how she had been occupied, +what callers she had had, and how many letters she had received. He was +not even averse to knowing the post-office stamps of these letters.</p> + +<p>And when men indulge this petty weakness, they soon learn to enjoy its +humbling cruelties and its mean triumphs, hardly considering that under +such a disintegrating process all domestic happiness crumbles inwardly +away. Thus Robert grew indifferent to the woman he so pitilessly +analyzed, and fell gradually into the godless, thankless quiescence of +getting used to happiness. It was then easy to regard what had once been +a miraculous blessing as a thing monotonous and commonplace.</p> + +<p>With Theodora, he had now little companionship. He had ceased to consult +her about anything, they neither wept nor rejoiced together, they did +not even quarrel, and no legal bill of divorce could have more +effectually separated them than did this moral divorce, in which there +was neither disputing nor forgiveness. But though Theodora consented to +this evil condition outwardly, as a form of sacrifice for David's sake, +inwardly she knew it to be overcome. She bore it cheerfully, despised +its power, and ignored as much as possible its presence.</p> + +<p>Had she been left to herself she must have broken down under the +unceasing tension, but constantly visited by the <i>not herself</i>, she +lifted up her head, and when urged too fiercely, walked her lonely room +with God, and dared to tell Him all the sorrow in her heart. Her +disappointment had been dreadful, but God's pity had touched the great +mistake, and she was now waiting as patiently and cheerfully as possible +for the finality sure to come.</p> + +<p>So far she had hid her wrongs and her disillusions in her heart; not +even to her parents had she complained. The heart-breaking cruelties +from which she suffered were not recognized by the law, and they were +screened from the world by the closed doors of domestic life. So she had +bowed both her heart and her head, and was dumb to every one but her +Maker. He alone knew her in those days of utter desolation, when her +wronged and wounded soul retired from all earthly affections to that +Eternal Love always waiting our hour of need.</p> + +<p>At this time it was the once snubbed and depressed Christina who +dominated Traquair House. From her first interview with Theodora, she +had resolved to become like her. With patient zeal she had studied and +acquired whatever Theodora had recommended. And quickly divining the +bent of her intellectual faculties, Theodora had educated that bent to +perfection. The correct technique of the piano was already known to +Christina, but Theodora directed it into its proper channel of +expression, and showed her how to put a soul into her playing and +singing. She found for her the most delicate and humorous portions of +literature, and taught her how to recite them. She made her free of all +the secrets of beautiful dressing, and urged her to do justice to her +person; until very gradually the commonplace Christina had flowered into +an attractive woman.</p> + +<p>In the third year of Theodora's married life Christina had begun to +dress herself with a rich and almost fastidious elegance, and, as +frequently happens, she put on with her fine clothing a certain amount +of genius and authority. No one snubbed her now, for she had made a +distinct place for herself in the special set the Traquair Campbells +affected—the rich religious set—and her definite and agreeable +accomplishments caused her to be eagerly sought for every entertainment +in that set. She had begun to have admirers, flowers were sent to her +and gentlemen called upon her, and she received invitations from them to +concerts, lectures, and such national and therefore correct plays, as +<i>Rob Roy</i> and <i>Macbeth</i>. This social admiration developed her +self-appreciation and self-reliance to a wonderful extent. She was no +longer afraid of any member of her family, and they were secretly very +proud of her.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Campbell talked of her daughter's social triumphs constantly. "Your +sister is the belle of every occasion, Robert," she said to her son. +"She has as many as five and six callers every day; she has been named +in the papers as 'the lovely and accomplished Miss Christina Campbell'; +she has numerous lovers to tak' her choice o', and tell me, my lad, +whaur's your Theodora now!" She tossed her head triumphantly to the +scornful laugh with which she asked the question.</p> + +<p>"Mother, you know that Dora has made Christina all she is. Be honest, +and confess that."</p> + +<p>"'Deed I will not. The beauty and the talents were a' in the lassie. +Dora may have said a word now and then, and showed her a thing or two, +here and there, but the gifts were Christina's, and the lassie's ain +patient wark has brought them to their perfection. That's a crowned +truth and I'll suffer no contradiction to it. We shall have to order her +wedding feast vera soon. I have not a doubt o' that."</p> + +<p>"I hope she will have the sense not to overlook the baronet in her train +of admirers."</p> + +<p>"You're meaning Sir Thomas Wynton?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. He is quite in the mind to buy a handsome share in the works, and +his name and money would be a great thing for us. I intend to bring him +here to dinner to-morrow. Tell Christina I am looking to her to bring +him into the family, and into the works."</p> + +<p>"I'll be no such fool, Robert Campbell. I shall say nothing anent Sir +Thomas, save the particular fact of his coming here to dinner. Little +you know o' women, if you think any lassie can be counselled to marry +the man she ought to marry."</p> + +<p>"Take your own way with her, mother, but mind this—the securing of Sir +Thomas Wynton will be a special providence for the Campbells. He has one +hundred thousand pounds to invest, and I cannot bear to think of him +carrying all that capital anywhere but to the Campbell furnaces."</p> + +<p>"I'll manage it. Never fear, Robert, Christina shall be my lady +Christina and you shall have the Wynton siller to trade with. It will be +a righteous undertaking for me, for it is fairly sinful in Sir Thomas, +hiding his hundred thousand talents—as it were—in a napkin. A bank is +no better than a napkin; money is just folded away in it; and money is +made round that it may roll. The Campbell works will set the hundred +thousand pieces rolling and gathering more, and more, and still more. +<i>Losh!</i> it makes me tremble to think of them going out o' the Campbell +road. That would be an unthinkable calamity."</p> + +<p>"If you can manage it, mother, it——"</p> + +<p>"'If'—there's no 'if' in the matter." She smiled and nodded, and seemed +so sure of success, that Robert found it difficult to refrain himself +from making certain calculations, dependent upon a larger capital.</p> + +<p>The next day at noon Mrs. Campbell remarked in a tone of inconvenience, +or household discomfort: "I believe, girls, your brother is going to +bring Sir Thomas Wynton home with him to-night. I am fairly wearied of +the man's name."</p> + +<p>"He is a very fine gentleman, mother," said Christina.</p> + +<p>"He is auld, and auld-farrant."</p> + +<p>"He is not over forty-five, and he is far from being old-fashioned. He +is up to the nick of the times in everything."</p> + +<p>"Your brother never thinks of any manly quality but money. He says Sir +Thomas is rich. I wouldn't wonder if he has only the name o' riches. +But, rich or poor, he is coming to dinner, and I be to see McNab anent +the eatables. A very moderate dinner will do, I should say."</p> + +<p>"Make the finest dinner you can, mother, and it will be only a pot-luck +affair to Sir Thomas," answered Christina. "He is rich, and he is +powerful in politics, and he has one of the finest castles in +Midlothian. He is well worth a good dinner, mother, and Robert will like +to see he has one."</p> + +<p>"What do you say, Isabel?"</p> + +<p>"I say Robert is worth pleasing, mother. The other man is a problem, +perhaps it may be worth while to please him, perhaps not. The negatives +generally win, I've noticed that."</p> + +<p>"Well, well! The dinner is all we can cater for—there's accidentals +anent every affair, and they are beyont us, as a rule. Are either of you +going out this afternoon?"</p> + +<p>"There is nothing to take me out," said Isabel.</p> + +<p>"I was out late last night," said Christina. "I shall rest this +afternoon. Sir Thomas is rather a weariness. We shall all be thankful +when he makes his court bow and says, 'Good-night, ladies! I have had a +perfectly delightsome evening.'" She boldly mimicked the baronet's +broad Scotch speech and courtly debonair manner, without any fear of the +cold silence, or cutting reproofs her mimicry used to provoke.</p> + +<p>No more was said, and the girls did not take Sir Thomas Wynton into +their conversation. He appeared to be a person of no importance to them. +As they were parting Isabel asked: "What will you wear to-night, +Christina?" and Christina answered: "I have not thought of my dress +yet—what will you wear?"</p> + +<p>"My gray silk, trimmed with black lace."</p> + +<p>"Put on white laces; they are more becoming."</p> + +<p>"The dress is ready for the Social Club at the church, Friday. Why +should I alter it for a couple of hours to-night? I wish you would wear +your rose satin. You look so bonnie in it."</p> + +<p>"I'll not don it for Sir Thomas Wynton! I wish to wear it at Mrs. +Bannerman's dinner Thursday, and Wynton is sure to be there. I don't +want him to think I wore my best dress for him only. It would set him up +too high."</p> + +<p>But if she did not wish to wear her rose satin for Sir Thomas, she +appeared in a far more effective costume—a black Maltese lace gown, +trimmed with bright rose-colored bows of satin ribbon. Her really fine +arms were bare from the elbows, her square-cut neck showed a beautifully +white, firm throat, and the glow of the ribbons was over her neck and +arms, and touched the dress here and there charmingly. A bright red rose +showed among the manifold braids of her black hair, and she had in her +hand a rose-colored fan, with which she coquetted very prettily.</p> + +<p>Robert was charmed with her appearance, and told her so. "I want you to +charm Sir Thomas Wynton for me," he added. "It is desirable that I +should have him for a business partner. Do you understand?"</p> + +<p>She laughed, and putting her fan before her face asked in a whisper: +"What will you give me, Robert, if I win him for you?"</p> + +<p>"Five hundred pounds," he said promptly.</p> + +<p>"Done!" she replied, and then, hearing the door open, she turned to see +Sir Thomas Wynton entering. She went to meet him with a laughing welcome +and with both hands extended. She sat at his side during dinner and kept +him laughing, and when she left the dining-room ordered him with a +pretty authority to be in the drawing-room for tea, in forty-five +minutes. And he took out his watch, noted the time, and promised all she +asked.</p> + +<p>In forty-five minutes exactly, he appeared in the drawing-room. Jepson +was serving tea, and Christina's cup stood on the piano, for as Robert +and Sir Thomas entered the room she was playing with lively, racy +spirit, the prelude to the inimitably humorous song of "<i>The Laird o' +Cockpen</i>." Sir Thomas went at once to her side, and when he spoke to +her, she answered him with the musical, mocking words:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"<i>The laird of Cockpen he's proud, and he's great,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>His mind is taen up wi' the things o' the State</i>," etc.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>Sir Thomas listened with peals of laughter, and Robert and Mrs. Campbell +joined in the merriment. Even Isabel was unable to preserve the usual +stillness of her face, though she was far more interested in the singer +than the song. Where had all these charming coquetries, this mirth and +melody been hidden in the old Christina? This was not the Christina she +had known all her life. "It is Theodora's doing," she thought, "and not +one of us have given her one word of thanks. It is too bad! And I am +sure she stayed in her own room to-night, to give Christina a fair +field, and no rival. She is a good woman. I wish mother could like her."</p> + +<p>The whole evening was a triumph for Christina. She sang "<i>Sir John +Cope</i>" with irresistible raillery, and roused every Scotch feeling in +her audience with "<i>Bannocks o' Barley Meal</i>," and "<i>The Kail Brose of +Auld Scotland</i>." She told her most amusing stories, and finally induced +Sir Thomas Wynton and her brother, mother, and sister to join her in the +parting song of "<i>Auld Lang Syne</i>." Then, with evident reluctance, Sir +Thomas went away, "thoroughly bewitched in a' his five senses," as he +confessed later. Christina knew it, for ere she bid her brother +good-night, she found an opportunity to whisper:</p> + +<p>"You will owe me five hundred pounds very soon."</p> + +<p>"I will pay it," he answered, and she looked backward at him with a +laugh. Then he turned to his mother and said: "Who would have believed +that Christina had all this fun and mischief in her?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, well, Robert," answered Mrs. Campbell, "Scotch girls don't put all +their goods in the window. They hold a deal in reserve and there's none +but the one man can ever bring it out o' them. I'm thinking Sir Thomas +is the one man, in Christina's mind."</p> + +<p>"I hope so."</p> + +<p>"I have not such a thing as a doubt left."</p> + +<p>"Do you tell me that, mother?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I took good notice, and she seemed to be on a very easy footing +with him. I'll give him a week to think things o'er, but the marriage o' +Christina Campbell and Sir Thomas Wynton is certain."</p> + +<p>"We will not go quite that far yet, mother, but I think this evening's +events warrant that presumption."</p> + +<p>While this conversation was in progress, Christina was going upstairs, +and her quick, strong steps were in singular contrast to the slow, inert +movements of the Christina of a few years previous. At Theodora's +bedroom door she paused irresolutely for a few moments, but finally +tapped at it. Theodora herself answered the summons. She was in a long, +white gown, and her face was white as the linen.</p> + +<p>"Are you ill, Dora?" Christina asked.</p> + +<p>"No, I am sleepy. Have you had a pleasant evening?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. All went to my wish. Every honor was in my hand, but if you had +been present honors would have been easy, if not entirely in your hand. +It was kind of you to give me this free opportunity, and I feel sure I +have won the game. Good-night."</p> + +<p>"Good-night. You are looking unusually handsome."</p> + +<p>"This dress is becoming. Good-night," and she went gaily away, timing +her steps to the music of the last line of her conquering song:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"<i>And the late Mistress Jean, is my Lady Cockpen</i>,"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>laughing softly to herself as she closed her door. For she knew that she +had won Sir Thomas Wynton, and her sharp little bit of a soul had +already caught a keen sight of the further triumphs awaiting her. She +would travel, she would be presented at many courts, she would entertain +splendidly at Wynton Castle, she would be kind to Theodora, and +patronize and protect her and she would make the hearts of the +Campbelton set sick with envy. So she went to sleep planning a future +for herself, of the most stupendous self-pleasing.</p> + +<p>But within one week her most unlikely plans had assumed an air of +certainty. Sir Thomas Wynton had formally asked Mrs. Campbell for her +daughter's hand, and Miss Christina Campbell been recognized as the +future Lady Wynton. Then her world was at her feet, every one did her +homage, and brought her presents, and praised her for having done so +well to herself. And she took the place in the household accorded her +without dissent and without apologies, and ordered her outgoings and +incomings as she desired.</p> + +<p>At first the middle of June had been named for the marriage, but before +long the date was forwarded to the eighteenth of April, for Sir Thomas +was an ardent lover and would hear of no delaying. Then the house was in +a kind of joyful hurry from morning to night, and Christina spent her +days between the shops and her dressmaker, and not even Sir Thomas could +get a glimpse of her until the day's pleasant labor was over. At first +Mrs. Campbell went with her daughter on these shopping expeditions, and +sometimes Isabel accompanied them, but soon the various demands of the +coming event gave the elder ladies abundant cares, and Christina was +permitted to manage her shopping and fitting as she thought best. So +then she gained daily in self-assertion, and soon submitted to no +dictation even from her brother. But Sir Thomas was a lover sure to make +any woman authoritative, for he submitted gladly to all his mistress's +whims, obeyed all her orders, and grew every hour more and more +infatuated with his charming Christina. The most expensive flowers and +fruits were sent to her daily, the Wynton jewels were being reset for +her use, and Wynton Castle elaborately decorated and furnished for its +new mistress. Christina, indeed, was now drinking a full cup of +long-delayed happiness, and late as it was, finding the dew of her +long-lost youth.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Campbell shared her daughter's triumphant satisfaction. To all her +kinfolk, married and unmarried, male and female, she wrote little notes +brimming with pride and false humility, and expatiating on Sir Thomas +Wynton's rank, wealth and power, his handsome person, and his deep +devotion to her daughter; piously trusting that "her dear child might +not be lured from the narrow path of godliness, in which she had been so +carefully trained."</p> + +<p>So in these days Christina was busy and happy, and mistress of all she +desired. Yet as the wedding-day approached, she became nervous and +irritable; she said she was weary to death, and wanted to sleep for a +month. No one cared to cross her in the smallest matter, though her +family devotion never deserted her. This feeling was strongly +exemplified about two weeks before the wedding-day, in a few words said +to her brother one evening when they were alone in the dining-room.</p> + +<p>"Robert," she asked, "how near are you to the hundred thousand you +expected? You have paid me the five hundred pounds promised. I should +like to know if I have earned it. How near are you to your desire?"</p> + +<p>"Near enough."</p> + +<p>"Has he signed the papers yet?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"I have not pressed the matter."</p> + +<p>"You are foolish. It will be easier to get his signature before we are +married, than after."</p> + +<p>"You suspicious woman! Men keep their word about money matters, +Christina. Don't you know that?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Well, of course you don't. You know nothing about men."</p> + +<p>"You are satisfied, are you?"</p> + +<p>"I am perfectly satisfied."</p> + +<p>"And sure?"</p> + +<p>"And positively sure."</p> + +<p>A week later she asked again, though in a joking manner, "if he had +secured that signature?" and Robert answered in a tone of annoyance:</p> + +<p>"Do not trouble yourself anent my money matters, Christina."</p> + +<p>Then she laughed and said: "When I am Lady Wynton, I may find many other +ways for the spending of that hundred thousand of lying siller."</p> + +<p>"I can trust you," replied Robert. "When you are Lady Wynton, you will +not cease to be Christina Campbell, and Campbells stand shoulder to +shoulder all the world over."</p> + +<p>At these words she gave him her hand, and he clasped it tightly between +his own. No further words were necessary. Robert knew assuredly that his +sister's influence would always be in his favor, never against him.</p> + +<p>As she left her brother, Mrs. Campbell called her, and with a slight +reluctance she went into the familiar room.</p> + +<p>"What is it you want with me, mother?" she asked, quickly adding, "I am +very busy to-day."</p> + +<p>"I want to tell you, Christina, that I have had the small room behind +this room prepared for your trunks. They ought to have been here +yesterday. Are your dresses not finished? It is high time they were."</p> + +<p>"Some are finished, others are not."</p> + +<p>"Those that are finished had better be sent here at once."</p> + +<p>There was a moment's pause, and then Christina said decidedly: "None of +my bride things are coming here, mother. When they are all in perfect +order they will be sent to my future home."</p> + +<p>"To Wynton Castle?"</p> + +<p>"Of course. They will be quite safe there."</p> + +<p>"Safe! What do you mean, miss? And pray, why are your bride clothes sent +to Wynton Castle, instead of to Traquair House? I insist on knowing +that."</p> + +<p>"Because Traquair House is notoriously unlucky to bride clothes. Poor +Theodora's pretty things were all ruined by those dreadful Campbelton +people. You said your bride things were treated in the same way. Very +well, I am determined that none of my trunks shall be broken open and +rifled, and so I am sending them to where they will be guarded and +respected."</p> + +<p>"You are acting in a shameful, and most unusual manner, and I command +you to send your trunks here. I will be responsible for their safety."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, mother, but I have already made excellent arrangements for +their security."</p> + +<p>"I consider your behavior abominable. It is an outrage on your mother's +love and honor."</p> + +<p>"Theodora trusted you, and you allowed a lot of vulgar, unscrupulous +women to ransack her trunks, wear her new dresses dirty, and spoil all +they touched, and carry away with them neckwear and jewelry they had no +right to touch. I will not give them so much opportunity to injure me. +You ought not to wish me to do so."</p> + +<p>"Christina Campbell, your behavior is beyond all excuse, it is almost +beyond all forgiveness. Isabel, tell your sister her duty."</p> + +<p>Then Isabel said in a slow, positive voice: "I think Christina is right. +You know, mother, the Campbelton people will come to the marriage, and +after Christina has gone, who will be able to restrain them? Not you. It +is quite certain that they ruined poor Dora's home-coming, and made her +begin her life here, at sixes and sevens."</p> + +<p>"Poor Dora! What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"I mean, mother, that the opening of her trunks, and the use of her +clothing was a shameful thing. I have often said so, and I will always +say so."</p> + +<p>"Do not dare to say it to me again. I will not listen to such nonsense, +and as for you, Christina Campbell, you are an ungrateful child, and you +are cocking your head too high, and somewhat too early. Wait until you +are Lady Wynton, before you put on ladyship airs."</p> + +<p>"Look you, mother, once and for all time, my trunks are not coming near +Traquair House. I am as good as married, and I will not be ordered about +like a child; it is out of the question."</p> + +<p>"<i>Dod!</i> but you are full of bouncing, swaggering words. And what good +girl ever sent her bridal clothes away, without letting her mother see +them? What in heaven and earth will you do next?"</p> + +<p>"I shall be delighted, if you will come with me to Madame Bernard's +rooms this morning. I have asked you frequently to do so. You always +refuse."</p> + +<p>"I intended to examine them here, at my leisure."</p> + +<p>"And as to what I shall do next, you will see that very shortly. I am +very sorry, mother, to disappoint you, but after I am married you can +see me wearing the dresses, and——"</p> + +<p>"I do not wish to see them at all now."</p> + +<p>"Very well."</p> + +<p>"All your life, until lately, you have been a good obedient daughter; +the change in you is the work of that wicked, wicked woman Dora Newton."</p> + +<p>"All my life until lately, I was kept in a state of nothingness—but I +am no longer a nonentity. I have come into a human existence, and you +are right, it is Dora Campbell's doing, and I wish I knew how to thank +her."</p> + +<p>"It would be thanking the devil, for teaching you to sin."</p> + +<p>"Mother, you are spoiling my day, and I have a great deal to do. +Good-morning, or will you come with me?"</p> + +<p>"I will not come one footstep with you. How can you expect it?"</p> + +<p>At these words Christina left the room, and Mrs. Campbell began a +complaint illustrated by sobs, and sighs, and intermittent tears. She +told Isabel that all the pleasure she expected from her child's marriage +had been taken from her. She confessed that she had spoken a little to +many people of the rich and beautiful presents Christina had received, +and now she would not be able to show one of them; and no one would +believe what she had said—and she could not blame people if they did +not. "Oh, Isabel!" she cried, "for my sake, and for all our sakes, +Christina must send her trunks here for a week or two. Do try and +persuade her. She always listens to you."</p> + +<p>"It is quite useless, mother; she has made up her mind to send them to +her new home. I rather think some have gone there already, for two weeks +ago there were eight trunks at madame's, and last week I only saw +three."</p> + +<p>"Why did you not tell me? Oh, why did you not give me a chance to +persuade the cruel, selfish girl? So wrong! So wicked! So ungrateful! +You know, Isabel, I gave her five hundred pounds to buy that very +clothing—I had a right to see it—yes, I had—I had—and it is +shameful!"</p> + +<p>"Mother, you could have gone with Christina to her dressmaker's. You +could not expect her to bring all her things here, they would certainly +have been shown and handled—they might have been ill-used as Dora's +pretty clothes were. Oh, mother, I do not blame Christina at all! I +think she acted for the best."</p> + +<p>"So you also are joining the enemy—getting Newtonized like Christina. +Do you also hope to become a beauty, and a belle, and marry a baronet?"</p> + +<p>"Mother, you are throwing sarcasm away. I have no hopes left for myself. +It is too late for me to develop in any direction."</p> + +<p>"Whose fault is that?"</p> + +<p>"Destiny's fault, I suppose. I was nursing the sick, when I ought to +have been in school and in society."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Campbell did not answer this reproach. Destiny was a good enough +apology. No one could thwart Destiny. She at least was not to blame for +the wrongs of Destiny. She sat dourly still and silent, the very image +of resentful disappointment. The silence was indeed so profound, that +one could hear the passage of Isabel's needle through the silk she was +sewing, and for ten minutes both women maintained the attitude they had +taken.</p> + +<p>Then Isabel—holding her needle poised ready for the next stitch—looked +at her mother. Her expression of hopeless defeat was pathetic, and her +silent, motionless endurance of it, touched Isabel's heart as tears and +complaints never could have done. She rose and, taking her mother's +dropped hand, said:</p> + +<p>"Never mind, mother. You will often see Christina wearing her fineries +in her grand new home. That will be far better than taking them out of a +trunk to look at."</p> + +<p>"Isabel, I care nothing about seeing them. I wanted to show them. People +will never believe she got all I said she did."</p> + +<p>"Why should you care whether they believe it or not? And why not pay the +newspapers to make a notice of them. They will send some youngster here +to item them, and you can give him a sovereign, and a glass of wine, and +then you can give Christina all the wonderfuls you like—even to the +half, or the whole, of Sir Thomas Wynton's estate."</p> + +<p>"That is the plan, Isabel. I'm glad you thought of it."</p> + +<p>"Robert is gey fond of a newspaper notice. He'll pay the sovereign +without a grumble."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure you are an extraordinar' comfort, Isabel."</p> + +<p>"And I thought you were going to order the wedding cake this morning. +There is really no time to lose, mother."</p> + +<p>"You are right, Isabel, and I must just put back my own sair heartache +and look after the ungrateful, thrawart woman's wedding cake. It's +untelling what I have done for Christina, and the upsetting ways o' her +this morning and the words she said, I'll never forget. I shall come +o'er them in my mind as long as I live; and I'll tell her what I think +of her behavior, whenever I find a proper opportunity."</p> + +<p>"Very well, mother. Tell her flatly your last thought; it will be the +best way."</p> + +<p>"I will."</p> + +<p>"But do go about the cake at once. It is important, and there's none but +yourself will be heeded."</p> + +<p>Then with a long, deep sigh, she went slowly out of the room, and Isabel +watched her affected weakness and indifference with a kind of scornful +pity. For women see through women, know intuitively their little tricks +and make-beliefs, and for this very reason a daughter's love for her +mother—however devoted and self-sacrificing—lacks that something of +mystical worship which a son feels for his mother. The daughter knows +she wears false hair and false teeth and pink and white powder; the son +simply takes her as she looks and thinks "what a lovely mother I have!" +The daughter has watched her mother's little schemes for happy household +management, and probably helped her in them; the son knows only their +completed comfort and their personal pleasure. He never dreams of any +policy or management in his mother's words and deeds, and hence he +believes in her just as he sees and hears her. And her wisdom and love +seem to him so great and so unusual, that an element of reverence—the +highest feeling of which man is capable—blends itself with all his +conceptions of mother. And the wonder is, that a daughter's love +exists, and persists, without it. Knowing all her mother's feminine +weaknesses, she loves her devotedly in spite of them—nay, perhaps loves +her the more profoundly because of them. And if she is not capable of +this affection she does not love her at all.</p> + +<p>Isabel watched her mother leave the house on the wedding cake business +and then she went to her sister's room. She found her dressing to go +out. "I have an appointment at eleven, Isabel," she said, "and I am so +glad you have come to sit beside me while I dress. The days are going so +fast, and very soon now you will come to my room, and Christina will not +be here, any more in this life."</p> + +<p>"You will surely come back to your own home sometimes, Christina?"</p> + +<p>"No. I shall never enter Traquair House again, unless you are sick and +need me—then I would come. I have just been going through my top +drawer, Isabel; it was full of old gifts and keepsakes, and I declare +they brought tears to my eyes."</p> + +<p>"Why? I dare say the givers have forgotten you—they were mostly school +friends, and the Campbelton crowd."</p> + +<p>"Do you think I had a tear for any of them? No, no! I was nearly crying +for myself, for it was really piteous to see the trash a woman of my age +thought worth preserving. I sent the whole contents of the drawer to the +kitchen—the servant lasses may quarrel about them."</p> + +<p>"Was there nothing worth taking to your new home? No single thing that +had a loving, or a pleasant memory?"</p> + +<p>"Not one. The whole mess of needlework, and painted cards, toilet toys, +and sham trinkets represented my existence until Dora came. It was just +as useless and unsatisfying as the trash flung into the kitchen. Dora +opened the gates of life for me. Poor Dora!"</p> + +<p>"Why do you say 'poor Dora'?"</p> + +<p>"She is unhappy, disappointed, I have sometimes thought almost +frightened. She is much changed. Robert is not kind to her, and he ought +to be ashamed of himself. I wonder if my intended husband will act as +Robert has done?"</p> + +<p>"Sir Thomas is much in love with you."</p> + +<p>"Robert was much in love with Dora. See how it ends. He sits reading, or +he lies asleep on the sofa the evenings he is with her—and he used to +feel as if the day was not long enough to tell her how lovely and how +dear she was. I suppose Sir Thomas will act in the same way."</p> + +<p>"I do not think he will."</p> + +<p>"He had better not."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Christina, do not talk—do not even think of such contingencies. +Women should never threaten."</p> + +<p>"Pray, why not?"</p> + +<p>"Because it is dangerous to themselves to show their teeth if they +cannot bite, and they cannot. Women in this country are helpless as +babies."</p> + +<p>"Then there are other countries."</p> + +<p>"<i>Hush!</i> This is uncanny talk. What a pretty suit! Are you going to wear +it to-day?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, it is a spring suit, and this is a lovely spring morning. I heard +the robins singing as you came upstairs."</p> + +<p>"Mother has gone to order the wedding cake—you ought to be a happy +woman, Christina."</p> + +<p>"I am—and yet, Isabel, life will be bare without you. All my life long +you have been my comfort, and I love you, yes, I love you dearly, +Isabel."</p> + +<p>"And I love you, Christina. I shall miss you every hour of the day."</p> + +<p>Then they were both silent, they had said all they could say, and much +more than was usual. Christina finished her toilet, and Isabel sat +watching her, then they clasped hands and walked downstairs together, +and so to the front door, which Jepson opened as Christina approached +it. For a few moments Isabel stood there and watched her sister enter +the waiting carriage, and felt well repaid when Christina, as the horses +moved, fluttered her white handkerchief in a parting salute.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Campbell returned in time for lunch. She had quite recovered her +dignity, and was indeed more than usually vaunting and exultant. "I have +ordered a cake twice the ordinary size," she said, "and the small boxes, +and the narrow white ribbon, in which to send friends not present at the +ceremony a portion. It will be a labor to tie them up, and direct them, +but there will be a house full to help you. When will your dress be +done, Isabel?"</p> + +<p>"To-night, mother."</p> + +<p>"And Christina's comes to-morrow night. Mine is finished. I called at +Dalmeny's to examine it. The lace is particularly effective, and it +fits—which is a wonder. Will Sir Thomas be here to dinner?"</p> + +<p>"He has gone to Edinburgh for the Wynton diamonds. He has set his heart +on Christina wearing them at the marriage ceremony."</p> + +<p>"I do not approve his determination. A bride, in my opinion, ought to be +dressed with great simplicity. I was. A few orange blossoms, or the like +of them, are enough."</p> + +<p>"Not always. A young girl looks well enough with a few flowers, but a +woman in the prime of life, like Christina, can wear diamonds even on +her wedding-day, and look grander and lovelier for them."</p> + +<p>"Well, well! Your way be it. I do not expect my opinions to be regarded, +but can tell you one thing—if Sir Thomas goes on giving her gems at the +rate he has done, the Wynton baronage will be in a state of perfect +beggary, before the end of their lives. I was just telling Mrs. Malcolm +that I verily believed the sum-total o' Sir Thomas Wynton's gifts to my +daughter might reach all o' a ten thousand pounds, and she was that +astonished, she could barely keep her composure."</p> + +<p>"That is just like yourself, mother. I do wish you would not boast so +much about Sir Thomas. He is not any kind of a miraculous godsend, for +Christina is quite as good as he is."</p> + +<p>"Isabel, if my family has been honored with extraordinar' mercies, I am +not the woman to deny them, or even hide them in a napkin, as it were. I +am going to be thankful for them and speak well of them to all and +sundry. I am going to rejoice day and night over the circumstance. I +think it just and right to testify my gratitude so far; and I would +think shame o' myself if I did not do it."</p> + +<p>"Very well, mother. Christina had a new spring suit on to-day. She +looked exceedingly handsome in it."</p> + +<p>"Bailie Littlejohn remarked to me lately, that my daughter Christina was +the very picture o' myself, when I was about her age. And he remembered +me ever since we were in the dancing class together—that is forty +years—maybe forty-one, or two, or perhaps as many as forty——"</p> + +<p>"Never mind the years, mother. It is very nice of the Bailie to remember +so long."</p> + +<p>"I always made long—I may say lasting impressions, Isabel. It was my +way—or gift—a kind of power I had. People who once know me, never +forget me. It is rather a peculiar power, I think."</p> + +<p>"Christina seems very happy, mother."</p> + +<p>"Of course she is happy! It would be a black, burning shame if she were +not. Sir Thomas is all she deserves, and more too, yet I am glad he has +withdrawn himself to-night, for I am fairly fagged out with fine +dinners, and I shall tell McNab to give us some mutton broth and collops +to-night. It will be a thanksgiving to have the plainest dinner she can +cook."</p> + +<p>"Christina may not like it."</p> + +<p>"Then she can dislike it. I am not fearing Christina. I wish you would +ask Dora what she is going to wear."</p> + +<p>"Tell Robert to do so."</p> + +<p>"I have heard tell of no new dress, and it would be just like her to +wear her own wedding dress."</p> + +<p>"Is there anything against her doing so?"</p> + +<p>"Is there anything against it? Certainly there is. We do not want any +one in white satin but Christina."</p> + +<p>"Oh! I see. Robert must explain that to her. Tell him so to-night. You +had better take a sleep this afternoon, mother. You look tired."</p> + +<p>"I will rest until seven. What time will Christina be home?"</p> + +<p>"She did not tell me."</p> + +<p>"Where was she going?"</p> + +<p>"To Marion Brodie's. She spoke of Flora McLeod being with Marion to-day, +and of the necessity of making each of them understand their duties."</p> + +<p>"Duties?"</p> + +<p>"As chief bride-maidens."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes, of course! But she will be home to dinner?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, certainly; and Marion may come back with her. If so, how will the +plain dinner do?"</p> + +<p>"Well enough! Marion's mother was brought up on mutton broth and haggis; +and the wealth o' the Brodies is o'er young to be in the fashions yet +awhile. I will be down at seven, and meanwhile you may speak to +Christina anent her duty. I do think her wedding dress ought to be home +even the now."</p> + +<p>"Mother, it will not come until the day before the marriage. She is +afraid of it being handled."</p> + +<p>"Preserve us! Why shouldn't it be handled? It is pure selfishness. She +is against sharing her pleasure with any other soul. That is the because +of her ill-natured conduct. See that dinner is ready punctual. Your +brother was in one of his north-easter tempers this morning, and the +day's work isn't likely to have sorted him any better."</p> + +<p>Then half-reluctantly she went upstairs. She would rather have remained +with Isabel and talked affairs over again; but Isabel was depressed and +not inclined to conversation. The old lady wondered, as she slowly +climbed the stairs, "What the young people of this generation were made +of?" She felt that she had more enthusiasm than either of her daughters, +and then sighed deeply, because it received so little sympathy.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<h3>A RUNAWAY BRIDE</h3> + + +<p>At seven precisely Mrs. Campbell re-entered the dining-room. Isabel was +already there, and Jepson was bringing in the broth. Neither Robert nor +Christina was present, and she wondered a little, but asked no +questions. In a few moments Theodora took her place, and without remark +permitted Jepson to serve her. But she was evidently in trouble, and she +did not touch the food before her. At length Mrs. Campbell asked:</p> + +<p>"Where is Robert? Is he not ready for dinner?"</p> + +<p>"He is asleep. I suppose he is not ready for dinner."</p> + +<p>"What time did he return home?"</p> + +<p>"Very early. He said he was sleepy. He is always sleepy. I fear he is +ill, a healthy man cannot always be needing sleep."</p> + +<p>"The Campbells, all of them, are famous for their ability to sleep. They +can sleep at all hours, and in any place—a four-inch-wide plank would +suffice them for a sofa. They can order a sleep whenever they desire, +and it comes. It is very remarkable."</p> + +<p>"Very," answered Theodora, in a tone of unavoidable contempt.</p> + +<p>"I have heard people say it was a great gift, and it is quite a family +gift."</p> + +<p>"I hope my little David will not inherit it," said Theodora.</p> + +<p>"There is nothing of the Campbell family about the boy," replied Mrs. +Campbell.</p> + +<p>Theodora did not say she was glad, but she looked the words, and her +expression of satisfaction was annoying to both Isabel and her mother. +The former said with petulant decision:</p> + +<p>"I can sleep at any time I wish. I think this family trait is a great +and peculiar blessing."</p> + +<p>"Circumstances may sometimes make it so, Isabel," answered Theodora, +"but I would rather wake and suffer, than sink into animal +unconsciousness half my life. Robert has slept, or pretended to sleep, +twelve hours out of the last twenty-four, and he does not even dream."</p> + +<p>"Dream!" cried Mrs. Campbell in disgust, "dream, I hope not! Only fools +dream. My children go to bed for the purpose of sleeping. Dream indeed! +The Campbells have good sense, and they don't lose it when they sleep."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but I think dreaming is one of the most sensible things we do. The +soul is comforted by dreaming, instructed and warned by dreaming. I +should feel spiritually dead, if the blessed, prophesying dreams failed +to visit me."</p> + +<p>"I wonder where Christina is taking dinner," said Mrs. Campbell. She +refused to continue a conversation so senseless and disagreeable, and +her way of doing so, was not only to ignore Theodora's topic, but also +to introduce a subject which she considered important and interesting. +And of course Christina's dinner was a matter that put dreaming out of +court and question.</p> + +<p>Isabel thought she was dining with the Brodies, and Mrs. Campbell said, +"In that case she ought to have sent a message to her family."</p> + +<p>"She is so occupied, mother, she forgets. We must make some allowances +at this time."</p> + +<p>"Of course, Isabel. I expect to do so."</p> + +<p>Then the door was suddenly thrown open and Robert entered. His face was +dark, he was biting his thumbnail, and his eyes were full of a dull +fire. He had not a word for any one but Jepson, whom he ordered to +remove the broth. "The house smells of it," he said with an air of +disgust. He ate what dinner he took without speaking, an act Gothic, +almost brutal, when it can be avoided, but none of the three women cared +to break the silence, lest they might turn silence into visible, audible +anger.</p> + +<p>Theodora made a pretence of eating, but it was only a pretence and she +left the room as soon as the cloth was drawn. Robert did not in any way +notice her departure, but he began a grumbling kind of conversation with +his mother, as soon as the three Campbells were alone. He said he was +worn out with the expense and rioting anent Christina's marriage. It had +been fine dinners, and suppers, and fooleries of all kinds for weeks, +and more weeks, and money wasting away like water running into sand. He +saw no good coming of it. He was glad the end was in sight, etc., +etc.—grumble, grumble, grumble, his voice never lifted above a deep, +sulky monotone, his face dark with frowns and discontent.</p> + +<p>He was so ill-tempered Mrs. Campbell thought it best to leave him alone +with his cigar. It seemed better to worry out her anxieties with Isabel, +who, however, was not in a mood to talk them away. "I am so depressed, +mother," she complained. "I hardly know what I am saying. I feel as if I +had a great sorrow. The room is dark, the air heavy, the whole house +feels full of trouble. It is crowded, too. With a little effort I feel +that I could see the crowd. Do you understand?"</p> + +<p>"My God! Isabel, control yourself. We want no Second Sight here. The +Argyle Campbells are great seers, and you must close your ears to their +whisperings, and whatever sights are under your eye-balls, deny them +vision. You must, you must! For, as your grandfather, Ivan Campbell, +used to say, 'the Second Sight, children, isna a blessing, it is aye +dool and sorrow, or ill chance it shows you.'"</p> + +<p>"Mother, I must tell you the truth. I am unhappy about Christina."</p> + +<p>"So am I."</p> + +<p>"She ought to have sent us a message. She would, had it been possible. +Oh, mother, what or who prevented her?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps she did. Have you asked Scot?"</p> + +<p>"No, but if any message had been sent by him he would have told Jepson +at once, and Jepson heard our conversation about her absence at the +dinner table, yet he made no remark."</p> + +<p>"What do you fear?"</p> + +<p>"My fear has no form. That is what frightens me. If I knew——"</p> + +<p>"You are nervous, Isabel, very nervous. She left home well, and in good +spirits."</p> + +<p>"I never saw her in better health, or finer spirits."</p> + +<p>"Do you not remember, that she once stayed at Colonel Allison's till +near midnight, without sending us any message? We were in a fright about +her at that time."</p> + +<p>"But you commanded her never to do the like again."</p> + +<p>"Christina has not obeyed my commands very particularly of late. They do +not seem important to her."</p> + +<p>"She has had so much to do, and she knew Sir Thomas would not be in +Glasgow to-night. If I knew she was well and safe, I should be glad she +was not here, for this is an unhappy house with Robert in the devil's +own temper, and Dora looking like the grave."</p> + +<p>"Dora makes Robert ill-tempered. It is all her fault, and we have to +suffer for it."</p> + +<p>"She evidently suffers also."</p> + +<p>"She deserves to suffer."</p> + +<p>"Suppose we send for Scot. He must be in the stable yet."</p> + +<p>"As you like."</p> + +<p>In a quarter of an hour Scot stood within the dining-room door +respectfully indignant at the summons and the delay it would cause him. +He was rather glad the ladies were anxious and quite in the mood to tell +anything he thought might be disagreeable.</p> + +<p>"Where did you take Miss Christina first of all this morning, Scot?" +asked Mrs. Campbell.</p> + +<p>"To the florist's shop on Buchanan Street. She bought a posy of +daffy-down-dillys and came out with them in her hand."</p> + +<p>"Where next?"</p> + +<p>"To Madame Barnard's. She didna stop five minutes there, but Madame cam' +to the doorstep wi' her, and bid Miss Christina good-bye and wished her +a' the good luck in the round world itsel'."</p> + +<p>"Then?"</p> + +<p>"She told me then to go back to the stable, but to be sure and come for +her at four o'clock. I asked where I was to come, and she laughed +pleasantly and said, 'Come to Bailie Brodie's,' and gave me the +Crescent, and the number o' the house forbye."</p> + +<p>"Did you go to Bailie Brodie's at four o'clock?"</p> + +<p>"I did that same thing, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"A servant lass told me Miss Campbell hadna been there that day, nor +that week. So I drove home again, and at half after five I went to the +train for Mr. Campbell, but I missed him. He had come by an early +train, while I was at Brodies'."</p> + +<p>"Did you notice any one speak to Miss Campbell?"</p> + +<p>"No one."</p> + +<p>"Did she take the right way to Brodies'?"</p> + +<p>"She took the best way—up Sauchiehall Street."</p> + +<p>"That will do, Scot."</p> + +<p>Scot shut the door, and the two women looked with troubled eyes into +each other's faces. Mrs. Campbell then turned to the clock and said, "It +is on the stroke of nine, Isabel. We will wait until ten; then I shall +speak to your brother."</p> + +<p>The hour went miserably, almost silently away, and then Mrs. Campbell +went to her son. He treated her fears with contemptuous indifference. +"It is like you women," he said, "you always make a mountain out of a +molehill. If any one of the women in this house knows how to take care +of herself, it is Christina Campbell! Go to your beds, and tell Jepson +to sit up for her."</p> + +<p>"Robert, do you understand that she said she was going to the Brodies', +and then did not go?"</p> + +<p>"Who said she was not there?"</p> + +<p>"One of the Brodie servant lasses."</p> + +<p>"<i>Tush!</i> She went there, no doubt, but did not stay long enough to +acquaint that particular servant with her visit. I have no doubt Marion +Brodie and Christina went off somewhere together, and they are likely +together at this hour."</p> + +<p>"I never thought of that, Robert. Indeed it is very likely they went to +Netta Galbraith, who is to be second bridesmaid."</p> + +<p>"Of course, and they are having a mock marriage in order to practise +their parts. I hope we shall have no more marriages in the family, they +are ruinously expensive, and make nothing but misery and anxiety."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Campbell sighed, and lifted her eyes heaven-ward, but she did not +remain with her son. She was really afraid to leave Isabel, for she +looked almost distracted, and on the point of vision. "And I will not +have it," she whispered to herself, "no, I will not. There shall be no +prophecy of calamity in this house, whether from the dead or the +living—not if mortal woman can help it."</p> + +<p>She opened the dining-room door to this thought, and Isabel stayed her +rapid walk and asked anxiously, "Well, mother?"</p> + +<p>"Your brother says there is no occasion to worry. He made out a very +clear case of the circumstance," and she explained his supposition +concerning Christina's and Marion Brodie's visit together to Netta +Galbraith.</p> + +<p>Isabel shook her head. "That is not it," she answered positively.</p> + +<p>"He advised us to go to bed."</p> + +<p>"I will not until Christina returns, or Robert does something to clear +up her failure to come."</p> + +<p>"How do you feel?"</p> + +<p>"Unquiet and unhappy. Mother, something extraordinary has happened."</p> + +<p>"I hope you are not seeing things."</p> + +<p>"No. The 'visiting' is past—but it will come again."</p> + +<p>"It must not! It must not! Deny it every time! Oh, Isabel—if anything +should happen to put off the marriage, whatever should we do?"</p> + +<p>"Bear it."</p> + +<p>"The talk of it! The wonder of it! The mortification of it!"</p> + +<p>"Mother, why are you fearing such a misfortune? Robert says all is +right. You have always believed Robert's word."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes! Robert knows, Robert feels, when he is in the right mood, but +to-night he is in a bad mood—cross and evil as Satan."</p> + +<p>Dismally they talked together for another hour, and then Robert joined +them. He had caught fear from some source, and he asked for a list of +such places as Christina was likely to visit. Then he called a cab and +went first to Glover's Theatre. He was just in time to see the exit of +the Box crowd, but Christina was not among them. Suddenly the +consequences of a delayed marriage struck him like a buffet in his face. +The loss of money—the loss of prestige—the talk—the newspapers! Oh, +the thing was impossible, and he tried to put the apprehension of it +away with a stamp of his foot. He was equally unsuccessful wherever he +called. No one had seen Christina that day, and he finally went home +puzzled, and even anxious, but sure that her unaccountable absence was +the result of some misunderstanding that would be cleared up when +morning came. He insisted on the family retiring, but told Jepson to +leave the gas burning, and be ready to open the door if called upon to +do so. Then he also went upstairs, but sleep was far from him. Theodora +appeared to be asleep, but though her eyes were closed, her heart was +waking. One kind word would have brought him all the comfort love could +give. He was touched, however, by the sweetness and peace that brooded +over her, and by the calm and restful atmosphere pervading her room. He +stood a moment at the side of the apparently sleeping woman, but was +reluctant—perhaps ashamed—to awaken her. David slept in her +dressing-room and he went to the child's cot and looked at the beautiful +boy. When he was asleep, the likeness to his father was very evident, +and Robert noticed it.</p> + +<p>"I was once as innocent and as fair as he is. I must have looked just +like him," and sitting down by a table he held his head in his hands, +and thought of them, and of Christina's delay, listening always for the +carriage, the step, the ring at the door, that never came.</p> + +<p>The next morning the whole family were late and unrested. Jepson was +sorting the mail as Isabel came downstairs, and she asked anxiously, +"What time is it, Jepson?"</p> + +<p>"Nine o'clock, miss. Here is a letter for you, miss."</p> + +<p>She saw at once it was from Christina, and she took it eagerly, and ran +back to her own room with it. Trembling from head to feet, she broke the +seal and read:</p> + +<blockquote><p><span class="smcap">My dear Sister</span>:</p> + +<p>I was married to-day at half-past eleven to Jamie Rathey. I met +him twelve days ago, and we went into the picture gallery, and +sat there all day talking, and I found out that I loved Jamie, +and did not love Sir Thomas. I promised to marry him, and we +rented a nice floor and furnished it very prettily, and hired +two servants, and so after the marriage ceremony, went to our +own home for lunch. Do not blame me, Isabel. I have never been +happy in all my life, and I want to be happy, and I shall be +happy with Jamie. I have sent all the gifts Sir Thomas gave me +back, and written him a letter. He will forgive me, and I know +you will. Mother will forbid you to mention me, and she will +never forgive. I know Robert will feel hurt, but he has no +cause. I begged him to secure the fish that was on the hook for +him, and he would not. I thought all well over, and I did not +see why I should any longer sacrifice myself for the Campbells. +For twenty-eight years I was miserable—child and woman. Nobody +loved me but Jamie. I had nothing other girls and women had. +But I am happy at last! Happy at last! Oh, Isabel, be glad for +me. I will write to you every month, but you need not try to +find me out. You could not. You might as well look for a +needle in a hay-stack. Dear Isabel, do not forget me. Your +loving sister,</p> + +<p><span class="smcap">Christina Rathey</span>.</p></blockquote> + +<p>And Isabel cried and wrung her hands and said softly, but from her very +heart, "I am glad, I am glad! You did right, Christina! Yes, you did! +You did! And Isabel will stand by you till the last. She will! She +will!"</p> + +<p>With tears still on her white cheeks, she went down to the dining-room. +Robert and his mother were at the table, and evidently not on agreeable +terms. "Jepson thought you had a letter from Christina," said Mrs. +Campbell, "and I am astonished you did not bring it to us, at once."</p> + +<p>"I thought it would be better, to see first what news it contained."</p> + +<p>"Well? Can you not speak?"</p> + +<p>Then Isabel put the letter into her mother's hand.</p> + +<p>And in a few minutes there was a cry like that of a woman wounded and +crushed to death. With frantic passion Mrs. Campbell threw the letter at +her son, and then with bitter execrations assailed the child she accused +of killing her.</p> + +<p>"Mother, mother! Do be quiet!" pleaded Isabel.</p> + +<p>"She has killed me! I shall die of shame! I shall die! She has broken my +heart!"</p> + +<p>Robert read the letter through, his face growing darker and darker as he +read. When he had finished, he threw it on the fire, and Isabel rushed +to the grate and rescued it, though it was smoked, and browned, and +mostly illegible. But she clasped its tinder and ashes in her hands, +cried over them, and finally left the room with the precious relics +clasped to her heart.</p> + +<p>"Have you gone crazy too?" called her mother.</p> + +<p>"Let her alone!" said Robert.</p> + +<p>"And pray what is the matter with you?"</p> + +<p>"I am ashamed of the way you are behaving."</p> + +<p>"It is your sister of whom you must be ashamed. Her disgraceful marriage +will kill me."</p> + +<p>"It is the result of your own doing, and withholding."</p> + +<p>"I am to bear the blame, of course. Poor mother!"</p> + +<p>"You never gave her any happiness, and when she got the opportunity she +gave it to herself. That was natural."</p> + +<p>"She had all the happiness I had."</p> + +<p>"You had your husband, your family, your house, your servants, and your +social duties. You were quite happy, but none of these things made +happiness for your daughters. They wanted the pleasures of youth—gay +company, gay clothing, travel and lovers, and none of these things you +gave them. I was often very sorry for them."</p> + +<p>"Then why did you not help them yourself?"</p> + +<p>"Do you remember the year I begged you to take your daughters to +Edinburgh and London, and offered to pay all expenses, and you would not +do it?"</p> + +<p>"I did not wish to go to Edinburgh and London."</p> + +<p>"No, you wanted to go to Campbelton, and so you made your daughters go +with you, though they hated the place. There Christina met this low +fellow whom she married. She had no other lover. To the Campbelton +rabble you sacrificed my sisters from their babyhood."</p> + +<p>"Robert Campbell! How dare you call my kindred 'rabble'?"</p> + +<p>"The name is good enough. Do you think I have forgotten how they treated +my wife's clothing, and our rooms?"</p> + +<p>"What are you bringing up that old story for?"</p> + +<p>"It comes in naturally to-day, and I have not forgotten it. For your +cruelty at that time, you are rightly served. Christina has avenged +Theodora."</p> + +<p>He flung the last words at her over his shoulder as he left the room. +She had no opportunity to answer them, indeed she was not able to do so. +It seemed to her as if she had been stricken dumb from head to feet; as +if her world was being swept away from her, and she could not protest +against it. Isabel had left her in anger and opposition. Robert in +reproach. As for Christina, she had smitten her on every side, and gone +away without contrition and without reproof. And Robert's few words had +been keener than a sword, for they were edged with Truth, and Truth +drove them to her very soul.</p> + +<p>But she had no thought of surrendering any foothold of her position. She +only wanted time to consider herself, for this solid defection of son +and daughters had come like a cataclysm out of a clear sky, unforeseen, +entire, and apparently complete in its misery. Her first resolve was to +go to Theodora, and have the circumstance "out" with her. But her limbs +were as heavy as her heart, and when with difficulty she reached the +door of the room, she heard her son talking to his wife. And it had been +brought home to her that morning that Robert could not be depended on, +therefore she must risk no more uncertain encounters. Theodora alone, +she did not fear; but Theodora and Robert in alliance meant certain +defeat.</p> + +<p>So she stumbled back to the sofa and sat down. Nature ordered her to lie +down, but she flatly refused. "This is a critical time," she said to +herself, "and Margaret Campbell, there is to be no lying down. You be to +keep on the defensive." But she rang for Jepson, and told him to tell +Miss Campbell her mother wanted her. In a few minutes Isabel answered +the summons, and as soon as she entered the room she cried out, "Oh, +mother, mother, mother! what is the matter? You are ill."</p> + +<p>"Ay, Isabel, I am ill, and it would be a miracle if I were not ill." The +words came slowly and with effort, and Isabel was terrified by her +mother's face, for it was gray as ashes, and had on it an expression of +terror, as if she had looked on Death as he passed her by.</p> + +<p>"Lie down, mother. You ought to lie down."</p> + +<p>"Get me a glass—a big glass—of red Burgundy."</p> + +<p>Isabel obeyed, and when she had drunk it, she said in something of her +natural voice and manner, "Burgundy is the strong wine. It is full of +iron, and we require plenty of iron in our blood. In the common crowd, +it goes to their hands, and helps them to work hard, but in the Campbell +clans, it goes to the hearts of both men and women."</p> + +<p>"And makes them hard-hearted."</p> + +<p>"Hard to their own, and worse to their foes—and to strangers. Oh, +Isabel, Isabel, this is the blackest day I have ever seen! What shall we +do?"</p> + +<p>"Bear it. Others have borne the like. We can."</p> + +<p>"I can never look my friends in the face again."</p> + +<p>"Never mind either friends or foes. In nine days they will have said +their say. Let them."</p> + +<p>"Yesterday at this hour, I was the proudest and happiest woman in +Glasgow. To-day I am——"</p> + +<p>"The bravest woman in Glasgow. Defy your trouble, as you always do. +Christina's conduct is most unusual, and few will understand it—they +can't. But, oh mother, stand by your daughter! Tell every one, that when +she found out she loved Mr. Rathey better than Sir Thomas Wynton, she +did what was honorable and womanly, and that you admire her truth and +sincerity, though of course, somewhat disappointed. Such words as these +will silence the ill-natured, and satisfy the friendly. You will say +them, mother?"</p> + +<p>"Something like them, no doubt."</p> + +<p>"And we must find Christina, and you will forgive her, and protect her?"</p> + +<p>"I will do no such things."</p> + +<p>"It would stop people's tongues."</p> + +<p>"Their tongues may clash till doomsday, ere I will stop them that gate. +Never name the wicked woman to me again. I do not know her any more, and +I do not want to know, whether she is living or dead, in plenty or +poverty, sick or well, happy or miserable. She is out o' this world, as +far as I am concerned. <i>Sure!</i>"</p> + +<p>"What did Robert say?"</p> + +<p>"Threw the whole blame on mysel'—evil be to him!"</p> + +<p>"Mother!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, evil be to the son who condemns his mother, whether she be right +or wrong."</p> + +<p>"He will not get Sir Thomas to invest money in the works now, I fear. +That will trouble him."</p> + +<p>"Weel! The Campbell furnaces have kept blazing so far, without Wynton +siller to help them, and their fires willna go out for the want o' it."</p> + +<p>"I wonder how Sir Thomas will take his disappointment."</p> + +<p>"It is untelling how any man will take anything. You couldna speculate +as to how Robert Campbell would take a plate o' parritch; he might like +them, and he might send them to the Back o' Beyond. All men are made +that way, and we poor women can only put up wi' their tempers and +tantrums. God help us!"</p> + +<p>At this moment Jepson entered with a basket filled with moss and purple +pansies. A card was attached bearing the following message:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"<i>Sir Thomas Wynton sends sincere sympathy, and kind regards to +Mrs. and Miss Campbell. He will not intrude on their grief at +present, but will call in a few days.</i>"</p></blockquote> + +<p>Isabel laid her face against the flowers, Mrs. Campbell read the card +with pleasure, and a slight flush of color came back to her cheeks.</p> + +<p>"This bit of card will give me the upper hand of a' the clashing jades, +who come here wondering and sighing, and doubting and fearing. I shall +shake it in their faces, and bid them tak' notice that Sir Thomas Wynton +is still in the family as it were. And I shall make one other observe +anent the marriage failure, that Sir Thomas will take as personal, any +and all unpleasant remarks concerning the Campbells."</p> + +<p>"When Sir Thomas pays his visit——"</p> + +<p>"You be to see that Dora is present. The creature has a wonderful way o' +saying consoling words. I hae noticed that all men find her pleasant and +satisfactory. She has the trick o' speaking just what they want to +hear—the jade!"</p> + +<p>"Do speak decently of Dora, mother. She is Robert's wife."</p> + +<p>"More's the pity. God help the poor man! Little pleasure he has wi' +her."</p> + +<p>"It is not her fault."</p> + +<p>"I see how it is—she will lead you wrong next."</p> + +<p>"No one can lead me wrong. I wonder if Sir Thomas went to see Robert +to-day."</p> + +<p>"I think Robert would go and see him. We may wonder all day, but we will +know, when Robert comes home; that is, if his temper will let him talk. +<i>Dod!</i> but he is a true Campbell—flesh, blood, and bone."</p> + +<p>"When Robert was in love with Dora, love made him a kind, good-tempered +man."</p> + +<p>"Kind men are not profitable in a house; they give where they ought to +grip; and it is a sma' share o' this world you will get wi' good temper. +You be to threep, and threaten for what you want, and the fires in the +furnaces would soon burn low, if there was a kind, good-tempered man +watching o'er them."</p> + +<p>"Now you are talking like yourself, mother. You will soon put your +trouble under your feet."</p> + +<p>"Weel, I am not going to sit down on the ash-heap wi' it, as the parfect +man o' Uz did—if there ever was such a man—which I am doubting; all +the mair, because nobody I ever heard of could tell me in what country +on the face o' the globe a place called Uz might be found. If there isna +a place called Uz, it is mair than likely there never was a man called +Job."</p> + +<p>"The Bible says there was."</p> + +<p>"Ay, in a parable. The Bible is aye ready to drop into a parable."</p> + +<p>"Mother, if you would try and sleep now."</p> + +<p>"I will not. I would get sick if I did. I am on watch at present, for I +am not up to mark, and I will not gie sickness the fine opportunity o' +sleep. If Robert comes hame reasonable, I'll have my talk out wi' him. +I am not going to suffer his contradictions, not if I know it."</p> + +<p>Fortunately Robert came home early, and was in a civil and communicative +mood. He said "he had been to see Sir Thomas, and had been treated in +the most considerate manner."</p> + +<p>"What did he say about Christina?" asked Isabel timidly.</p> + +<p>"He would hear no wrong of her. He said she had written him a beautiful +letter, a most honorable letter, a letter he would prize to his dying +hour. He thought she had done right, both for herself and him. He told +me she had returned all his gifts, and he had directed the jeweler to +hold them for her further orders. He thinks she will be sure to call +there, in order to find out if they have been given to him, and he has +left a note with the jewels, begging her to keep them as a sign of their +friendship, and a reminder of the pleasant hours they have spent +together. A most unusual and gentlemanly way of looking at things, I +must say."</p> + +<p>"Will he take a share in the works now?" asked Mrs. Campbell.</p> + +<p>"I do not know. He is going abroad as soon as he has rearranged his +affairs. He said he would call on you in a few days."</p> + +<p>"He sent us some lovely flowers," said Isabel.</p> + +<p>"He is a most wasteful man."</p> + +<p>"He sent mother and me pansies in a lovely basket lined with moss; they +were to say for him he would 'remember' us. And he sent Dora the same +basket, filled with white hyacinths. Oh, how sweet they were!"</p> + +<p>"And what did they say?"</p> + +<p>"I looked for their meaning, and found it was 'unobtrusive loveliness.' +You see Dora rarely came into the parlor, when he called."</p> + +<p>"That may be so, but he had no business to notice her absence. +'Unobtrusive' indeed, and 'loveliness.' Some men don't know when they go +too far."</p> + +<p>"He meant all in kindness," said Mrs. Campbell, "and I hope he will +call."</p> + +<p>Sir Thomas kept his promise. Three days after Christina had so +mercilessly jilted him, he called on her mother and sister. But by this +time he had taken a still more exalted view of his false love's conduct. +He told Mrs. Campbell, that it was not sympathy, but congratulations, +that were due her. Was she not the proud mother of a noble daughter, +whom neither rank nor wealth could lure from the paths of truth and +honor? Of a daughter who held love as beyond price, and who would not +wrong either his or her own heart. He waxed eloquent on this subject, +and was tearful over the lost treasure of her noble daughter's +affection. And Mrs. Campbell smiled grimly, and wondered "if he really +thought she was silly enough to believe he believed in any such +balderdash."</p> + +<p>Isabel certainly believed in him with all her heart, and was never weary +of his chivalrous, exalted platitudes; and like all men in love +trouble, Sir Thomas was never weary of talking of his wounded heart, and +lost bride. So Isabel quickly became his favorite confidant. She +listened patiently and with evident interest; she helped him to praise +Christina, and when he got to wiping his eyes, Isabel was ready to weep +with him.</p> + +<p>In a couple of weeks he began to talk of his intended travel, and on +this subject Isabel was sincerely inquisitive and enthusiastic. The +strongest desire of her heart was to travel in strange countries, and +she asked so many questions about the trip Sir Thomas proposed taking, +that he brought his maps and guidebooks, and showed her his route down +the Mediterranean to Greece, up the Adriatic to Montenegro and +Herzegovina, over the Dalmatian mountains, through Austria and Hungary +to Buda-Pesth, northward to Prague, Berlin, and Hamburg, into the +Baltic, and so by Zealand and the Skager Rack across the North Sea to +England again. Oh, what a heaven it opened up to the reserved, solitary +woman!</p> + +<p>It was impossible for Isabel to hide her delight, and so when this trip +had been thoroughly talked over, he came one wet afternoon with the +books and maps explanatory of his last journey, which had been +altogether on the American continent. He showed her where he had hunted +big game in the forests of the Hudson Bay Company, and he described to +her the old cities of French Canada. Many afternoons were spent in +talking about New York, Chicago, St. Louis, San Francisco, and the +wonders of California, Alaska, and Texas. Finally, he carried her to +Brazil and Cuba, to the West Indies and to the beautiful Bermudas.</p> + +<p>In these parlor wanderings, she lived a life far, far apart from the +wet, dull streets of Glasgow, and the monotonous ennui and strife of +Traquair House; besides which advantage, both Sir Thomas and herself +lost in such pleasant loiterings the first sore pangs of their bereaved +hearts. For obvious reasons, both Robert and Mrs. Campbell tolerated +these—to them—tiresome recollections. Robert considered the baronet +yet as a possible business contingent; and Mrs. Campbell silenced all +doubtful sympathizers with remarks about his friendship, and his +constant visits. One Sabbath she managed affairs so cleverly, that he +even went to Dr. Robertson's church, sat in their pew, and returned home +to dine with them. The next day he started on his two years' travel, +promising to write Isabel descriptions of all the wonderfuls he saw.</p> + +<p>On the night of the same day, Robert called together the women of his +household and in the bluntest words told them the strictest economy was +hence-forward to be observed. He said the wastrie of the past three or +four months was unbelievable, and it had to be made up by a steady +curtailment of all household expenses. Then turning to his mother he +asked, "in what direction she thought it best to begin?"</p> + +<p>She answered promptly: "You are right, Robert. The expenses of the +house have been very extravagant, and retrenchment is both wise and +necessary. I think in the first place we ought to reduce the number of +servants. One man can be spared from the stable, and the second man in +the house is not a necessity. McNab must do with one kitchen girl, +instead of two; and your son no longer needs a nurse. A boy of his age +ought to wait on himself."</p> + +<p>"David has not needed a nurse for a long time."</p> + +<p>"<i>Who</i> did you say?"</p> + +<p>"David."</p> + +<p>"I ordered you not to call the boy by that name, in my presence."</p> + +<p>"It is his baptismal name. He has no other name."</p> + +<p>"Call him Nebuchadnezzar, or Satan, or any name you like in your own +room, but in my presence——"</p> + +<p>"His name is always David. I was going to remind you that Ducie has been +a general servant in the house for many months. She has assisted your +chambermaid, helped McNab in the kitchen, and Jepson about the table. I +think she has been the most effective maid in the house."</p> + +<p>"She may have been chambermaid, cook, and butler rolled into one, but +she is not wanted here, and the sooner she finds her way back to Kendal +the better every one will like it."</p> + +<p>Then Theodora quietly gathered the silks with which she was working, and +without noise or hurry left the room. She heard her mother-in-law's +scornful laugh, and her husband's angry voice as she closed the door, +but she allowed neither to detain her in an atmosphere so highly charged +with hatred and opposition.</p> + +<p>In about an hour Robert strode into her parlor, and with a lowering face +and peevish voice asked: "Why did you go away?"</p> + +<p>"There was no further reason for my presence, and more than one reason +why it was better for me to go away."</p> + +<p>"It is evident you feel no interest in the curtailment of my expenses."</p> + +<p>"I am sure that curtailment is not necessary. You gave your shareholders +a dividend of ten-per-cent a short time ago, and you are always +complaining that the business is too large for you to carry alone. And I +do not see that there is the smallest curtailment in your personal +expenses."</p> + +<p>"Pray what have you to do with my personal expenses?"</p> + +<p>"I speak of them because I personally have no expenses from which to +draw conclusions."</p> + +<p>"I suppose you have as many personal expenses as any other woman. My +mother thinks you have more."</p> + +<p>"Your mother grudges me the little food I eat. How much money have you +given me during the six years I have been your wife?"</p> + +<p>"I have paid all your bills."</p> + +<p>"What kind of bills?"</p> + +<p>"All kinds."</p> + +<p>"No. You have paid for a physician when I was sick—nothing else. I have +bought little new clothing, and what I have bought I paid for."</p> + +<p>"You did not require new clothing."</p> + +<p>"When it was to renew and alter, I paid all expenses with my own money."</p> + +<p>"<i>You! You have no money!</i> All the money you have is mine. I have +allowed you to use it for your personal expenses. Many husbands would +not have done so."</p> + +<p>"It was my money, Robert. I made it before I even knew your name."</p> + +<p>"It was all my money the moment you were my wife."</p> + +<p>"It is all gone now. I had to borrow a sovereign from Ducie."</p> + +<p>"Good gracious! What an absurdity! What did you want with a sovereign? +You have credit in half-a-dozen shops."</p> + +<p>"I wanted money, not credit. I cannot buy stamps, stationery, music, +medicine, and many other things with credit. And the church wants cash +always. I cannot pay church dues with credit. When I borrowed a +sovereign from Ducie I wanted a prescription of Dr. Fleming's made up."</p> + +<p>"You have credit at Starkie's."</p> + +<p>"Starkie does not make up prescriptions. I had to send to Fraser's and I +have no credit at Fraser's."</p> + +<p>Then he threw a sovereign on the table and said: "Pay Ducie at once. I +do not want her chattering all over Glasgow and Kendal."</p> + +<p>"So you have decided to send Ducie away?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"She is all that is left me of my old happy life. Oh, Robert, Robert! +have some pity on me."</p> + +<p>"My mother and sister are giving up three servants. Surely you can +relinquish one."</p> + +<p>"It is Scot in the stable, who gives up his helper. It is Jepson in the +house, it is McNab in the kitchen. None of these three servants affect +your mother's and sister's comfort in the least. Ducie is everything to +David and myself. She keeps our rooms clean and comfortable, brings my +breakfast, waits on me when I am sick, walks out with David when I am +not able to do so, and in many other ways makes things more bearable. I +beg you, Robert, not to send her away."</p> + +<p>"Then the other three servants must also remain."</p> + +<p>"You are not poor, you only feel poor because you spent so much on +Christina."</p> + +<p>"Who was a wicked failure, and mother says you were the prompter of her +sinful conduct."</p> + +<p>"Me! I had no more to do with her final choice than your mother had. I +did not even know the name of the man she married."</p> + +<p>"But you talked sentiment, poetry, honor, and such stuff to her."</p> + +<p>"Never. She would not have understood me if I had."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"What I say, Christina turned sentiment, poetry, honor, and such stuff, +into laughter. She saw only one side of any person or thing—the comic +side. If she could mimic you, she partly understood you; if she could +not mimic you, then you were uninteresting and unknowable. But Christina +was as kind to me as she could be to any one. She is gone, and I have no +friend left here."</p> + +<p>"Am I not your friend?"</p> + +<p>"You are my husband. I have had many friends, none of them were the +least like you."</p> + +<p>"A poor man between his mother and his wife is in a desperate fix."</p> + +<p>"He is, because he has no business to be in such a position. It is an +unnatural one—a forbidden one. Until a man is willing to give up his +mother, he has no right to take a wife. Under all conditions it must be +one or the other; the two existing happily together are so rare, that +they are merely exceptions that prove the rule."</p> + +<p>"It would have been very hard on my mother, had I given her up for a +wife."</p> + +<p>"Yet your mother took her husband away from his mother, and so backward +goes it, to the Eden days of every race. And you also made the same +mistake that Rebekah told Isaac she was weary of her life for—you +married a stranger, and because of this, she is continually asking, as +Rebekah did, What good is my life to me with this daughter of Heth under +my roof? And also she has made our lives of no good to us!"</p> + +<p>"Is it not my duty to love and honor my mother? Is it not right?"</p> + +<p>"It is your duty, and your right also, to love and honor the wife whom +you have persuaded to leave her father and mother, her home and +friends."</p> + +<p>"Then the right of the mother, and the right of the wife, are both +positive?"</p> + +<p>"So positive that both cannot be served in the same place, and at the +same time; for the one right will be broken to pieces against the other +right, since there is no community of feeling between the family claim +of the mother and the moral and natural claim of the wife."</p> + +<p>"Then what is a man to do?"</p> + +<p>"'A man shall leave father and mother, and cleave unto his wife.' That +is the imperative, and ultimate decision of the God and Father of us +all. And if it were not the nearly universal rule, what miserable, +loveless children would be born, and how the jealous, quarrelling +families of the earth would have become hateful in God's sight. We have +only to consider our own case. Until your mother came between us, we +loved each other truly, and were very happy."</p> + +<p>"A man with a big business, Dora, has something else to think of than +love."</p> + +<p>"In his hours of business, yes; but in his hours of relaxation, his love +ought to rest and refresh him." There was a movement in the next room, +and Theodora went there with light, swift steps. Robert was walking +moodily up and down, and through the open door he saw her kneeling by a +large chair, and David's arms were round her neck, and she was telling +him he must now go to bed. "Were you tired, that you fell asleep here?" +she asked, and he answered: "I was waiting for you, mother, to hear my +prayer, and kiss me good-night; and the sleep came to me."</p> + +<p>Then she sat down, and David knelt at her knees, and said the Lord's +prayer, adding to it a petition for blessing on his father, his +grandmother Campbell, his aunts Isabel and Christina, his grandfather +and grandmother Newton, and his dear mother, with a final petition that +God would love David and make him a good boy. It was a scene so sweet +and natural that Robert stood still in respect to the simple rite, +vaguely wondering in what forgotten life he had spoken words like them.</p> + +<p>Then Theodora called Ducie, and gave the child into her care, but as he +was leaving the room he saw his father, and running to him, he said: +"Father, kiss David too." Robert's heart stirred to the eager request, +and he lifted the little lad in his arms, and actually did kiss him. In +that moment the pretty face with its glances so free, so bright, so +seeking, without guile or misgiving, impressed itself on Robert's memory +forever. Even after the child had gone away, he felt as if he still held +him, and the consciousness of the soft, rosy cheek against his own was +so vivid that he put his hand up and stroked his cheek until the +sensation left him.</p> + +<p>He was really in a great strait of feeling, and, if he could not do +right of himself, was in a strait, out of which there was no other +decent way. He looked longingly at Theodora, who had resumed her work, +and her pale, passionless face touched him by its complete contrast to +the face he had just left—the hard, gossipy, pitiless, scornful face of +his mother. He could not forget his son's prayer. He knew it well, he +himself was never one to prompt, nor to correct, so it was certain that +Theodora had taught the boy to pray for those who constantly spoke evil +of her. He resolved to tell his mother of this incident, and again he +tried to read the feeling on his wife's face. It was not depression, it +was not sorrow, it was far from anger, there was nothing of indifference +in it, and nothing restless or uncertain. He did not understand it. How +could such a man as Robert understand a life of pure piety and +intelligence, working its way upward through love and pain.</p> + +<p>He sat down by her and touched her hand, but said only one word: +"Theodora!" She lifted her sad, lovely eyes to his. "Theodora!" he said +again, and she laid her hand in his, and whispered "Robert!" Then his +kiss brought back the color to her cheeks and the light to her eyes, and +when he vowed that he loved her and David more dearly than any other +mortals, she believed him; and found sweet words to excuse all his +faults, and to tell him he was "loved with all her heart."</p> + +<p>Was she a foolish woman to forgive so easily, and so much? It was +because she loved so much that she could forgive so much, and of such +loving, foolish hearts is the Kingdom of Heaven. For no love is so swift +and welcome as returning love. Even the angels desire to witness the +reunion of hearts that have been kept apart by fault, or fate, and as +for Theodora, she had the courage to be happy in this promise of better +days, knowing that she came not to this house by accident, but that it +was the very place God had chosen for her. Besides which, the heart has +its arguments as well as the head, and at this hour she was judging +Robert by her love, and not by her understanding.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<h3>THE LAST STRAW</h3> + + +<p>For a few days Theodora clung tenaciously to her hope, but it had only +told her a flattering tale. Robert had gradually fallen below the +plane—moral and intellectual—on which his wife lived; and it was only +by a painful endeavor, that he returned to the Robert of six years +previously. His wife's conversation, though bright and clever, was not +as pleasant to him as his mother's biting gossip about the house and the +callers; and he could assume a slippered, careless toilet in her +presence, that made him uncomfortable when at the side of the always +prettily gowned Theodora. For when such a circumstance happened, he +involuntarily felt compelled to apologize, and he did not think +apologies belonged to his position as master of the house. He had lost +his taste for music, unless there was some stranger present whom he +desired to make envious or astonished; in fact he had descended to that +commonplace stage of love, which values a wife or a mistress only +according to the value set upon her by outsiders—by their envy and +jealousy of himself, as the clever winner of such an extraordinary +artist, or beauty. Consequently, in a time of economy, forbidding the +entertainment of strangers, Theodora's hours of supremacy were likely +to be few and far between.</p> + +<p>But this fact did not trouble Robert. He came home from the works tired +of the business world, and the household chatter of his mother was a +relief that cost him no surrender of any kind. Yet had Theodora +attempted the same rôle, he would have seen and felt at once its malice +and injustice, and despised her for destroying his ideals and illusions. +Thus, even her excellencies were against her. Again, Mrs. Campbell +disguised much of the real character of her abuse, in the +picturesqueness of the Scotch patois; nothing she said in this form +sounded as wicked and cruel as it would have done in plain English. But +this disguise would have been a ridiculous effort in Theodora, and could +only have subjected her to scorn and laughter; while it was native to +her enemy, and a vivid and graphic vehicle both for her malice and her +mockery.</p> + +<p>Thus, when Robert was rising to go to his own parlor, she would say: +"Smoke another cigar, Robert, or light your pipe, boy. I dinna dislike a +pipe, I may say freely, I rather fancy it. It doesna remind me o' the +stable, and I have no nerves to be shocked by its vulgarity. God be +thankit, I was born before nerves were in fashion! And He knows that one +nervous woman in a house is mair than enou'. I am sorry for ye, my lad!"</p> + +<p>"It is not Dora's nerves, mother; it is her refined taste. She thinks a +pipe low, common, plebeian, you know, and for the same reason she hates +me to wear a cap—she thinks it makes me look like a workingman. Dora is +quite aristocratic, you know," and he mimicked the English accent and +idioms, and saw nothing repellent in an old woman giggling at him.</p> + +<p>"It is nerves, my lad," she answered, "pure nerves, and nerves are a' +imagination. Whenever did I, or your sisters, or any o' our flesh and +blood have an attack o' the nerves? Whenever did a decent pipe o' +tobacco, or the smell o' a good salt herring mak' any o' us sick at the +stomach? Was there ever a Campbell made vulgar, or low, by a cap on his +head? 'Deed they are pretty men always, but prettiest of a' when they +are wearing the Glengary wi' a sprig o' myrtle in the front o' it. +<i>Dod!</i> it makes me scunner at some folks' aristocracy. I trow, I am as +weel born as any Methodist preacher's daughter, and I have kin behind me +and around me to show it; but you can smoke a pipe, or cap your head, or +slipper your feet, and my fine feelings willna suffer for a moment."</p> + +<p>"You are mother—you understand."</p> + +<p>"To be sure I do. Poor lad, ye hae lots to fret ye, and nane need a pipe +o' tobacco, or an easy <i>déshabille</i> mair than you do; if you are +understanding what I mean by <i>déshabille</i>—I'm not vera sure mysel', but +I'm thinking it means easy fitting clothes on ye; that is my meaning o' +the word anyhow, and I don't care a bawbee, whether it is the French +meaning or not."</p> + +<p>"You are all right, mother. You generally are all right."</p> + +<p>"I am always all right, Robert; and that you find out in the long run, +don't ye, my lad?"</p> + +<p>Her conversation was constantly of this vulgar, commonplace type, but it +carried home veiled doubts and innuendos, as no other form could have +done; and it was homelike and familiar to Robert. With it as the vehicle +for her flattery and her iron will, she managed her son as no sensitive, +truthful, honorable woman could have done, unless she flung delicacy, +truth, and honor aside, and went down into moral slums to find her ways +and weapons.</p> + +<p>On the fourth evening after the promising reconciliation, Robert said: +"I want a whiff of strong tobacco, Dora. I have been fretted all day, so +I will go into the library to smoke to-night."</p> + +<p>"I will go with you, Robert. I do not believe the tobacco will make me +sick. You know when it did so, there were reasons why——"</p> + +<p>"You must do nothing of the kind, Dora. I cannot have you made ill, and +the fear of it doing so would take away all the comfort I might derive +from it."</p> + +<p>"But, Robert——"</p> + +<p>"No, no! I shall come to the parlor, and smoke a cigar, if you insist."</p> + +<p>"I shall not insist. You will not stay long away from me, dear?"</p> + +<p>"When my smoke is finished, I will come."</p> + +<p>Then he went to the library, and in a few minutes his mother followed +him there. As housekeeper, she had formulated less extravagant menus for +the table, and some other small economies, and their discussion was her +excellent excuse—if she needed an excuse, which she rarely did. Among +these economies, the dismissal of Ducie came to question again, and +Robert said he "thought Ducie would have to remain. Dora had set her +heart on keeping her," he continued, "and I think it will also be more +comfortable for me, mother."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense! It will not affect you in any way."</p> + +<p>"There is Dora's breakfast, who is to carry it upstairs to her?"</p> + +<p>"It is quite time that nonsense was stopped! Let the high-stomached +English 'my lady' come to the family breakfast table. It is good enou' +for the like o' her. But I'll tell you how it is. McNab has the habit o' +humoring her wi' dainties—mushrooms on toast, a few chicken livers, and +the like; and our decent oatmeal, and bread and feesh, arena as delicate +as food should be, for this daughter o' a poor Methodist preacher."</p> + +<p>"Come, mother, her father at least is a servant of God, one of His +messengers, and there is no nobility like to that in this world. You +know well, that Scotland has always paid more honor to God's servants, +than to the servants of earthly princes."</p> + +<p>"Scotsmen arena infallible in their religious views. I ken one thing +sure, and that is ministers' daughters hae been the deil's daughters to +me, and to my sons—vera Eves o' temptation wi' the apple o' sin and +misery in their hands for my two bonnie lads."</p> + +<p>"I wonder, mother, where my brother is."</p> + +<p>"He is dead. I comfort mysel' wi' that thought. Death was the best thing +that could happen him. The poor lad, not long out o' his teens, and tied +to a wife, and to the wife's mother likewise. Never was a finer lad +flung to the mischief than your brother Da—nay, my tongue willna speak +his name. Now then, remember your brother, and don't let your wife ruin +you, Robert."</p> + +<p>"There is no mother-in-law in my case—it is my wife that has the +mother-in-law," and he laughed in a grim, self-satisfied way.</p> + +<p>The mother-in-law in question was not offended, far from it; she laughed +too, and then answered: "Ay, the poor lass has the mother-in-law, but +you hae the mother, and be thankfu' for the gift and the grace o' her. +Your mother willna see you wronged, nor put upon. She'll back you up in +a' that is for your authority and welfare. She will that!"</p> + +<p>"Well, well! We were talking of Ducie."</p> + +<p>"Ducie is the backer-up against you, and she be to go to her ain folks +to-morrow. That is what I intend."</p> + +<p>"I do not believe you will succeed in getting rid of her."</p> + +<p>"If you will leave the matter entirely to me, I will rid the house o' +her."</p> + +<p>With this question unsettled between them, it was easy to make trouble, +and Robert was cowardly enough to leave it to the women, though he knew +well that a few decisive words from himself would put an end to the +dispute. Mrs. Campbell was glad he did not say them. She enjoyed the +thought of the probable fray, and only waited until Robert had gone to +business the next day to begin it.</p> + +<p>"Jepson," she then said, "you will tell Ducie to come to my parlor at +once."</p> + +<p>Ducie was expecting this call, and she was in the mood to stand upon her +rights, which released her from all obligations to obey Mrs. Traquair +Campbell's orders. So she loitered in her room putting curls over her +brow, in the way they were peculiarly offensive to Mrs. Campbell, adding +to this saucy misdemeanor earrings, and two pink bows, a ring on her +engagement finger, an embroidered apron, and slippers with rosettes +holding a small imitation diamond buckle. Before these preparations were +quite complete there was another very peremptory message for her, and +she laughingly told Jepson to inform his mistress, that she "hadn't made +up her mind yet, whether she would call on her, or not."</p> + +<p>Jepson toned down this message to a respectful apology for delay, and +Mrs. Campbell was on the point of sending another order, when Ducie +entered her room.</p> + +<p>"I sent for you to come <i>at once</i>. Why didn't you?"</p> + +<p>"I was busy."</p> + +<p>"What were you doing?"</p> + +<p>"Dressing myself."</p> + +<p>"You have dressed yourself like a fool."</p> + +<p>"Please, ma'am, that is something you have nought to do with. My +mistress told me how to dress. I am going out with her and Master David +to dinner."</p> + +<p>"Where are you going to dinner?"</p> + +<p>"I was not bid to say where."</p> + +<p>"You were bid <i>not</i> to tell me."</p> + +<p>"My mistress did not name you."</p> + +<p>"You cannot go out. You will help McNab in the kitchen until two +o'clock."</p> + +<p>"I am not forced to do anything you tell me, ma'am, and I don't know as +I ever will again."</p> + +<p>"You are a lazy, impudent baggage."</p> + +<p>"Now then, that will do, ma'am. You are the last that ought to speak of +my laziness, for I've been working for you three months, and never got a +sixpence, or a penny piece, for all I did. Thanks, I never expected; for +it's only black words you keep by you; and as for black looks, if you +could sell them by the yard, you might start an undertaking business."</p> + +<p>"Do you know who you are talking to?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, but I don't know as ever I talked with a worse woman."</p> + +<p>"I will make you suffer for your impertinence."</p> + +<p>"That's likely, for you hurt people out of pure wickedness."</p> + +<p>"Your month is up to-day at five o'clock. You will help McNab until two. +Then you will pack your trunk, and come to me for your wage. There is a +train for Kendal at four o'clock. You will take it. You will leave this +house at half-past three."</p> + +<p>"It caps all to listen to you. But the outside of this house is the +<i>right</i> side for anybody who expects decent treatment. I am going with +my mistress at half-past eleven, and I shall come back here with her, +when she returns. And thanks be, ma'am, I am not going to Kendal. I am +going to be married, and teach one Glasgow man how to treat a wife."</p> + +<p>"You will come to me at three o'clock for your month's wage."</p> + +<p>"You did not hire me, ma'am, and I don't take my pay from you. My +mistress is now waiting for me," and with these words she turned to +leave the room.</p> + +<p>"Ducie! Ducie! Come here instantly!"</p> + +<p>But Ducie had closed the door, and did not hear, at least she did not +answer. Then Mrs. Campbell followed her, and in something of a passion +assailed Theodora.</p> + +<p>"That impudent wench of yours has been behaving most rudely to me, Dora. +I want her until two o'clock, can you not make her obey me?"</p> + +<p>"I am going out to dinner, and need her very much. She has to take +charge of David."</p> + +<p>"Leave the boy at home."</p> + +<p>"I cannot."</p> + +<p>"Where are you going?"</p> + +<p>"To Mrs. Oliphant's. They are dining early to-day, and I shall be home +before dark."</p> + +<p>"That will be too late. I must have her now."</p> + +<p>"I cannot make her work for you, if she does not wish." Then turning to +Ducie she asked, "if she would not obey Mrs. Campbell's desire?"</p> + +<p>"No, ma'am," was the straight answer. "I would not lift a finger for +Mrs. Campbell."</p> + +<p>"You hear what she says."</p> + +<p>"She has talked in the most shameful way to me. I think Jepson must have +left the whiskey bottle around."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no! Ducie hates whiskey. She would not touch it."</p> + +<p>"Pay her what you owe her, and send her off."</p> + +<p>"I have no money to pay anything."</p> + +<p>"I will lend you the money."</p> + +<p>"I do not wish to discharge her. She satisfies me thoroughly. I see no +reason to send her away."</p> + +<p>"You have the best of all reasons—my order to do so."</p> + +<p>"I will ask Robert to-night."</p> + +<p>"You will ask Robert, will you? So shall I."</p> + +<p>Then Theodora called David, and the little lad came running to her. He +was wearing a kilt of the Campbell tartan, a small philabeg, a black +velvet jacket trimmed with gilt buttons, and a Glengary ornamented with +an eagle's feather. His frank, beautiful face, his strong vitality, and +his pretty manners were instantly notable, for when he saw his +grandmother was present, he lifted his cap and said: "Good-morning, +grandmother." She did not answer, though she regarded him a moment with +a pride she could not conceal, and as she left the room she told +herself: "The boy is a Scot, in spite of his English dam. He is a Scot, +even if he is not a Campbell, and please God we will mak' him a Campbell +yet."</p> + +<p>That day Theodora met at Mrs. Oliphant's a gentleman whom she had seen +there not unfrequently during the winter, an American called Kennedy, +and a very sincere friendship had grown up between them. After an early +dinner he asked permission to take David to a circus then in Glasgow, +and the boy's entreaties being added, Theodora could not resist them. +They went off in a hurry of delight, and finding herself alone with Mrs. +Oliphant, the long, carefully hidden sorrows of her heart burst forth in +a flood that bore away all pride, all restraint, and all the jealously +kept barriers of a long reticence and concealment.</p> + +<p>How it happened she never knew, but with passionate weeping she told her +friend all the miseries of her daily life, and the greater dread that +blackened and haunted her future—the terror lest David should be taken +from her, and sent to some severe, disciplinary boarding-school. Weeping +in each other's arms, the confession and consolation went on, until +Margaret Oliphant dared to say the words Theodora feared to utter.</p> + +<p>"You must take your child, and go where Robert Campbell will never find +you, until David is a man, and able to defend himself."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Margaret. I have been longing to tell you that I see no +other conclusion. But where shall I go? India, Australia, Canada, are +all governed by English laws, and so then, anywhere in these countries, +David could be taken from me, and my husband could force me to return to +his home. So much I have learned, from similar cases to mine, reported +in the newspapers."</p> + +<p>"You must go to the United States. There, you may work and enjoy the +money you earn; no husband can take it from you. There, you cannot be +forced to live with a husband who treats you cruelly, and I am sure no +court would allow a child of tender age to be taken from a mother so +properly fitted to bring him up. You must have a talk with Mr. Kennedy. +He can help you. He will be glad to help you."</p> + +<p>"I thought he had business here."</p> + +<p>"He has business he thinks of great importance. His wife is dead, and he +brought her two daughters to a school she remembered in Edinburgh, but +not being sure his children would be happy there, he is staying to watch +over them."</p> + +<p>"Are they happy?"</p> + +<p>"No. He is going to take them home again, when the school closes in +June—perhaps before."</p> + +<p>"Then, Margaret?"</p> + +<p>"Then you could go with him?"</p> + +<p>They went over and over this plan, constantly evolving new fears and new +advantages, and were yet in the fever of the discussion, when Mr. +Kennedy and David returned. It was both David's and Ducie's first visit +to a circus, and after a few minutes' rapturous description, they were +permitted to go to another room and talk over the enchanting scenes.</p> + +<p>Then Mrs. Oliphant said: "Come now, David Campbell, and tell your sister +Theodora how heartily you are at her service." And the supposed Mr. +Kennedy took Theodora's hands, and said: "My dear sister. I have known +all your sad life for the last half-year. I am here to help you."</p> + +<p>But Theodora looked amazed and even troubled, and he sat down at her +side and continued: "I am really David Campbell, your husband's elder +brother. I am also the foster-son of Mrs. McNab, and I have heard all +from her, and have been waiting here, knowing that the end to a life so +unhappy must come, and wondering that you have borne it so long."</p> + +<p>Then Theodora remembered that she had heard from Ducie, that McNab had a +son come home from foreign parts, and that he took her out frequently, +and gave her many presents. And she looked into her brother-in-law's +face for some trace of his relationship, but could find none. David +Campbell was more Celt than Gael, he was tall and slender, had a gentle +voice and a manner that could only come from a good heart. His whole +appearance was aquiline and American, and he was dressed in the loose, +easy style of a citizen of the great Western Republic. After a most +critical survey, Theodora was ready to confess, that his visits to McNab +were perfectly safe from detection.</p> + +<p>"I have sat with the servants in the kitchen, have eaten with them, and +heard all they could tell me of your life, Theodora; and now I am at +your service with all my heart."</p> + +<p>"Then tell me what to do."</p> + +<p>"First, let me go and see your father and mother. Your father will give +us good advice, and we will not move till we get it—unless some +desperate cause intervenes."</p> + +<p>"Thank you. That is what I wish."</p> + +<p>"Give me their address."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry——"</p> + +<p>"Say nothing, I entreat you! I have no other duty in Glasgow, but to +look after you, and my splendid little namesake. And I assure you, if I +saw any other way of bringing my dear brother to his senses, I would try +it first. But not until Robert has lost you, will he find out what you +really are to him."</p> + +<p>"Have you seen your brother?"</p> + +<p>"Many a time. I have even spoken to him, but he has no recollection of +me. He cannot, for he seldom saw me. I should not have known him if I +had met him anywhere but in the Campbell iron works. He is a hard master +to his men."</p> + +<p>"But there is another Robert, I assure you, a Robert I only know—or +used to know. He was a noble, generous man, a man I loved with all my +soul."</p> + +<p>"I believe you, and that lost Robert only wants proper surroundings to +give him a chance. See! We are going to educate that other Robert. I +love my brother, Theodora, and we will work together to make him happy +in spite of himself, and the other evil powers that now hold him in +thrall."</p> + +<p>"O, thank you! Thank you, David! I never had a brother, but have often +longed for one. You are a true Godsend to me."</p> + +<p>"With God's help I will be! Your father's home is in Bradford?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, he lives in Hanover Square, Bradford. Any one will tell you where +the Rev. John Newton lives."</p> + +<p>"I will leave by to-night's train. I will tell them all—for McNab has +told me all—and your father will send his advice back by me."</p> + +<p>With this comfort in her heart Theodora did not feel afraid, though she +had stayed until the night had fallen. Mr. Oliphant took her home in his +carriage, and Robert was compelled to thank him for his courtesy; but he +followed his wife into their parlor with a dark countenance, and asked +her angrily, "why she put herself under obligations to people like the +Oliphants?"</p> + +<p>"Are there any objections to the Oliphants?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"My mother has never trusted them, never. And you know this."</p> + +<p>"Your mother trusts no one."</p> + +<p>"Where is Ducie?"</p> + +<p>"She is attending to David's supper."</p> + +<p>"Call her!"</p> + +<p>"Will not a little later do?"</p> + +<p>"No, I want her now."</p> + +<p>"Ring the bell, then."</p> + +<p>He looked astonished at the order, but he obeyed it. Theodora had sat +down. Her face was sad and stern, and her eyes flashed so angrily he did +not care to encounter them.</p> + +<p>In a few minutes Ducie appeared. She came in smiling and curtsied to her +master when he said:</p> + +<p>"Ducie?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir."</p> + +<p>"You were told to leave this house forever, at half-past three this +afternoon. Why have you not done so?"</p> + +<p>"The party who told me was not my mistress."</p> + +<p>"Am I your master?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose so."</p> + +<p>"Then listen to me. Here is your quarter's wage. As you are a young +girl, I will not send you to the street now that it is dark. You may +stay until eight o'clock to-morrow morning. Then you will go."</p> + +<p>"I shall go to-night, sir. I will not take a favor from you, though I +have done this house many favors."</p> + +<p>"Robert, Robert!" cried Theodora, "consider what you are doing. Ducie, +do not go away yet—for David's sake—let me keep Ducie, Robert."</p> + +<p>"David will go to school in the autumn. He wants no nurse."</p> + +<p>"Then let her stop until autumn. Robert, dear Robert, I entreat you that +I may keep Ducie."</p> + +<p>"After her impertinence to my mother, it is impossible. You ought to +feel that."</p> + +<p>"<i>Oh dear, oh dear!</i>" Theodora covered her face with her hands, and +burst into passionate weeping.</p> + +<p>Immediately Ducie was at her side comforting her. "Don't, ma'am. Please +don't cry. Ducie knows it is not your fault."</p> + +<p>Then Theodora unfastened the brooch at her throat and drew a ring from +her finger.</p> + +<p>"Take them, dear," she said. "We ought to pay you for three months' +extra work, but I have no money. You know that, Ducie. Take these +instead. Keep them for my sake, dear. Oh Ducie, Ducie! you are my only +friend here, and they are sending you away. My God, my dear God, have +pity on me!"</p> + +<p>She spoke rapidly in a transport of sorrowful feeling; she forced the +trinkets into Ducie's hand, and walking with her to the door, kissed her +there; then sobbing like a little child, she fell upon the sofa in +hopeless distress.</p> + +<p>"What folly!" cried Robert. "Who would believe all this fuss was about a +common servant girl—a disobedient, insolent servant girl. Why did she +not obey my mother's order?"</p> + +<p>Then Theodora rose to her feet. She put tears away, and answered +proudly: "Because I was her mistress, and I told her to come with me."</p> + +<p>"You told her to disobey my mother?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. Your mother dismissed her without my permission. Suppose I had +called your mother's chambermaid, and ordered her to leave the +house—the cases are precisely the same."</p> + +<p>"Not at all; mother is mistress and housekeeper. When she ordered Ducie +to leave, that was quite sufficient."</p> + +<p>"Do you expect me to obey your mother's orders?"</p> + +<p>"I obey her orders."</p> + +<p>"If they were kind and just orders, I would do all I could to meet them; +when they are unjust and tyrannical, I will not obey them. I will be a +partner in none of her sins and cruelties; I know a better way, if she +does not. And I must have a maid, Robert."</p> + +<p>"I will tell mother to hire one for you. But we shall have no more +English girls, so do not expect what you will not get."</p> + +<p>"Would any English girl want to come to Glasgow, for the sake of +Glasgow? That is a difficult thing to imagine."</p> + +<p>"And I do not approve of you giving valuable jewelry away."</p> + +<p>"It was my very own. I had it long before I saw you."</p> + +<p>"It was scandalous of Ducie to accept it. She ought not to be allowed to +carry it away. You were not responsible when you gave it."</p> + +<p>"And if it is scandalous for Ducie, my friend, to take a gift of my +jewelry from my hands, what about the Campbelton women, who broke open +my trunk, and took out of its case my class ring of diamonds and +sapphires, worth eighty pounds; a ring my class paid for, and gave me. +You promised me it should be returned. It never has been. Do you pretend +that ring was yours? And is everything I possess yours? And do you +permit your kindred to help themselves to whatever of mine they choose +to appropriate?"</p> + +<p>"You possess nothing—the hair on your head is mine. I can sell it if I +choose. Your wedding ring is mine."</p> + +<p>"I believe nothing of the kind. It is incredible."</p> + +<p>"It is the law of England."</p> + +<p>"You ought to have told me those things before I was married. I was +beguiled into slavery. Why are girls in school not taught such things, +if, indeed, they are true?"</p> + +<p>"It is the law of England. Any lawyer will tell you so."</p> + +<p>"Then it is contrary to the law of the Holy and Just One, and I will +never acknowledge its right. I say, and shall always say, my class ring +was stolen; and that the person who took it was, and is, a thief. The +law may give you my clothing and ornaments, and your mother, assuming +your things to be hers, may give them away; and you may call it lawful, +but justice and equity would soon dispose of that legal fiction. I shall +always deny it. To falter in doing so, would be sin."</p> + +<p>In uttering these words she became a Theodora he had never before seen. +Her beauty was triumphant over both her anger and her sorrow. Her +splendid eyes stabbed him with their scornful glances; her air and +attitude was regal as that of Justice herself, and her words went home +like javelins. Mentally and spiritually, he cowered before her.</p> + +<p>So he took out his watch and said: "Dinner is served."</p> + +<p>"I want no dinner."</p> + +<p>He answered, "Very well," but there was the look in his eyes of a man +who knows he is defrauding his own soul. And though at that moment he +understood his mother's hatred of her, and believed that he himself +hated her, yet even then, at the root of his hate, there lay a secret, +ardent thirst for her love.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<h3>THEODORA MAKES A NEW LIFE</h3> + + +<p>It is not by grand or romantic events, that life is usually shaped; the +most trivial things are the ministers of Destiny, but no matter how +insignificant they may appear, they bring with them a sense of fatality +not to be put away. When the great dramatist would make Othello murder +Desdemona, he did not choose as a cause the loss of some priceless +necklace, or a diamond ornament, he knew intuitively that such a simple +thing as a pocket handkerchief would be more natural.</p> + +<p>So in Theodora's case, the everyday occurrence of a quarrel with a +servant girl was the culmination of years full of far more cogent +reasons, for her final decision to abandon a life which she was unable +to manage. But when Robert went to his dinner, and left her alone to +struggle with a defeat and a loss she felt so keenly she came to this +positive conclusion. In that hour her life was brought to the fine point +of a single word. "Yes" or "No," which was it to be? Would she accept +for herself and her child the wretched life she had unknowingly chosen? +Or, would she abandon it, and seek some happier environment? And after +half-an-hour's intense thought and feeling, she stood erect, and, +clasping her hands, uttered an emphatic "Yes!" Even at that hour, her +messenger was on his way to consult her parents, and she had little +doubt as to their decision. She believed they would bid her "Go in God's +name"; and fortified by that order, she would follow the advice David +Campbell gave her. He knew the United States well, and it was a +wonderful thing, he should have come home in this time of her trouble. +Surely he had been sent for her help and direction.</p> + +<p>She expected no word from her parents for about four days, but a ray of +hope had penetrated the gloom of her surroundings; and wrong and +unkindness took on a transient character. They were now merely passing +annoyances, she would have gone beyond their power in a few weeks at the +most. She resolved to make no more efforts to obtain justice, no more +efforts to win a man whom neither love nor entreaties could prevent +acting after his kind. She would now permit him to lay up grievances, +with which to wound himself when he could no longer wound her. A sense +of peace, coming from her acceptance of destiny, gave to her a singular +calmness of manner and countenance, and a renewed alertness of mind, and +mental lucidity.</p> + +<p>In the morning Ducie, wearing her hat and cloak, served her late +mistress and little David with their breakfast; then the three parted +forever. David cried bitterly; the women had no tears left. In +half-an-hour McNab came to remove the tray.</p> + +<p>"I would leave your room as it is, ma'am," she said. "It will be seen +to. Tak' my advice, and dinna lift a finger to it. Yoursel' and Master +David will be getting your breakfast ten minutes earlier, for I am going +to look after that bit business mysel'. You needna fret a moment anent +the matter. It's settled."</p> + +<p>"I do not intend to fret about anything, McNab."</p> + +<p>"That's right. It is a lang lane that has no turning. You are coming to +the turning, I think."</p> + +<p>"I think so."</p> + +<p>"But I wouldn't let on I saw it."</p> + +<p>"Neither by look, nor word."</p> + +<p>"That's right, too. If wanted, call McNab, but be sparing o' +calls—there is both watcher and listener. I'm telling you."</p> + +<p>"I know."</p> + +<p>Theodora smiled understandingly, and McNab left the room, but left +behind her a strong sense of guardianship and love. Yet just then McNab +was rather in the dark, for her foster-son had not had time to tell her +of his journey to Yorkshire. But uncertainty did not dash McNab, she had +one of those blessed dispositions that are always sure no news is good +news; and who always expect the "something" that may have happened, to +be something wonderfully auspicious.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps my lad had a word with her yesterday," she thought, "and +perhaps he is making a move—for he wouldn't move without her word. I +dare say that is just what has happened." She satisfied herself with +this belief, and to the hopeful and cheerful, good angels send their +heart's desire.</p> + +<p>So Theodora sat still and let the house go on. Not until she was +dressing for dinner did a maid come to attend to her rooms, but she made +no remark. A short time afterwards, the girl returned with a letter and +the information, that it had been opened by Mrs. Campbell through +mistake. It was from Theodora's publisher, and purported to contain a +check for seventy pounds and fifteen shillings for royalties due her. +But the check was not in the letter. Her heart beat wildly, her cheeks +burned, she rose as if to go and inquire for it; but on second thoughts +she sat down and waited until Robert came into the room. Then she showed +him the letter. He barely glanced at it, then threw it on the table.</p> + +<p>"Will you ask your mother for my money, Robert? I want to buy David and +myself some necessary clothing."</p> + +<p>"I have the check."</p> + +<p>"Give it to me, Robert. I need it so much."</p> + +<p>"I put it in my pocket-book, because it is mine. I give it to you, +because I choose to give it to you. Most husbands would not do so."</p> + +<p>"You need not at every opportunity tell me that I have no rights, and no +money, even if I myself have earned the money. One telling of such awful +injustice is enough. I wish to know if my letters are also yours?"</p> + +<p>"If I choose to claim them, they are mine."</p> + +<p>"Are they also free to your mother?"</p> + +<p>"If I choose to make them so."</p> + +<p>"Then I will do without letters."</p> + +<p>"You can please yourself."</p> + +<p>She did not answer, and he went into the dining-room. In a short time +she steadied herself sufficiently to follow him, but no one but Isabel +took the slightest notice of her. Mrs. Campbell was in high spirits, and +talked with her son in a jocular way about some event of which Theodora +was ignorant. Jepson watched her plate and saw that she was attended to, +and Isabel showed her disapproval of her mother's and brother's behavior +by a sullen silence. For she was slow-minded, and could think of no way +to express her sympathy with Theodora, except sulking at those who were +annoying her. But she rose from the table when Theodora rose, and when +Theodora said "Good-night, Isabel," she answered: "I should like to come +into your parlor for a few minutes—if agreeable."</p> + +<p>"You are very welcome, Isabel."</p> + +<p>"Thank you. I only wanted to say, that I had nothing to do with the +opening of your letter. I would no more open your letter, than I would +pick your pocket."</p> + +<p>"I am sure of that, Isabel. I wish you were my friend. I am very lonely +since Christina went away. Have you heard from her?"</p> + +<p>"Not one word. I am very lonely too. Good-night."</p> + +<p>And Theodora thought until sleep came of the girl's sad face, and pitied +her more than she pitied herself. For hope was building a new life in +her heart, and she looked forward to a future, that in its freedom, +beauty, and usefulness would atone for the present, and the past years +of her married life; but, oh the sameness, and ennui, and moral and +mental death of a life without aim or purpose, without love or +expectations, or sensible work to do.</p> + +<p>Early on the fourth day Mrs. Oliphant called, and brought Theodora a +letter. She professedly came to ask Theodora to drive with her, and when +her invitation was declined, did not remain many minutes. But Mrs. +Campbell watched her coming and going, and made plenty of sarcastic +remarks about both the lady and her dress, her carriage and her horses +and servants. Isabel was scarcely conscious of them. Since the loss of +her sister she had become still more severe, intense, and reticent; +besides which, though no one suspected the movement, Isabel was +considering a break in social custom, undreamed of by the severely +proper maidens of her set.</p> + +<p>It related to Sir Thomas Wynton. She had had a letter from him +describing his journey to Paris, and his present life in that city, and +he had asked Isabel to write him "all the news she could gather about +Wynton village, and their friends in Glasgow, and to add also anything +social, political, or religious she thought would interest him." And +this request had opened up a pleasant prospect of collecting and +arranging all the news she could glean from people, or from newspapers, +and then writing the result to Sir Thomas. It was a wild, a daring +thing for Isabel Campbell to attempt, but she had resolved to ask no +one's advice about the right or the wrong of it. She would decide the +matter for herself, and she was trying to do so while her mother was +mocking at Mrs. Oliphant's dress and general appearance.</p> + +<p>Meantime Theodora watched her friend away, and then went into her +parlor, locking the door after closing it. David was busy with his slate +and pencil in the music room, and she locked the door of that room also. +Then she sat down with her letter in her hand, and after a moment's +uplifting of her heart, she opened it and read the following words:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"<span class="smcap">My Dear Theodora</span>:—Your mother and I have thoroughly +considered all your good brother-in-law has told us. I will not +dwell on our surprise and sorrow. I will but say, that you +ought to put an end at once to a life which is dwarfing you on +every side, and must be fast ruining your husband's better +nature. For the cruelty and injustice done at first reluctantly +has evidently become to him a necessary alternative to the +dreariness of his business life. As some men find amusement in +badgering and baiting animals, he apparently satisfies the same +brutal instinct by baiting a wife whom our cruel laws has +placed in his absolute power. I counsel you to leave him before +conditions are worse, and some tragedy results. Take David +Campbell's advice as to the locality where you may dwell in +peace and safety. I approve what he has proposed to us so +entirely, that whenever you are ready to move, your mother and +I will go with you, though it should be to the ends of the +earth. Think a moment, and you will understand that you must go +with us, and not with your brother-in-law. I shall write to the +Chairman of Conference to-day and resign my pastorate, and you +know a Methodist preacher and his wife can move almost at a +day's notice. Our clothing is all we personally own. My future +is prepared for. There is nothing to fear. The Great Companion +will go with us. Wherever your new home is made, our home will +be made, and we will pray together for the man you still love. +He will return to you "clothed and in his right mind." Do not +doubt. Go away and rest your aching heart. Has the sun of your +love set? Some blessing lies in the night; do not fear the +darkness. Rest, and the sun of love will rise again. I append a +few reasons why you should at this crisis leave your husband. +If you are fully satisfied in your own mind, you can neglect +them.</p> + +<p>"1st. Habit reconciles us to much suffering, but a miserable +marriage is a trial no one has any business to have. It is +without excuse, and therefore without comfort. Submission to +evils God ordains is the height of energy and nobility; +submission to the mistakes we ourselves make is the climax of +weakness and cowardice. If two cannot live together in peace, +they had better separate than cause each other to sin every +day.</p> + +<p>"2d. If you know you are on a wrong road, leave it; a wrong +road cannot lead you right.</p> + +<p>"3d. If you are sick, and the surgeon's knife is necessary, do +not waste time with drugs and sedatives. Accept the knife as +restorative.</p> + +<p>"4th. If you make a mistake of any kind, it is your manifest +duty to rectify it, or to spring out of its shadow; and an +unhappy marriage is the most pathetic of all mistakes. If, +however, you have made an unhappy marriage, why should you give +permanency to wrong, and finality to suffering? There are no +elements of reformation in the irrevocable, it is a hell +without hope and without energy.</p> + +<p>"5th. You must not judge your position near the twentieth +century by the laws of Moses. The Church has gone back to them +for authority to burn witches, and buy and sell slaves, and +collect tithes, etc. We are come unto Bethlehem, and are not +under the laws of Sinai. The laws of England are cruel enough +to wives; there is no need to go back to Leviticus.</p> + +<p>"6th. Christ truly said, 'What God has joined together, let no +man put asunder.' What <i>God</i> joins together, no man can put +asunder. Poverty, sorrow, care, shame, helplessness only draw +the bond tighter. They go to the grave together, and with a +noble constancy look across the grave to an immortal +companionship.</p> + +<p>"I dare say, my dear daughter, you have thought of all these +things; think now of what good you can do each other by +separation:</p> + +<p>"1st. Robert is under wrong influences, while you are present +to provoke them. Day by day he is learning to be more and more +cruel. But when he has lost you, he will remember your +sweetness and goodness, and long for you,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'<i>For we never know the worth of a thing,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Until we have thrown it away.</i>'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"2d. That evil old woman is growing constantly in all malice, +cruelty, and sin. Be no longer an occasion for her wickedness.</p> + +<p>"3d. You yourself are wasting your life in Doubting Castle. +Hopeful found the key of it in his breast. Do likewise. You +ought to be in the very height and glory of your existence. You +are doing nothing, learning nothing, losing everything. Make a +change; you cannot make it too quickly. It will probably +ploughshare and harrow your heart, as the farmer ploughshares +and harrows the field; but after this preparation, you can sow +the seeds of your future happiness. Now all seed sowing is a +mystery, whether in the heart, or in the field, but sow in love +and in faith, and the harvest will truly better all your +expectations. Think well over your movements, but do not think +till you cannot act. Begin at once to prepare for what must be +done, keeping in mind the good motto of the Eighty-seventh +Regiment: '<i>Clear the Way!</i>' sweep every fear and doubt out of +it, all encumbrances of body or mind. Carry no old grudges or +offences with you, no sad memories. Step out into the new way +with a trusting, cheerful, childlike spirit, and be sure and +take the Great Companion with you. Mother will write you +to-morrow.</p> + +<p>Your loving parents,</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">John and Mary Newton</span>."</p></blockquote> + +<p>This letter "cleared the way," for Theodora, and with the daring +decision of fresh young faculties, she grasped the whole position +confidently. She saw that she must, for the present, give up her +husband—it was absolutely necessary and remedial. But she also saw a +future with him that should redeem the whole unhappy past. She saw it, +because from her long trial she had brought a three-edged spirit, +tempered and polished by the fires of many afflictions; and an Inner +Woman perfect—no member wanting, none sick or disabled, an Inner Woman +full-grown, ready for any emergency, with time for everything human. She +had also been much encouraged and strengthened by her father's prompt +preparation, and she told herself, as she carefully destroyed the +letter, that as the thing was to do, it were well to do it as soon as +possible.</p> + +<p>As if to urge her to this finality, her home became still more +uncomfortable after Ducie's departure. Day after day passed, but no girl +was hired in Ducie's place, and Mrs. Campbell's chambermaid never +reached Theodora's rooms, until it was time for her to dress for dinner. +Indeed, it appeared as if the girl had been ordered to wait until her +presence would be the most annoying. And in a few days, the question of +breakfast became a serious one. One morning Mrs. Campbell met McNab on +the stairway with the tray containing Theodora's and David's breakfast +in her hands. She looked angrily at the woman, and said in slow, +positive words:</p> + +<p>"Take that tray back to the kitchen!"</p> + +<p>"It is Mrs. Campbell's and Master David's breakfast."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Robert can come to the breakfast table, as well as I can."</p> + +<p>"And whar will Master David eat his mouthful? You hae said peremptor, he +shallna eat at your board."</p> + +<p>"He can eat with you—he can eat anywhere—or nowhere, for aught I +care."</p> + +<p>"Na, na! He will be Campbell o' the Campbell Iron Works yet, and he is +beyond eating wi' serving-men and lasses. I will just tak' the tray up +this morning, for my arms are aching wi' the weight o' it."</p> + +<p>"You will just take the tray to the kitchen."</p> + +<p>"That is the last order you will gie Flora McNab, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"Your threat is an old one, McNab; I'm not fearing it."</p> + +<p>"Nor me expecting you to be feared. When you dinna fear God Almighty, +why would you be fearing the like o' me? Out o' the way then, and let me +by you wi' the tray."</p> + +<p>Very uncomfortable was the family breakfast that morning. Something was +the matter with Jepson. Every dish was cold, and is there any food +nastier than cold porridge and cold boiled fish? Robert grumbled over +his plates, and Mrs. Campbell was equally cross, and still more +explanatory of her temper. About the middle of the meal, McNab entered +the room in her church bonnet, and her double Paisley shawl, pinned with +its large Cairngorm brooch. Robert looked at her in amazement, and with +a laugh that was not a pleasant one, asked:</p> + +<p>"Where are you going, McNab, so early in the morning?"</p> + +<p>"Back to the Hielands, sir. Pay me my wage, and I'll be awa' in time for +the Perth train."</p> + +<p>"You are not going to leave us?"</p> + +<p>"That is just what I am going to do."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!"</p> + +<p>"I'm not going to stop in this house, and see your wife and bonnie bairn +starved for food. The poor bit laddie is crying the now, for his bread +and milk, and your mother—wi' the hard heart o' her—willna let me gie +either the bairn, or his mother a mouthfu'; so I am going back to the +Hielands whar folks hae hearts—and Jepson is going likewise, and the +twa lasses are going. Pay me my honest wages, Maister Campbell, for I'm +in a hurry to get out o' hearing o' the starving baby, crying for his +bowl o' milk."</p> + +<p>"That will do, McNab. The Perth train does not leave until eleven +o'clock. Go into the library, I want to speak to you, and take Jepson +and the two girls there. I will come in a few minutes." He was obeyed +without a word, for he spoke with that tone and manner which compelled +even the leather-dressed, leather-masked men who fed his furnaces to +cower before him.</p> + +<p>When McNab and Jepson had left the room he turned to his mother and +asked: "Am I to pay them, and send them away?"</p> + +<p>"That would be unspeakable foolishness. I can not possibly do without +McNab and Jepson. The two other hizzies can go if they want to."</p> + +<p>"Then why do you meddle with McNab?"</p> + +<p>"It is not her business to wait on your wife and child."</p> + +<p>"Then whose business is it?"</p> + +<p>"No one's, at present."</p> + +<p>"Then see you find some one to-day whose business it will be to wait on +them. If you do not, I will take my wife and child myself to the +Victoria Hotel."</p> + +<p>"I am fairly worn out with the quarrelling and trouble your wife and +child make in the house. There is no pleasuring either of them. I have +sent two girls to her, and she wouldn't give house-room to one, nor the +other—decent girls, as I could find."</p> + +<p>"One of them was drunk when she called, and the other had never cleaned +a parlor, or made a bed in her life. It was kitchen work she wanted; and +she spoke Gaelic better than English. See that a proper girl is hired +to-day. It is an outrageous thing, to set me to sorting your servant +girls' wrongs. I shall tell McNab to serve my wife and child, until a +proper maid is found for them."</p> + +<p>But such disputes as this, common as they were on every household +subject, did not trouble Theodora, as they did when she had to face a +permanence of them. She knew now they would soon be over. They were +passing away with every hour. Besides this consideration, a great event +in life takes all importance out of small events, and she was so +occupied with the total change approaching her, that the trifle of Mrs. +Campbell's temper, or injustice did not seem to be much worth minding. +Her cheerfulness and good temper was an amazing thing to Mrs. Campbell, +who not understanding its reason, set it down to "Dora's aggravating +ways."</p> + +<p>"She thinks it annoys me," she said to Isabel, "she thinks it annoys me +to appear so indifferent to my just anger, but she has to thole it +anyway, and I'll wager, she likes it no better for all her smiling and +singing to herself."</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Campbell's just anger had now lost all its importance to +Theodora, for every one was practically ready for the change, though the +end of April was the date fixed unless some good or evil event +sanctioned an earlier movement.</p> + +<p>This event came unexpectedly, and in a different direction from any +anticipated. Robert left home one morning about the twenty-second of +April very uncomfortably. His mother had been complaining bitterly of +David's restlessness at night. She said he must be removed to the upper +floor. She was astonished that a boy of his age should want to sleep +near his mother. He must sleep beside Dora's maid for the future. She +could not have her sleep broken, at her time of life it meant serious +illness—and so on.</p> + +<p>After breakfast Robert spoke to his wife on the subject, and he was +amazed at the spirit she displayed. She said "David was sick last night. +I was fighting croup from midnight until dawn, and you know, Robert, how +alarmingly subject to this terrible disease he is. How could he be left +to a tired girl's care? She would not have heard that first hoarse cry +last night, and we might have found him dead this morning—strangled all +alone in the darkness. No! he shall not leave me, or if you say he must +go to the servants' floor, then I will go too."</p> + +<p>With this subject still in abeyance Robert left her. Then Mrs. Campbell +sent servants to remove the boy's cot to the maid's room, and Theodora +positively refused to allow its removal, sending the men away, and then +locking her doors. She was quivering with fear and feeling, when Robert +unexpectedly returned home. He said the mail had brought him bad news. +He had been informed that Sykes and Company of Sheffield—who were +heavily indebted to him—had failed, and he must go to Sheffield at +once. He told Theodora to pack his valise for a two weeks' stay, while +he went into the city for a certain accountant, whom he proposed to take +with him, in order to examine the books of the delinquent firm.</p> + +<p>"Pack my valise for a two weeks' stay." The poor wife trembled through +all her being. It was the order for her own departure. The packing of +his valise would be the last act of the sorrowful drama of her marriage. +It was the last time she would ever do him the service. <i>The last time!</i> +Every garment had a tragic look. She touched them tenderly. Her +unchecked tears dropped upon them. If it was not for David's sake, she +doubted whether she could carry out her intentions—but her child, her +child! They wanted even now to separate them in their home, in a few +weeks they might take him entirely away from her. His old enemy Croup +would find him alone in the dark and some dreadful night strangle him. +He would be punished for faults he did not even understand, flogged, +deprived of food and companionship, tormented by cruel boys older than +himself—oh, she could not bear to continue her reflections, for the +boy's sake she must leave his father. And then a kind of anger at the +father followed in the steps of her grief. If she could have trusted his +father to defend him in all cases, it need not have been; but she could +see, even in the dispute concerning his sleeping-place, his father was +inclined to stand by the cruel wish of the grandmother.</p> + +<p>Oh, but the packing of that valise was a hard task! And when it was +strapped and locked, it seemed almost to reproach her. She was sitting +gazing at it, when Robert entered the room and caught the look of love +and despair which filled her eyes, and saddened her face and her +attitude. In spite of himself it flattered him. He was astonished at her +devotion, but it comforted him. His mother had been angry when she +heard of Sykes and Company's failure. She had reminded him of her advice +to have nothing to do with them—had told him "Sykes looked shifty and +rascally, and her words had come true, and perhaps he would believe her +next time she gave him good advice." But Theodora had been full of +sympathy, and had given him only kind and encouraging words.</p> + +<p>His manner was so unusually gentle, that she ventured to say: "I am +afraid to be left here without you, Robert. They will take David from +me, or I shall have a fight to keep him. It hurts me so, dear, what am I +to do? Will you tell mother to let David's sleeping-place alone until +you come back?"</p> + +<p>He was silent for a moment, then he answered: "Take David and go and see +your own father and mother. You could stay ten or twelve days. When I am +ready to come home, I will telegraph you to meet me at Crewe Station, +then we can make the journey back together."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Robert, Robert! Oh, you dear Robert! What a joy that will be to +David and myself! How shall I thank you?"</p> + +<p>"Never mind the thanks. Now I must go. I have not a minute to spare."</p> + +<p>"Davie is in the next room."</p> + +<p>He went to the child's cot, and stood a moment looking at him. He was +not yet recovered from the night's awful struggle, but he opened his +eyes and stretched upward his arms, and Robert could not resist the +silent appeal. Thank God, O thank God, he stooped and kissed him, and +felt the little arms around his neck in a way that amazed him! Then he +looked at Theodora and lifted his valise. The carriage was at the door, +his mother was hurrying him, he said: "Good-bye, Dora. I will telegraph +you about Crewe."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Robert. Please say so before mother, or she may try to +prevent my going." Her eyes were fixed on him. There was a piteous +entreaty in them—would he not kiss and embrace her also? Oh, if he knew +it was the last time! If he only knew it! The thought was full of +passionate longing. He could not but feel it. He was just going to take +her hand, when Mrs. Campbell opened the door and said fretfully:</p> + +<p>"You will miss your train, Robert—delaying and delaying for nothing at +all."</p> + +<p>"I was telling Dora to go home on Friday, and see her parents for twelve +days or more. I will meet her at Crewe, and we shall come home +together."</p> + +<p>"Very well. I'll be gey and thankful to have the house to ourselves for +a few days—or forever."</p> + +<p>Robert was hastening to the carriage and did not hear her reply, but +when it was about to move, he bent forward and looked at the door he was +leaving. Theodora stood on the steps. Her heart was in her eyes, her +hands clasped above her breast. She saw him bend forward, and leaned +towards him smiling. Never throughout all his life days did he forget +that last glimpse of the beautiful woman who that morning watched him +out of her sight. When he was quite gone she turned into the house with +that sense of completeness so essential even to the sorrowful. She had +seen the last of her husband. The bitterness of the separation was over. +She went to Davie and let him comfort her, then she dressed the boy, and +left him in the care of McNab; for she knew that she must go to Mrs. +Oliphant's without delay. The door had been set wide open for them, and +they must make the best of the opportunity; or perhaps lose their lucky +hour forever.</p> + +<p>Fortunately David Campbell was at Mrs. Oliphant's, having returned from +Edinburgh not ten minutes previously. He heard Theodora's tidings with a +calm pleasure. "We are ready," he said. "Your father and mother have +been in Glasgow for a week. They are boarding at a house in Monteith +Row, a pretty locality on Glasgow Green."</p> + +<p>"Oh, David, were you not afraid?"</p> + +<p>"Not at all," he answered, "the Campbells are exclusive West-Enders. +They would be as likely to go near Monteith Row as to go to Ashantee. +Your parents are known as Mr. and Mrs. Bell. You must not try to see +them until you meet on the steamer."</p> + +<p>"Very well. When shall we sail?"</p> + +<p>"This is Tuesday. The Anchor Line have a good boat sailing at noon, +Saturday. Can you be ready?"</p> + +<p>"Easily. About your daughters?"</p> + +<p>"They are ready. They will be here Friday, or perhaps Thursday. Now I +will go and secure the four best staterooms possible. I shall take them +in the name of Kennedy—and that will be our name, until we reach New +York."</p> + +<p>Theodora remained with Mrs. Oliphant until David returned with the +tickets for the four staterooms. She felt then, that there was no +reprieve, and that her first duty now was to be as cheerful and brave as +she ought to be. On reaching home, she found that David's cot had been +carried to the maid's room, but she made no complaint. The fact swept +away all doubts and misgivings; it was the last injustice, the last +cruelty that could be inflicted, and it was a vain one, for David could +sleep with her, until the end came.</p> + +<p>On the following morning, she asked Jepson to send to her room the +smallest of her trunks, and she put into it a few things belonging to +her girlhood's life—her music, her textbooks, a novel she had nearly +finished writing, and the beautiful linen she had made and embroidered +with her own hands for her marriage outfit. Two dresses were all that +remained of the gowns bought at this date. These she took with her. In +her hand she would carry a Gladstone bag with toilet necessities, and +plenty of clean white waists and collars for David and herself. Their +suits, bought with reference to this necessity, were of dark blue cloth; +David's made into his first breeches and jacket, and Theodora's in the +simplest manner possible, but as Mrs. Campbell said to Isabel:</p> + +<p>"Plain, of course. But look at the lines and the make o' it! Menzie's +cutting and fitting no doubt. It cost five guineas to make that dress +and the cloak with it. She's a wasteful creature."</p> + +<p>"Robert said she bought it herself, and——"</p> + +<p>"So she ought, so she ought! And the boy dressed up in broadcloth and +linen waists! A few yards of lindsey would be more fitting."</p> + +<p>"Mother, he is a beautiful boy."</p> + +<p>"Is he? I cannot see myself where his beauty comes in."</p> + +<p>During the next two days Theodora employed herself in folding carefully +away all her clothing, and locking it up in its proper drawers. Her +jewels she packed separately, and with a letter, put into McNab's +charge, requesting her to give them to Mr. Campbell, if she did not +return with him. When Friday morning came, she rose early, dressed +herself and David, and was ready for the train that left just about the +time the Campbell breakfast was served. In this way, she hoped to escape +the presence of Jepson, whom she feared might be told to accompany her. +On the contrary, Mrs. Campbell grumbled at Jepson for helping the +coachman with her trunk, and the only question she asked was: "What road +did she take, Jepson?"</p> + +<p>"The Caledonian, ma'am," was the answer.</p> + +<p>"Hum-m-m! I thought so."</p> + +<p>"Has she gone?" said Isabel.</p> + +<p>"Yes, and a good riddance of her."</p> + +<p>"Oh, mother, and none of us bid her good-bye, or wished her a pleasant +time. I intended to go to the train with her—now I have missed——"</p> + +<p>"Making a fool of yourself. That is all you have missed."</p> + +<p>"What train would Mrs. Campbell take, Jepson?"</p> + +<p>"The nine o'clock train, I suppose, miss."</p> + +<p>But Theodora did not take the nine o'clock train. She gave a porter a +shilling to care for her trunk, and watched an hour in a waiting-room. +No one suspicious appearing, she requested the porter to call a cab, and +put her trunk upon it, and then without fear or hurry, she drove to a +certain store, where David Campbell was waiting. He went with her at +once to the pier of the Anchor Line, where they left her trunk to be +placed with the rest of the Kennedy luggage in the hold. "And now, where +will you hide yourself until to-morrow morning, Theodora?" he asked +kindly.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Oliphant——"</p> + +<p>"No. She wants you, but I told her it could not be. Her servants will be +closely questioned, no doubt."</p> + +<p>"I see."</p> + +<p>"The steamer touches at Greenock. Get a room in the Tontine Inn. Have +your food served in your room, and keep quiet until you walk down to +meet the steamer."</p> + +<p>"I will do so. It is the best plan."</p> + +<p>So they went to the railway station, and David Campbell put them into a +comfortable carriage for Greenock. "You will see your father and mother +to-morrow," he said. "They are as happy as two little children over the +journey. It is a great event for them, and they are talking of their +little grandson continually. They long to see him."</p> + +<p>Theodora hardly knew what was being said to her. She was in a kind of +dreamlike state—a state, however, in which no mistakes are ever made. +The Inner Woman had control, and she had quite resigned herself to its +leading. "David and I will meet the steamer in the morning. Be on the +watch for us, brother," she said.</p> + +<p>"I will. You will go to the Tontine?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly."</p> + +<p>"And if they should not have room for you there, then go to the——"</p> + +<p>"I will go to the Tontine. There is a room ready for me there."</p> + +<p>He looked at her kindly and understood. Those who have watched long, +solemn nights away with the Beloved One, slowly dying, know something +beyond the lines of science, or the teachings of creeds. He said +good-bye to her, without a fear of any mistake.</p> + +<p>At Greenock she found the prepared room in the Tontine, and she made +herself and little Davie comfortable, and then ordered their dinner to +be brought to them. She was glad of this pause in her affairs, and long +after Davie was asleep, she sat pondering the past and the future. At +first she was dazed and half-unbelieving of the great event that had +taken place in her life. In the darkness of the room, she fell into +short sleeps, and kept feeling around in the darkness of her mind to +learn what troubled her, until suddenly, in cruel starts from sleep, her +sorrow found her out.</p> + +<p>But this is the depth in our nature, where the divine and human are one. +Here, in our weakness and weariness, we are visited by the Upholder of +the tranquil soul, and words wonderful and secret, cheer the weary and +heavy-laden; for God has royal compassions for the broken in heart. +Theodora awoke in the morning full of hope, and in one of her most +cheerful moods. The road no longer frightened her, the ocean no longer +separated her. She had wings now for all the chasms of life, and when +she opened a little book for a word to clear the way, and the day, she +cried out joyfully, for this was her message:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"<i>The Lord is with me, hastening me forward.</i>"<a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> 1st Esdras 1, 27.</p></div> + +<p>At the time appointed the steamer reached Greenock, she was there to +meet it, and David Campbell was at the gangway watching for her. There +was a crowd of incomers and outgoers, and David was glad of it, for +Theodora with her child reached their stateroom without notice from any +one. There she found her father and mother, and the joy and wonder of +that meeting may well be left to the imagination.</p> + +<p>It had been decided, that until David found out whether any of the +passengers were sitters in Dr. Robertson's church, or people from any +circumstance likely to know Theodora, she should remain in seclusion; +but in a couple of days, David had clearly established the safety of her +appearance; and after that assurance, she was constantly on deck with +the rest of the party. All the way across the Atlantic they had a blue +sky, a blue sea, sunshine, and good company; and one morning they were +awakened by some one calling "Land! Land in sight!" and hastening on +deck they stood together watching their approach to the low-lying shores +of that New World which held for them the promise of a happy home and a +prosperous future.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<h3>CHRISTINA AND ISABEL</h3> + + +<p>Just about the time Theodora's party were sitting down to a happy dinner +in the Astor House, New York, Robert reached his home in Glasgow. He had +confidently expected to see his wife waiting for him at Crewe Junction, +and been disappointed and angry at her failure to do so. "Women are all +alike," he muttered to himself, "they never keep an appointment, and +they never catch a train." He wandered round the waiting-rooms looking +for her, and so missed his own train, and had to wait two hours at one +of the most depressing stations in England. For though the traffic is +immense there, the stony, prison-like order, the silent, hurrying +passengers, and the despondent-looking porters, fill the heart with a +restless passion to escape from the place. Without analyzing this +feeling, Robert was conscious of it, and it intensified the annoyance of +his detention.</p> + +<p>All the way to Glasgow he pondered on the singular circumstance of +Theodora's failure to obey the telegram he had sent her. She had always +been so prompt and glad to meet him, there must have been some mistake +made in the message. He tried to remember its exact words, but could +not, and as he neared his own city a certain fear assailed him. He +began to wonder if his wife or child was sick—or if any accident had +happened on their journey from Bradford to Crewe. But this solution he +quickly dismissed as incredible. Theodora would have managed under any +circumstances to send him word. She would not have kept him waiting and +wondering. It was utterly unlike her. At length the anxious journey was +over, but in hurrying from the train to his carriage, he noticed that +the coachman spoke in an easy, nonchalant way, and that there was no +sign about him of anything unusual or unhappy. When he reached Traquair +House his mother and Isabel met him at the door, and Jepson unlocked his +apartments, and began to turn on the light in the parlors.</p> + +<p>"We shall have dinner in twenty minutes, Robert," said Mrs. Campbell, +and Jepson added:</p> + +<p>"Your rooms upstairs are prepared for you, sir."</p> + +<p>No one had named Theodora, and he had not done so either. Why? He could +not tell "why"; for her name beat at his lips, and inquiry about her was +the great demand of his nature. He looked into her rooms, and the sense +of emptiness and desertion about them was like a blow. David's cot had +been removed, he saw that at once, and felt angry about it. And the +perfect order of things shocked something in his feelings never before +recognized. He missed sorely those pretty bits of disorder, that seemed +to him now almost a part of his wife and child—the bow of ribbon, the +little shawl or scarf over a chair-back, the small book of daily texts, +and the thin parchment copy of "<i>The Imitation</i>" on her table; David's +puzzle on the window seat, or his tiny handkerchief on the floor beside +it.</p> + +<p>Restless and unhappy he went down to the dining-room. His mother was in +high spirits; Isabel still and indifferent. But it was Isabel who asked: +"How much longer is Dora going to stay? The house is so lonely without +her."</p> + +<p>"The house has been peaceful and restful without her, and the noisy +child. I am sure it has been a great relief," corrected Mrs. Campbell.</p> + +<p>"I am anxious about Dora," said Robert with a touch of his most sullen +temper, "she ought to have met me at Crewe, and did not do so. It was +not like her."</p> + +<p>"It was very like her. She is the most unreliable of women. I dare say +we shall see her by the next train—perhaps we——"</p> + +<p>"Mother, you are mistaken both about Dora and the train. Dora can always +be depended on, and I waited for the next train, but she was not on it. +After dinner I must telegraph to Bradford and elsewhere."</p> + +<p>"Perfect nonsense! Let her alone, and she'll come home—no fear of it. +She was, however, keen enough to get away—off before we had +breakfast—and without a word to any one."</p> + +<p>"Mother," corrected Isabel, "that was our fault. She came to bid us +good-bye, but we neither of us spoke to her."</p> + +<p>"Drop the subject," said Robert in a manner too positive to be +disobeyed.</p> + +<p>He himself dropped every subject, and finished his meal in a silence so +eloquent, that no one had the spirit to break it. His mother looked at +him indignantly, his sister kept her eyes on her plate, and ate with a +noiseless deliberation, that was almost provoking. It was a most +wretched meal.</p> + +<p>"And all because that creature missed meeting him at Crewe," snorted the +angry mother as her son left the room.</p> + +<p>"You had better go to the library, mother, and find out what is the +matter. I dare say it is business—and not Dora at all."</p> + +<p>"I will go as soon as he has had a ten minutes' smoke. He is as touchy +as tinder yet, Isabel."</p> + +<p>But Robert did not go to the library. As he came out of the dining-room +McNab walked up to him, and he spoke more pleasantly to her than he had +yet done to any one since his return. "Good-evening, McNab," he replied +to her greeting, "I hope you are well."</p> + +<p>"As well as I ever expect to be in this house, sir. My dear young +mistress left these jewels in my care—fearing what happened once +before, sir—and I promised to keep them safe till you came home; the +same I've done. And she left this letter likewise for you, and I hope +there is no bad news in it, sir, for she was breaking her heart the day +she was writing it."</p> + +<p>"Breaking her heart? What about, McNab?"</p> + +<p>"They were going to take the bit bonnie bairn from her—and him every +night, as like as not, having a black life-and-death-fight wi' what they +ca' croup. You know, sir?"</p> + +<p>"I know, McNab. Thank you!" and instead of going to the library, he went +into his own parlor, and locked both doors leading into it. Then he sat +down with the letter in his hand. He looked at the neatness with which +it was folded, addressed, and sealed, and he had a sudden memory of the +joy and expectation with which he had once been used to receive such +letters. He had no fear of bad news. He expected only Theodora's usual +pleading for little David, and he thought it likely the removal of the +boy's cot typified a more than common dispute concerning the child.</p> + +<p>When he finally opened the letter, a small parcel fell out of it, which +he laid aside. Then he read without pause or faltering, the following +words:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"<span class="smcap">My Dear Robert</span>:—A little while ago, you told me all that I +possessed, that even my wedding ring, belonged to you. To-day I +restore you all that you have given me, and with my raiment and +ornaments, the dearest ornament of all—my wedding ring. You +have broken every pledge it promised. You have treated me, and +permitted others to treat me, with a sustained, deliberate +neglect and cruelty that is almost incredible. To-day I make +you free from all obligations to me, and my child. Do not try +to find us. You cannot. We shall disappear as completely as a +stone thrown into mid-ocean. But you know well, that I may be +fully trusted to do all my duty to David. Oh, Robert, Robert, I +cannot bear to reproach you! I love you, though I am leaving +you forever. My father and mother go with me, and God and they +are a multitude. I shall want for nothing but your love, and +that was taken from me long ago. My love, my love! Farewell +forever.</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Theodora.</span>"</p></blockquote> + +<p>Then he unfolded the bit of tissue paper which the letter contained, and +out of it fell the wedding ring. He laid it in the hollow of his hand +and looked at it. And as he looked, the storm in his heart gathered and +gathered, until all its waves and billows went over him.</p> + +<p>"<i>Gone! Gone forever!</i>" he said in an awful whisper—a whisper that came +from a depth of his nature never plumbed before; an abyss that only +despair and death know of. He rose and walked about, he sat down, he +re-read the letter, he tried to think, and could not. He threw off his +coat and vest, his collar and neckerchief; they lay at his feet, and he +kicked them out of his way. "I am choking—dying!" he murmured. "Dora! +Dora! Dora! Where are—you?"</p> + +<p>The unfortunate man was torn with the most contrary feelings. He loved +the adorable woman who had cast him off; and he hated her. Remorse for +his own neglect and cruelty alternated with anger at his wife for the +pain she was giving him. And she had robbed him of his child also, <i>his +child</i>! Oh, he would have the child back, if he moved heaven and earth +to compass it. There was no order, no method in his grief, one dreadful +accusation followed another like actual blows, from a hand he could +neither stay, nor entreat, nor reason with.</p> + +<p>In hoarse mutterings, and fierce imprecations, he gave voice to a +passion of grief and anger so furious, that ordinary speech utterly +failed it. Frequently he struck the table or the piano frenzied blows +with his hand—or he kicked out of his path chairs, stools, or whatever +came in his raging way. Even Theodora's embroidery frame was thus +treated, and then tenderly lifted and straightened, and put in its +place. His restless feet and hands, his distracted walk, his mad +motions, his distorted face and inflamed eyes, all indicated a tumult of +suffering and despair, rendered all the more terrible by the shrill +strain of half-religious oaths, which like flashes of hell-fire made the +blackness of darkness in which he suffered all the more lurid and awful.</p> + +<p>At length his physical nature refused to express any longer his mad +sorrow by motion. He fell prone upon the sofa, and clasping his hands +over his heart, he sobbed as only strong men in the very exhaustion of +all other expression of feeling can sob. By this time it was late, the +house was dark and still, and only the miserable man's mother was awake +and watching. She felt that there was sorrow in the house, and when +midnight came she went softly downstairs and stood at her son's door, +listening to the soul in agony, moaning, sobbing, accusing, blaming, +entreating, defying. She feared to let him know she was there and she +feared to leave him. She was at a loss to account for a passion so +amazing and uncontrolled. Stepping softly back to her room she +reconsidered herself. In a couple of hours there was the crash of china +falling, and her temper got the better of her fear. She went hastily and +without attempt at secrecy, to her son's door.</p> + +<p>"Robert!" she called, but there was no answer.</p> + +<p>"Robert, Robert Campbell, open this door!" and she shook the handle +violently.</p> + +<p>He rose with an oath, flung the door wide, and stood glaring at her from +eyes red and swollen and fierce with anger. "What do you want?" he +asked. "Can you not let me alone, even at midnight?"</p> + +<p>"What is the matter with you? Are you ill?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"Then what for are you sobbing and crying? I'm fairly ashamed for you. +Do you know it's two o'clock in the morning?"</p> + +<p>"I don't care what time it is. Go away."</p> + +<p>"I will not go. You are demented—or you are wicked beyond believing."</p> + +<p>"Go away!"</p> + +<p>"I will not. What, in God's name, is the matter?"</p> + +<p>"Theodora!" he shrieked, as he flung his arms upward.</p> + +<p>"O, it is Theodora, is it? I thought so."</p> + +<p>"She has left me, left me forever! She has gone, and taken my little +Davie with her."</p> + +<p>"Just what I expected."</p> + +<p>"Just what you drove her to."</p> + +<p>"Has that black-a-visored dandy staying at the Oliphants' gone with +her?"</p> + +<p>"Damnation, no! Her father and mother went with her."</p> + +<p>"She says so, no doubt. Do you believe her?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"Weel, I'm glad she's off and awa'. We'll hae a bit o' peace now."</p> + +<p>"My heart is bleeding, bursting; I cannot listen to you."</p> + +<p>"Such parfect nonsense! You ought to be thanksgiving. Who broke that +vase to smithereens?"</p> + +<p>"I did."</p> + +<p>"It cost twenty guineas."</p> + +<p>"I don't care a tinker's curse, if it cost a hundred guineas." He walked +to the mantlepiece and flung down on the marble hearth a valuable piece +of Worcester.</p> + +<p>"My God, Robert! Have you lost your senses?"</p> + +<p>"I have lost my wife and child."</p> + +<p>"Good riddance of baith o' them."</p> + +<p>"How dare you?"</p> + +<p>"Dinna say 'dare' to me."</p> + +<p>"Go away! Go instanter!"</p> + +<p>"You will go first. I'll not leave you alane."</p> + +<p>"If you don't go, I will call McNab and Jepson, and they will help you +to your own room. Do you hear me?"</p> + +<p>"Robert Campbell, go to your decent bed and sleep, and behave yourself."</p> + +<p>"My God, woman!"</p> + +<p>"I am your mother."</p> + +<p>"God pity me! I can't throw you down, but——" then he lifted a white +marble clock, and let it crash among the broken china. "Out of here!" he +screamed. His usually deep, strong voice had been rising with every word +he spoke, and his last order was given in a mad <i>alto</i> which terrified +the woman browbeating him. It was not Robert's voice; its shrill shriek +was the cry of extremity or insanity. She fled upstairs to McNab's room.</p> + +<p>"Waken! waken! McNab," she cried. "Your master has lost his senses. Run +for Dr. Fleming. Make him come back wi' you."</p> + +<p>"What hae ye been doing to the poor man?" she asked sleepily as she put +on her shoes.</p> + +<p>"Nothing, nothing at all. Just advising him. It is that English +cutty—she——"</p> + +<p>"Meaning Mrs. Robert Campbell?"</p> + +<p>"Call her what you like. It is her, it is her! She has taken the bairn +and gone."</p> + +<p>"Gone?"</p> + +<p>"Left her husband forever. Be in a hurry, woman. Don't you hear the man +raving like a wild beast?"</p> + +<p>He was not raving when McNab looked at him in passing. He was lying on +the sofa perfectly still, with his hands clasped above his head. So the +doctor found him a quarter-of-an-hour later. "You have had a great +shock, Campbell," he said.</p> + +<p>"A shot in the backbone, doctor. My wife has left me, and taken my son +with her."</p> + +<p>"I know! But were you not expecting her to do so?"</p> + +<p>"No, no! Why should I?"</p> + +<p>"How much longer did you think your wife could bear—what she had to +bear? Come, come, you must look at this trial like a sensible man! I +suppose you want to find her?"</p> + +<p>"It is all I shall live for."</p> + +<p>"Then you must sleep. I will go with you to your room, and give you a +sedative. You must sleep, and get yourself together. Then you will have +to make your face iron and brass, for all you will have to meet—advice +and pity, blame and sympathy, but you will carry your cup of sorrow +without spilling it o'er everybody you meet—or I don't know you. What +made you lose your grip to-night?"</p> + +<p>"Necessity, doctor. I had to, or——"</p> + +<p>"I know."</p> + +<p>"One towering rage was better than daily and hourly disputing. The +subject is buried now, between my family and myself. It was a +necessity."</p> + +<p>"Ay, ay, and when Necessity calls, none shall dare 'bring to <i>her</i> feet +excuse or prayer.' Your wife's flight was a necessity also. Keep that in +your mind. You are sleepy, I see; don't look at the newspapers till the +wonder is over."</p> + +<p>The newspapers easily got hold of the story, and each related the +circumstance in its own way. Some plainly said domestic misery had +driven the ill-used lady to flight; others spoke of her great beauty and +wonderful voice, and made suspicious allusions to the temptations always +ready to assail beauty and genius. None of them omitted the world-weary +taunt of the mother-in-law, and some very broad aspersions were made on +Mrs. Campbell's well-known impossible temper, and her hatred of all +matrimonial intrusions into her family. The story of her eldest son's +unsatisfactory marriage was recalled, his banishment and exile and +supposed death. Christina's flight from her rich, titled lover to the +poor man she preferred added a romantic touch; and the final tragedy of +the disappearance of Robert Campbell's wife and son seemed to the +majority proof positive that the trouble-making element was in the +Campbell family, and rested in the hard, proud, scornful disposition of +the mother, and mother-in-law. There was not a single paper that did not +take a special delight in blaming Mrs. Traquair Campbell, but all, +without exception, praised extravagantly the beauty, the sweet nature, +and the genius of her wronged and terrorized daughter-in-law.</p> + +<p>Robert Campbell took no notice of anything, that either the newspapers +or his mother said. One day Isabel showed him a remark concerning "the +unhappy life of that unfortunate gentleman, the late amiable Traquair +Campbell, Esq." "You ought to stop such shameful allusions, Robert," +she said, "they make mother furious."</p> + +<p>He looked at her with eyes sad and suffering, and answered: "Neither you +nor I, Isabel, can gainsay those words. They describe only too truly our +father's position. He was amiable, and he was unhappy."</p> + +<p>"But, Robert, the insinuation is, that mother was to blame for our +father's unhappiness."</p> + +<p>"She was. Such accusations are best unanswered. If we do not talk life +into them, they will die in a few days."</p> + +<p>To those who did not know Robert Campbell, he seemed at this time +indifferent and unfeeling. In reality he was consumed by the two +passions that had taken possession of him—the finding of his wife and +son, and the making of money to keep up the search for them. He spent +his days at the works, his evenings were devoted to interviewing his +detectives, writing them instructions, or reading their reports. +Shabby-looking men, in various disguises, haunted the hall and library +of Traquair House, and every single one of them gave Mrs. Campbell a +fresh and separate attack of anger. They were naturally against her, +they believed everything wrong said of her, they talked slyly to the +servants, and would scarcely answer her questions; they trespassed on +her rights, and disobeyed her orders; and if she made a complaint of +their behavior to her son, he looked at her indignantly and walked +silently away. Speech, which had been her great weapon, and her great +enjoyment, lost its power against the smouldering anger in her son's +heart, and the speechless insolence of his "spying men."</p> + +<p>Very soon after his sorrow had found him out he locked every drawer and +closet in the rooms that had been Theodora's. It was a necessary action, +but he had a bitter heartache in its performance. The carefully folded +garments, with their faint scent of lavender, held so many memories of +the woman he longed to see. The knots of pale ribbons, the neckwear of +soft lace! Oh, how could such things hurt him so cruelly? In one drawer +of her desk he found the stationery she had begged her own money to buy. +She had not even taken the postage stamps. That circumstance set him +thinking. She was leaving England, or she would have taken the +stamps—perhaps not—they might have been left for the very purpose of +inducing this belief. Who could tell?</p> + +<p>Meantime nothing in the life of Traquair House changed or stopped, +because Robert Campbell's life had been snapped into two parts. Mrs. +Campbell soon recovered her pride and self-confidence. She told all her +callers she "had received measureless sympathy, and as for her enemies, +and what they said, she just washed her hands of them—poor, beggarly +scribblers, and such like."</p> + +<p>Isabel's behavior was a nearer and more constant annoyance. She spent +the most of her time in her own room with maps and guidebooks and +writing, and the pleasure she derived from these sources was a pleasure +inconceivable to her mother. "You are past reckoning with, Isabel," she +said fretfully one day, "what on earth are you busy about?"</p> + +<p>"I am planning routes of travel, mother, putting down every place to +stop at, what hotel to go to, what is worth seeing, and so on. I have +four routes laid out already. I am hoping some day, when I have made all +clear, you will go with me."</p> + +<p>"Me! Me go with you! Not while I have one of my five senses left me."</p> + +<p>"I shall surely go some day. I might have been travelling ere now, but I +disliked to leave you alone, after this trouble about Dora."</p> + +<p>"There is no trouble about Dora, none at all. The running away o' the +creature is a great satisfaction to me. I hate both her and her child."</p> + +<p>"Robert is breaking his heart about them."</p> + +<p>"And neglecting his business, and spending more money than he is making, +looking for them. I might break my heart, too, but thanks be! I have +more sense. Did I tell you the Crawford girls are coming to stay a week +or two? I thought they would be a bit company to you. I suppose they can +have the room next yours."</p> + +<p>"Christina's room! Oh, mother, I wish you would put them somewhere else. +You have a spare room."</p> + +<p>"It is o'er near my own room. And they are apt to come home at night +full o' chat and giggle, and get me wakened up and maybe put by all +sleep for that night. What is wrong with the room next yours?"</p> + +<p>"I don't like any one using Christina's room—and they will keep me +awake."</p> + +<p>"Nobody takes the least thought for my comfort."</p> + +<p>"Why did you ask the Crawfords? You know Robert hates them."</p> + +<p>"Robert is forgetting how to behave decently. He will at least have to +be civil to the Crawfords, and that is a thing he has ceased to be +either to you or me."</p> + +<p>"Robert and I understand each other. He gives me a look, and I give him +one. We do not require to speak."</p> + +<p>"I wonder how I ever came to breed such unfeeling, unsocial children. If +I get 'yes' or 'no' from your brother now, it is the whole of his +conversation; and as for yourself, Isabel, you are at that wearisome +reading or writing the livelong day. I'll need the Crawfords, or some +one, to talk to me, or I'll forget how to speak. Now where will I sleep +them?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose in poor Christina's room."</p> + +<p>"Poor Christina! Yes, indeed! I have no manner o' doubt it is 'poor +Christina' by this time."</p> + +<p>"Mother! mother! do not spae sorrow to your own child. I can't bear it. +I think she is very happy indeed. If she was not, she would have sent me +word. It is poor Isabel, and it is happy Christina."</p> + +<p>"Your way be it."</p> + +<p>The next day the Crawfords came, and were installed in Christina's room. +Mrs. Campbell was in one of her gayest moods, and she said to Isabel: "I +am not going to live in a Trappist monastery, because Robert is too +sulky to open his mouth to me. I'll be glad to hear the girls clacking +and chattering, and whiles laughing a bit. God knows, we need not make +life any gloomier than it is."</p> + +<p>For two or three days, the Crawfords had the run of the house. Robert +went away, "on another wild goose chase" his mother said, just before +they arrived; and his mother's words were evidently true, for he came +home with every sign of disappointment about him. He looked so unhappy, +that Isabel, meeting him in the hall, said: "I am sorry, brother, very +sorry."</p> + +<p>"I know you are," he answered. "It was a false hope—nothing in it."</p> + +<p>"I would stop looking."</p> + +<p>"You are right. I will give it up."</p> + +<p>He went into the dining-room with Isabel, said good-evening to his +mother, and bowed civilly to her guests. The dinner proceeded in a +polite, noiseless manner, until the end of the second course. Then +Robert lifted his eyes, and they fell upon Jean Crawford's hand. The +next moment he had risen and was at her side.</p> + +<p>"Give me the ring upon your right hand," he said in a voice that held as +much passion as a voice could hold and be intelligible.</p> + +<p>"Why, Cousin Robert!"</p> + +<p>"I want that ring!"</p> + +<p>"Aunt Margaret said——"</p> + +<p>"Give me the ring. It is not yours. How dare you wear it?"</p> + +<p>"I was bringing it back! Oh, Aunt Margaret!"</p> + +<p>"Robert, I am ashamed of you!"</p> + +<p>"Mother, I want Theodora's ring—the ring stolen from my wife years ago. +I must have it—I must, I must!"</p> + +<p>"Don't cry, Jean. Give him his ring. I'll give you a far handsomer one."</p> + +<p>Then the woman threw it down on the table, and Robert lifted it and left +the room.</p> + +<p>Isabel sat until the tearful, protesting meal was over, and then she did +the most remarkable thing—she went to her brother. He was sitting +looking at the ring, recalling its history. He remembered going into +Kendal one Saturday night, just after its receipt, and memory showed him +again Theodora's delight and excitement, her wonder over its beauty, and +her pride in her pupils' affection. He could see her lovely face, her +shining eyes, he could feel her soft kiss, and the caress of her hand in +his. Oh, what a miracle of love and beauty she was to him that night! He +told Isabel all about it, and then he spoke of its theft, and of his +frequent promises and failures to recover it for her.</p> + +<p>"But, brother," said Isabel, "you have now quite unexpectedly got it +back. It is a good omen. Some day, when you are not looking for such a +thing, you will get its owner back, you will put it on her finger. I +feel sure of it."</p> + +<p>"I was a brute, Isabel."</p> + +<p>"You were a coward. You were afraid of mother."</p> + +<p>"No man ever had so many opportunities for happiness as Theodora offered +me. I scorned them all. Why was I so blind, so unjust, so cruel? I am +miserable, and deserve to be miserable. We can go to hell before we die, +Isabel."</p> + +<p>"Yes, we can, but we send ourselves there. 'If I make my bed in hell,' +said the great seer and singer. It is always <i>I</i> that makes that bed, +never God, never any other human being." And it was Robert Campbell, he +himself, and no other, who had made his bed in that forlorn circle of +hell, where men who have lost their Great Opportunity, weep and wail +over their forfeited happiness. Poor Isabel, she remembered, and longed +to remind her brother, that even there God was with him, waiting to be +gracious, ready to help! But she was too cowardly, she did not like to +give religious advice; she was only a woman—he would wonder at her. So +she went away, and did not deliver the gracious message, and felt poor +and mean because of her fear and her faithlessness.</p> + +<p>This conversation, however, made a decided change in Robert Campbell's +life. It had always been believed by the family, that Isabel, unknown to +herself, had a certain occult, prophesying power; frequently she had +proved that with her insight was foresight. So, though Robert said +nothing to her when she told him the getting back of the ring was a good +omen, he believed her and derived a singular peace and confidence from +the prediction. At that very hour, he virtually put a stop to all +inquiries, and to all search; he resolved to leave to those behind him +the bringing back of his wife, and their reconciliation.</p> + +<p>Carrying out this resolve compelled him to take account of the money he +had spent in the quest for Theodora and his son, and the total gave him +a shock. It had been an absolutely fruitless waste of money, and he had +a fiery impetuous determination to restore to his estate the full +amount. To this object he devoted himself, and if a man is willing to +lose his heart and soul in money-making, he is sure to succeed.</p> + +<p>So the weeks and the months passed, and he turned himself, body and +soul, into gold and tried to forget. The loss of his wife and child +became a something that had happened long ago—an event sorrowful, and +far off. For there was nothing to keep their memory alive. No one +mentioned their names, and the very rooms they had inhabited, had lost +all remembrance of them. They were simply empty rooms now, for every +particle of the lovely and loving lives that had once informed them, had +been withdrawn.</p> + +<p>Nearly two years had passed since Christina married, nearly as long +since Theodora and David disappeared, and the big, silent Traquair House +was a desolate place. Mrs. Campbell had no one but her servants to +dispute with, for though Isabel's seclusion was constantly more marked, +Robert would not listen to a word against his sister. She had been sorry +for him, and forespoken good for him; he stood staunchly by all she did.</p> + +<p>"Do you know that she is going away this spring, into all sorts of wild +and savage countries, and among pagans and papists, and worse—if there +is worse; with nothing but a woman nearly as old as myself to lean on. I +wonder at your allowing such nonsense."</p> + +<p>"Isabel knows what she is doing. She is going with Lady Mary Grafton. +They will have their maids, and a first-class courier. I think she is +doing right."</p> + +<p>"And I shall be left here, all alone?"</p> + +<p>"Do you count me a nonentity?"</p> + +<p>"You are very near it, as far as I am concerned."</p> + +<p>"I am alone, too. Will you remember that? You know whose fault it is." +Then he rose and left her, and Mrs. Campbell was conscious of a secret +wish that the good old quarrelsome days would come back, even though it +were Theodora and David who brought them.</p> + +<p>A few days after this conversation Robert had business in the city, and +after it was finished, he walked leisurely down Buchanan Street. It was +a fine spring morning, and there was a glint of sunshine tempering the +fresh west breeze. Passing McLaren's, he saw a lady get out of a cab, +and go into the shop. He followed her, and gently laid his hand on her +shoulder, saying:</p> + +<p>"Christina, sister!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Robert, Robert!" and she laughed, and cried, and clasped his hands.</p> + +<p>"Come with me to my club," he said, "and we will have lunch and a good +talk. You must have a deal to tell me."</p> + +<p>"I have, I have! My cab is at the door. Will it do for you? You used to +hate cabs." She laughed again and her laugh went to his heart, so he +petted her hand, and said she was looking white and thin, and what was +the matter?</p> + +<p>"I had a little daughter only six weeks ago, the sweetest darling you +ever saw, Robert. And I have a beautiful wee laddie, called +Robert—called after you—he is nearly a year old."</p> + +<p>"Then I must go with you and see my namesake."</p> + +<p>"Do you really mean that?"</p> + +<p>"I intend to give you this afternoon."</p> + +<p>"I am so glad—so happy."</p> + +<p>Then they were at the Club House, and Robert took her to a pleasant +parlor and ordered a royal lunch, and a bottle of wine.</p> + +<p>"We must drink the little chap's health," he said. "And now tell me, +Christina, are you happy?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am happy. I have some little anxieties about Jamie, but love +makes all easy—and Jamie loves me and the children, and does his best +for us. A man cannot do more than that, can he?"</p> + +<p>"Have you ever regretted your treatment of Sir Thomas Wynton?"</p> + +<p>"Never once! Wynton treated me handsomely, but you see, <i>I loved Jamie</i>. +You understand, Robert?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"I heard about Theodora, of course. It was hard on you, but I do not +blame Theodora. Since I was a mother, I have wondered she bore David's +treatment as long as she did. I would not."</p> + +<p>When lunch was over, they drove to Christina's home, and Robert laughed +at its location. "Why, you are barely a mile from Traquair House," he +said. "How was it we never found you out?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps you did not care about finding me out."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps. Yet I know Isabel never went out without looking for you, and +she has put many advertisements in the papers."</p> + +<p>"Well, I was neither lost nor stolen, Robert, so I never read +advertisements." She laughed in her old mocking way. "But I longed for +Isabel, and have hard work to keep away from her."</p> + +<p>There was just time for Robert to see his namesake, and give him a gold +token, and admire the baby in its mother's arms, and the mother with the +baby in her arms, when there was the sound of a latch-key in the door, +and then a gay whistle. "Here comes Jamie," cried Christina, all her +face aglow with love and expectation. Jamie was a personality you felt +as soon as he entered the house. Robert looked anxiously for his +appearance; but he was not prepared for the young man who entered. He +was so handsome. Not Robert Burns himself had a more winning face, or +more charming manners. He came into the room laughing, and when he saw +Robert, went straight to him with outstretched hand. "Glad to see you, +Campbell," he said heartily, and Robert felt he was glad. "You will take +dinner with us?" he asked, and Robert said he would. Then he brought +cigars, and began to discuss with Robert a subject which was at that +time very interesting to the city. Robert found him clever and amusing, +and he had a way of illustrating all his points with stories so apt, and +so amusing, you felt sure he invented them as needed.</p> + +<p>They had a modest, cheerful dinner, after which Jamie played the fiddle +and sang as Robert had never dreamed it was possible to fiddle and sing; +and he fell completely under the man's charm. For he made fiddle strings +of Robert's heart strings, with his wild Gathering Calls, his National +Songs, and Strathspeys. It was impossible not to love the man, and +whatever liking and admiration Robert Campbell had to give, he gave +unresistingly that night to James Rathey. He went away reluctantly, +though he had stayed some time after dinner, and when he clasped the +beautiful hand of the violinist he held it a moment, and said: "You have +made me happy for a few hours. I thank you! I shall not forget."</p> + +<p>All the way home he was revolving a plan in his mind, which he was +resolved to bring to perfection. With this object in view, he looked +into the dining-room when he reached home, hoping to find Isabel there. +But Mrs. Campbell was sitting alone with a newspaper in her hand. She +looked bored and forsaken, and he was sorry for her. "Where is Isabel?" +he asked.</p> + +<p>"Where she always is, except at eating-times—in her room."</p> + +<p>"I want to see her."</p> + +<p>"Will not your mother do?"</p> + +<p>"Not just yet. I may want you in a short time."</p> + +<p>"And then I may not come. You are going to ask Isabel, whether it is +prudent to tell me something, or not."</p> + +<p>"Will you let Isabel know, or shall I send McNab?"</p> + +<p>"I will tell her myself."</p> + +<p>Then Robert went to his own parlor, and in a few minutes Isabel came to +him. He took her hand, and seated her at his side. "Isabel," he said, "I +have found Christina. I have had lunch and dinner with her. I have met +James Rathey."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Robert!"</p> + +<p>"He is the most delightful of men. They are as happy as they can be."</p> + +<p>Then Isabel began to cry softly. "Oh, Robert, Robert! Such good news! +Tell me all about them!" she exclaimed. And Robert told her all that +Christina had said, and all that Jamie had said. He described +Christina's and Rathey's appearance, he told her about the babies, he +even made a few remarks about the floor and the furniture.</p> + +<p>"I must go and see her the first thing in the morning, Robert."</p> + +<p>"How soon will you start on your travels, Isabel?"</p> + +<p>"In ten days, if Lady Mary is better."</p> + +<p>"Is she sick?"</p> + +<p>"I heard this morning she had an attack of measles—very peculiar in a +woman of her age."</p> + +<p>"I don't know, I'm sure. What I want is, that Christina should +come into my rooms. I am going to give her all the furniture in +them—everything-everything except some clothing. While you are away, +she will be company for mother, who seems pitifully lonely."</p> + +<p>"That is mother's fault, Robert. These empty rooms ought to be——"</p> + +<p>"I know. There is no use speaking of it. All that hope is over. Do you +think you can persuade Christina to come home?"</p> + +<p>"She would have some submissions to make to mother—will she make them?"</p> + +<p>"I think so. Go and ask her."</p> + +<p>"I will see her in the morning."</p> + +<p>In the morning there was a joyful meeting between the sisters, and +Christina was delighted with Robert's plan. She had often longed for the +large rooms, the wide stairways and corridors of Traquair House. She +hated small rooms, and common stairs, and cabs, and remembered longingly +the days when the Campbell carriage was at her beck and call. She liked +plenty of servants, and her own maid and nurse would be added to the +staff in Traquair House. She would be relieved of all housekeeping +cares, and of the oversight of the table, a duty she particularly +disliked. Besides these considerations, she could again take her proper +place in society. Robert would be certain to do something for Jamie, and +then she would have her income for dress and social demands.</p> + +<p>"It will be delightful, Isabel," she said. "Just what I wish, and Jamie +will win round mother directly—he has that way with all women."</p> + +<p>"Then come home about five this afternoon, and bring the babies with +you, especially Margaret."</p> + +<p>"Isabel, you mean?"</p> + +<p>"No, no! You must call her Margaret. As Margaret she will open mother's +heart to you."</p> + +<p>About five that afternoon, Mrs. Campbell came into the big, empty +dining-room. She was dressed for dinner, but there were no signs of the +meal. She looked cross and forlorn, and began to grumble to herself, as +she impatiently stirred the fire into a blaze. "It is too bad of +Isabel," she muttered; "she cares for nothing but her own way. I am left +to look after everything—house, callers, what not—and there is a ring +at the door now! I hope Jepson heard it."</p> + +<p>The next moment the room door was thrown open, and Christina, in a +flurry of beautiful silk and fur, fell on her knees by her mother's +side. She clasped her mother's hands in her own, and said softly: +"Forgive Christina, mother. I have brought my little Margaret for your +blessing. Oh, yes, you will bless her. And Christina is really sorry, +and longs so much for her mother and her home—dear mother, forgive me?"</p> + +<p>At the beginning of her entreaty, Mrs. Campbell had tried to take her +hands from between her daughter's, but at the close they lay passive +until she raised one, stroked Christina's face, and bid her rise. Then +Christina took the little child, and laid it in its grandmother's arms, +saying:</p> + +<p>"Little Margaret asks you to forgive and love us, mother,"—and little +Margaret won the day.</p> + +<p>"May I stay dinner, mother, and talk to you?"</p> + +<p>"Go up to your own room, and take off your hat and wrapping. You may +leave the bairns with me. Yon is a bonnie wee lad, what is his name?"</p> + +<p>"Robert Traquair."</p> + +<p>"A wise like name! Bring him here, lassie—and what is your name?"</p> + +<p>"Janet, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"Weel, Janet, you may now take the boy-bairn to the kitchen, and show +him to Mistress McNab, and tell her she will hae company to provide for. +I'll keep the bit lassie mysel', till her mother is ready for her."</p> + +<p>At six o'clock, as arranged, Robert came home and joined his mother and +sisters, and they were all talking happily together, when Jamie Rathey +entered. Robert met him with a hearty welcome, and Jepson coming in at +that moment, to superintend the setting of the table, was told by Robert +to lay service for two extra. And as Christina predicted, when the +evening was over Jamie had fairly conquered the usually impossible Mrs. +Campbell. He had waited on his mother-in-law as if he was her lover, he +had told pleasant stories, and sang merry songs, and above all assured +her, she was "the only mother he knew, who could bring up daughters able +to make the state of marriage an earthly Paradise"; and with a charming +smile he wished "that she had fifty daughters, so that Glasgow might +boast of fifty perfect wives, and happy husbands."</p> + +<p>Robert watched him, and listened to him, and wondered that a man of his +tact and social genius, did not get on in the world; and after the +Ratheys and their children had departed he said: "Christina has not done +as badly as we believed, mother. What do you think of James?"</p> + +<p>"The man is well enough—as a man," she answered with a sudden cooling +of heart temperature, "but what about his capacities? Is he a good +provider? Can he get hold of the wherewithal for a family's +necessities?"</p> + +<p>"He is on the Roll of Attorneys now, but it is hard for a young man to +get a law business—it takes time. He is sure to make his mark, but I do +not suppose he makes his office rent yet."</p> + +<p>"I thought so."</p> + +<p>"He is clever."</p> + +<p>"Very. And if he is as clever with his fiddle as his tongue, I would be +astonished if he made office rent."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"Because God has given to some men wisdom and understanding, and to +other men He has given the art o' playing on the fiddle. But if a man is +wanting law, he does not want a song, and he is naturally suspicious of +the lawyer who mixes the two."</p> + +<p>"I shall get him installed as attorney on some of the civic boards, and +that will give him an opportunity to show himself as a lawyer. And, +mother, I have given Christina the use of my rooms, and the furniture is +hers now. I have given her it just as it stands—everything, except some +clothing. When Isabel goes away, I thought you would be very lonely, and +Christina and the babies will make things more cheerful for you."</p> + +<p>"I might have been asked, if it would be agreeable?"</p> + +<p>"I only met Christina yesterday. I went home with her, and I want her to +have a better home—her old home, and you to look after her."</p> + +<p>"Well, a mother's duty never ends, and I was never one to shirk duty. +The rooms are all right—but as for the cooking and the kitchen——"</p> + +<p>"<i>Tut, tut</i>, mother! You will look after the table as you have always +done."</p> + +<p>"There will be four more adults to provide for, not to speak o' the +bairns' feeding and washing."</p> + +<p>"James is able to pay whatever you think right. I will insure that to +you. And, mother, it will be a joy to see you busy about the house +again, ordering the meals, and keeping the servant girls up to mark."</p> + +<p>"I always was a busy woman, Robert, and I will be thankful to have my +hands full again. I am sure the thought o' Christina's playing and +singing, and her goings out and in, and the visitors she will have, and +the news coming with them, and the children, special the bit lassie wi' +her soft black een, and her wonderfu' resemblance to mysel'—all these +things, sure enough, will make the old house a deal more pleasant. But +where will you keep yourself?"</p> + +<p>"At my club. I have a room there anyway, and I shall always take my +breakfast in it. Sometimes, I will come here for dinner, but Jamie will +be the man of the house, and a better master than I have ever been—he +will have more time to help you, mother."</p> + +<p>These conditions, carefully considered and elaborated, were carried out +with all the haste possible. But haste is not in a Scotchwoman's +faculty. She can do many things well, but she must carefully prepare for +their doing, and then move with care and caution.</p> + +<p>A few days after this arrangement, Mrs. Campbell and Christina went out +together to do some shopping found necessary for it. Isabel remained at +home to answer a letter from the Grafton family. This letter gave her +great anxiety; it said: "Lady Mary's illness had become more serious +than was at first anticipated, and there was almost a certainty that she +would not be able to travel at the time fixed; consequently, they would +leave to Miss Campbell the option of changing the date, or of +cancelling the engagement, as seemed best for her own pleasure and +interest."</p> + +<p>Poor Isabel was much troubled at this disappointment. She feared all was +going wrong with her plans, and the thought of the coming invasion with +the noise of the children, and the joyous hilarity of Christina and her +husband, and her mother's renewed importance, was not, in her present +mood of disappointment and uncertainty, a pleasant anticipation. She sat +silent and motionless, her eyes fixed on the neatly folded routes she +had prepared. And her heart sank low, and a few tears gathered slowly +and remained unshed. "All my desires are doomed," she thought +sorrowfully. "Nothing I plan comes to pass. How unfortunate I am!"</p> + +<p>Then there was a tap at her door, and a maid told her there was a +visitor. She rose despondingly, took the card, threw it on the table, +and went slowly to the drawing-room. Before she had quite opened the +door, she heard hurrying steps coming to meet her, and the next moment +Sir Thomas Wynton was holding her hands, and trying to tell her how +happy he was to see her again.</p> + +<p>She had an instantaneous sense of hope and relief, and they were soon +heart and soul in the conversation they both enjoyed. Very soon she went +for the routes she had prepared, and showed them to the baronet, who was +amazed and delighted:</p> + +<p>"I never saw anything so beautifully and carefully done," he exclaimed, +"and when do you start on Route No. 1.? I see it takes in Russia, +Sweden, and Norway, and home by the Netherlands and Orkneys. Why, I +never thought of that! How good, how excellent an idea."</p> + +<p>"I intended leaving Glasgow in nine days, but Lady Mary Grafton, whose +party I was to join, is ill with measles."</p> + +<p>"Good gracious! Measles! I never heard of such a thing, what is the +woman up to? She is not a baby or a schoolgirl, is she?"</p> + +<p>"She is forty-four years old."</p> + +<p>"Oh! And measles? How absurd! What will you do?"</p> + +<p>"I was trying to decide, when you came. Can you help me? If you can, I +shall be grateful. If I can find no one to go with me, I shall go +alone."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, impossible! May I call early to-morrow morning?"</p> + +<p>"Ten o'clock if you wish."</p> + +<p>Then he thanked her for the sensible, interesting letters she had +written him. They were "a kind of little newspaper," he said, "and I +counted those days happy and fortunate on which I received one. I have +brought you some laces. I noticed that you always wore pretty lace, and +so whenever I was at a place where lace was made, I got a little for +you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Sir Thomas!"</p> + +<p>"And to-morrow morning, I hope I will be able to tell you something +about a companion for your journey. Do you know Mrs. Foster?"</p> + +<p>"No. I have heard of her only."</p> + +<p>He seemed on the point of going, but did not go until Mrs. Campbell +came home. Then he stayed to lunch, and sat chatting with the two ladies +until three o'clock. Even then he seemed reluctant to go away.</p> + +<p>"Why should he come here at ten o'clock in the morning?" asked Mrs. +Campbell, when Sir Thomas had finally gone away.</p> + +<p>"Lady Mary is too ill to travel. Sir Thomas thinks he can get me a +proper companion. If not, mother, I shall go alone. I will not let +anything disappoint me again."</p> + +<p>"You will be talked of from Dan to Beersheba."</p> + +<p>"I shall be doing nothing wrong, and I shall be happy. Let them talk."</p> + +<p>In the morning Sir Thomas was in the drawing-room at ten o'clock, and +Isabel, in a pretty lavender lawn gown, went with a smile to meet him. +He looked at her with delight, and said: "I have found you a +companion—one that will take the greatest care of you. It is myself. I +will trust you with no one else."</p> + +<p>"But, Sir Thomas," and she attempted to draw her hand out of his.</p> + +<p>"No, no," he said, clasping it still tighter. "Sit here by my side, and +listen to what I say. I love you dearly, wisely, with all my heart. I +will make you Lady Wynton to-morrow, if you desire it, and you and +I—you and I—will take all those excellently planned journeys together. +We will travel slowly and comfortably, luxuriously when we can; we will +see everything worth seeing. We will take a long, long honeymoon trip, +all over the world. Say 'yes,' Isabel. May I call you Isabel?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"My Isabel."</p> + +<p>"I am your sincere friend."</p> + +<p>"My wife! I want you for my wife."</p> + +<p>"A wedding means a great deal of trouble. It would keep me back."</p> + +<p>"Not an hour. We will meet in Dr. Robertson's parlor, each with a friend +or two. My carriage will be at his door, and as soon as the ceremony is +over, we will drive to the railway station, and take a train for London, +be in London for dinner, and ready next day to start Tour No. 1, first +landing-place St. Petersburg; eh, dear? Say yes, say yes, Isabel. <i>Do!</i>"</p> + +<p>And how could Isabel say anything but "yes"? It was the dream of her +life coming true.</p> + +<p>"This is Wednesday," he continued joyfully, "what do you say to next +Monday? Can you be ready for Monday?"</p> + +<p>"I can be ready by Monday, Sir Thomas."</p> + +<p>"We will drop the 'Sir,' my dear, forever. Now, I will go and arrange +with Dr. Robertson for the ceremony at nine o'clock, Monday morning, and +in the meantime, see your brother about the necessary business matters, +and put all right at Wynton village for at least a year's stay. For +after London, we will follow the route you laid out—nothing could be +better."</p> + +<p>And as this was one of those destined marriages, that may be delayed +but cannot be prevented, every particular relating to it went as +desired. Isabel in a pretty travelling suit, with her mother and +brother, was at Dr. Robertson's at nine o'clock on the set Monday +morning, and found Sir Thomas Wynton and his brother-in-law and sister, +Lord and Lady Morpeth, waiting for them. It was a momentous interval for +two of the party, but soon passed; for in twenty minutes, Isabel +received the congratulations due to her as Lady Wynton, and then amid +smiles and good wishes she began with her husband their long wedding +trip, of all over the world.</p> + +<p>"It is the last of my Isabel," said Mrs. Campbell between smiles and +tears.</p> + +<p>"No," answered Robert, "it is the beginning of Isabel. When she comes +back we shall hardly know her. It is a real marriage; they will improve +each other," and he turned away with a sigh.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Campbell had really no occasion for tears. She was not inclined to +weep, even when weeping would have been in order, and Isabel had not +lately been notable, either as a help or a comfort, so that her mother +felt it no trial to exchange her presence, for the pleasure of talking +of her dear daughter, Lady Wynton, her journeyings and her experiences. +There was also the returning home of Christina, the rearranging of +Robert's rooms for her and her family, their moving into them and +settlement, and these things engaged her warmest interest. She felt +indeed that as regarded Robert's rooms falling to Christina's lot, she +owed Providence a handsome acknowledgment. They had been prepared at an +extravagant cost for an Englishwoman and a stranger, but had come, as it +were, naturally, to her own daughter. But then she said: "Providence had +always looked after the Campbells, and it was not likely that in this +flagrant case Providence would forget its duty."</p> + +<p>She was busy from morning to night until she had the new family under +the same roof with her, and Robert also appeared to take a great +interest in the change. He was very generous to his sister, and gave her +freely all the beautiful furniture and ornaments he had bought for +Theodora, even the piano would know her touch no more. All the books, +music, and pretty ornaments and embroideries she had accumulated during +her miserable six years of married life, she left behind her; and all +were given to Christina. Christina had no reluctance in appropriating +them. She began her new tenure in Traquair House by taking everything +she could get, likely to add to her comfort or pleasure.</p> + +<p>Robert was a great deal about the house while the change was in +progress, afterward his visits decreased, until they settled into the +Sunday dinner with his family. No one complained of his absence. +Christina and Rathey introduced a new life—a life of constant visiting, +gaiety, and entertaining; and Mrs. Campbell accepted it without dissent. +Jamie Rathey indeed ruled her more absolutely than he ruled his wife. +And she petted him, as she had never petted her own sons—ordered +luxuries for his eating, gave him presents, paid his bills, and excused +all his extravagances.</p> + +<p>"Between Jamie and little Margaret, I am not my own woman at all," she +admitted, and as time went on, it was difficult to say which of these +two treated her with the most tyrannical affection.</p> + +<p>Two erroneous conclusions are likely to be formed concerning Robert +Campbell on this unlooked for transformation of life in Traquair +House—one, that he had suddenly developed a most unusual generosity, +and the other, that he had forgotten his wife, and become resigned to +her loss. Neither of these conclusions would be correct. Few, indeed, of +our actions ring true through all their depths, and Robert's generosity +to his sister arose from a desire to make his own life more bearable. +Those lonely, lifeless, deserted rooms, over which he had spent so much +love and gold filled him with a terror he hated to face. If Christina +would bring into them life and song, and the voices of children, perhaps +their haunting misery might die out of his heart. He could not prevent +Isabel leaving home, but he did dread the house with no one but his +mother and himself in it. So when Christina stepped into both dilemmas, +with a comfortable solution, he felt grateful to her, and it was +pleasant to give her things, and pleasant to help Jamie Rathey, and to +see the dark, silent house alive with mirth and company, and the prattle +of little children.</p> + +<p>But there was another Robert that none of these things touched, who in +fact would neither see them, nor listen to them. This Robert sat hours +motionless and speechless, dreaming of the woman he still loved—longing +for her with heart-breaking accusations and remorse. <i>Oh, to hear from +her! Oh, to see her</i>, if but for a moment! Would the hour for their +reconciliation never, never come? This was the faithful, bitter cry of +his best nature, as raking in the ashes of memory, he made of his lost +wife a thousand lovely and sorrowful pictures. And this Robert Campbell, +no one but Robert's angels, and Robert's God knew.</p> + +<p>To the world in general he seemed to be harder than ever, indifferent to +all interests but money-making, stripped even of his old time gloss and +politeness, yielding only when necessary to get his own way. His +kindness to Christina had been in the main kindness to himself, and the +ready help given to Jamie Rathey was the result of several selfish +reasons, united with that singular liking which men occasionally feel +for some other man gifted as they never can be—an affection doubtless +dating from some life anterior to this life. With these exceptions, +Robert Campbell was the old Robert Campbell, a little older, and a +little rougher, and the national emblem of the repellent <i>Thistle</i>, with +its churlish command, "<i>Hands off!</i>" represented him very fairly.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<h3>ROBERT CAMPBELL GOES WOOING</h3> + + +<p>It will not now be difficult for any one to construct in their +imagination the life in Traquair House for the next two years. But at +the end of that time, a great change was approaching, and the bringer of +it was Isabel, Lady Wynton. She was sitting at her husband's side one +afternoon, in the office or foyer of a large hotel in San Francisco. Sir +Thomas was smoking and watching with her the constant kaleidoscope of +humanity passing in and out. They were not talking, but there was a +thorough, though silent sympathy between them. Sometimes Sir Thomas +looked at her with an admiring glance, which she answered with a smile, +or a move of her chair closer to him; but her attitude was that of a +woman silently interested and satisfied. It was the old Isabel in a +repose, informed, vigilant, and conscious of a perfect communion of +feeling.</p> + +<p>Suddenly her whole appearance changed. She became eager and watchful, +and her personality appeared to be on the tiptoe of expectation. With +her eyes she followed every movement of a beautiful young woman attended +by a scholarly-looking man, nearing sixty years of age. The couple were +quickly joined by a much younger man, they walked with him to the main +entrance, stood talking a few minutes, and then bid him farewell. The +woman and older man then turned back into the hotel, and Lady Wynton had +a full leisurely look at them. She did not recognize the man at all, but +she was perfectly satisfied as to the identity of the woman, and she +stepped hastily forward, crying softly:</p> + +<p>"Theodora, Theodora! I know it is you. I have found you at last. Oh, how +glad I am, how glad I am!"</p> + +<p>"Isabel!"</p> + +<p>"And here is my husband, Dora."</p> + +<p>"I need no introduction, Mrs. Campbell," said Sir Thomas, with smiling +courtesy. "I remember you perfectly, though you have been growing +younger, instead of older."</p> + +<p>Theodora quickly introduced her father, leaving him with Sir Thomas +while she and Lady Wynton went to the Wyntons' parlor for conversation. +"I must write Robert at once," said Lady Wynton. "It will be such a +wonderful thing to him, for I am sure he has given up all hope of ever +seeing you again, Dora. Two years ago he left Traquair House; he could +not endure his empty lonely rooms any longer."</p> + +<p>"Poor, dark, sad rooms! I try to forget them also."</p> + +<p>"They are not dark and empty now, Christina and her husband and babies +are living in them, and they make them lively enough, I have no doubt."</p> + +<p>A shadow passed over Theodora's face, and she did not speak for a few +moments. Then she asked: "What was done with the furniture and the +things I used to believe were mine?"</p> + +<p>"Christina wrote me that Robert had given everything in the rooms to +her."</p> + +<p>"How kind of him!" There was a little scorn in her voice, and she asked, +"What about my piano, and my music?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Theodora, you must not feel hurt. Poor Robert! He was nearly +broken-hearted. He never expected to see you. He had spent a fortune on +detectives, who looked all over Europe for you. One night I sat with +him, and I really thought he was insane. He acted like it."</p> + +<p>"But he gave my piano and music away."</p> + +<p>"I suppose he could not bear to see them—and you had left them, you +know."</p> + +<p>"Isabel, he gave me that piano as a birthday gift, one week before we +were married; but then, of course, he took it back after the ceremony. +He told me once my wedding ring was his property, and that he could sell +the very hair off my head if he chose to do so."</p> + +<p>"He must have been in a vile temper to say such things. Legally, I +suppose he was right, but no good man ever does such things."</p> + +<p>"But if a woman has the ill-fortune to marry a bad man? and many women +innocently do this, then——"</p> + +<p>"Then what?"</p> + +<p>"If she has any self-respect, she emancipates herself from such a +condition of slavery."</p> + +<p>"Are you still angry at Robert?"</p> + +<p>"I never was angry at him. He was only the rock on which my love bark +struck, and went down."</p> + +<p>"How is David?"</p> + +<p>"Come home with me, and see him. We shall be home for supper, and it is +about time we were leaving."</p> + +<p>"Both Sir Thomas and I will come with you gladly."</p> + +<p>For nearly ten miles their road lay through a delightful country, and +just at the darkening ended in a plateau among some foothills. A number +of white houses were scattered over it, and towards one of these +Theodora drove her carriage. They entered an inclosure studded with +forest trees, and kept in fine order; and as they neared the dwelling, +came into a lovely garden full of all kinds of flowers and fruits. The +house was square and large, surrounded by deep piazzas, and covered to +the chimney-tops with flowering vines, chiefly with jasmine and passion +flowers. On either side of the wide hall there were cool, large parlors, +and from its centre rose the white stairway leading to the upper +rooms—and everywhere there was an indefinable sense of peace and +comfort.</p> + +<p>"What a beautiful home! What a heavenly place!" cried Isabel, and +Theodora answered:</p> + +<p>"My father bought it when we first came. We have lived here ever since. +It is beautiful. The sun shines on it, the winds blow through it, in +every room there is happiness and peace. You were asking about David," +she said in a tone of exultation, "here he comes!" and they went to the +window and watched his approach. He was riding a fine, spirited horse, +and riding like Jehu the son of Nimshi, who doubtless rode—as well as +drove—furiously.</p> + +<p>"How wonderfully he rides, Dora."</p> + +<p>"David can do anything with a horse, or a rifle, and he is so strong, +and tall, you would think him much older than he is. Come, we will go +down and have supper, and let unpleasant memories die."</p> + +<p>For two weeks the Wyntons stayed with Mr. Newton—two weeks of perfect +delight to them. They visited various lovely towns along the coast, they +hunted, and fished, and talked, the women of household things, and +family affairs—the two men of their college days, and sports, and +poetry; Sir Thomas quoting the Greek poets, and Mr. Newton the English, +old and new. In the evenings, Theodora played and sang, and David +recited stirring lines from "The Lady of the Lake" and other works. +Night and day followed each other so happily and so quickly, that the +week promised became two weeks, without notice or protest.</p> + +<p>No letter during this time had been sent to Robert. Theodora insisted on +this point. "I do not like letters, Isabel," she said. "They say too +much, or too little. When you see Robert, tell him what your eyes have +seen, and your ears heard—just the plain truth—and leave him to act on +it, as he wishes."</p> + +<p>"Then remember, Dora, that we are not intending to hurry home. We shall +remain a few days at Salt Lake City, Denver, St. Louis, Chicago, and of +course visit Niagara. It may be a month before we reach New York. You +must give us five or six weeks before we reach Liverpool, and so do not +lay the blame of our loitering to Robert's indifference. Be patient."</p> + +<p>"I have been four years without a word. You see that I am neither +impatient nor unhappy."</p> + +<p>"Tell me, Dora, who was that dark, handsome man you seemed so much at +home with in the hotel? I am curious about him. He appeared to be so +familiar with your father and yourself."</p> + +<p>"He is a neighbor. His house is about two miles from ours. The two +eldest girls you saw reading and singing with me are his daughters. I am +educating them with the three younger girls, who are the only children +of a neighbor in another direction."</p> + +<p>"He seemed very fond of you—I mean the man at the hotel."</p> + +<p>"He is a good friend. He spends much time with my father. When he bid us +good-bye, he was going to his mining property. That is the reason you +have not seen him. Had he been at home, he would have made your visit +here much pleasanter."</p> + +<p>"Then I think we should never have got away. What a book full I shall +have to tell Robert? I wish I was home. It will be good to see the light +come into his sad face, when I say, 'Robert, I have found Theodora!'"</p> + +<p>"Say nothing to influence him, one way or the other. His own heart must +urge him to seek me, or he will never find me. It is a long journey to +take, for a disappointment."</p> + +<p>"He will doubtless write to you at once."</p> + +<p>"I should take no notice of a letter."</p> + +<p>"Why?"</p> + +<p>"I have learned that a woman who lets slip the slightest respect which +is due her, invites, and perhaps deserves the contempt she gets."</p> + +<p>"Sir Thomas is very respectful to me, Dora."</p> + +<p>"And very kind and loving. And you must know that you are much handsomer +than you were before your marriage. You converse better, your manner is +dignified yet gracious, your dress is rich, and in fine taste, and the +touch of gray in your abundant black hair is exceedingly becoming to +you. You are a fortunate woman."</p> + +<p>"But, Dora, remember how long I waited for good fortune. I am in real +living only two years old; all the years before my marriage were blank +and dreary. I am forty years of age according to my birth date, and I +have lived two, out of the forty."</p> + +<p>"Thank God for the two years!"</p> + +<p>"I do. We both do. Sir Thomas is very religious."</p> + +<p>At length the Wyntons departed, and when Theodora had made her last +adieu, and watched their carriage out of sight, she turned to her +mother, who stood pale and depressed at her side.</p> + +<p>"I am glad the visit is over. It has been something of a trial to you, +mother—and to me also."</p> + +<p>"The last week I was a little weary. But father and David enjoyed it, so +it does not matter."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it does matter. The men in a house should not be made happy at the +cost of the women's exhaustion."</p> + +<p>"How soon do you expect your husband?"</p> + +<p>"Not for eight weeks—it may be longer, and it may be never."</p> + +<p>"Do you love him at all now?"</p> + +<p>"I love the Robert who wooed and married me, as much as ever I did; the +Robert of the last five or six years, I do not wish to see again. I have +been away from him four years, and I cannot hope that his manner of life +has improved him."</p> + +<p>"How has he lived?"</p> + +<p>"From what Isabel told me, I should say his family had full dominion +over him for two years; the result being the tearing to pieces of the +home he made for me, and the handing over to his sister everything that +was mine. The last two years he has lived a solitary life at his club, +no doubt self-indulgent, self-centred, and self-sufficient."</p> + +<p>"Theodora, no one but God knows anything about Robert. He would show +himself to no one—I mean his real self. Do not judge him on the partial +evidence of his sister. She would look no further than his words and +actions."</p> + +<p>"I wish I had heard nothing about him. I thought he was out of my life +forever."</p> + +<p>"Do not let the matter disturb you, until you are compelled to. <i>Grace +for the need</i> is sure. Nowhere have I seen, <i>grace before the need</i> +promised."</p> + +<p>"You are right, mother, we will go on with our lives just as if this +visit had never happened. I will neither hope nor doubt. I will do my +day's work, and leave all with God."</p> + +<p>So the Newton House went back to its calm routine, and Theodora taught +and wrote, and helped her mother with her housekeeping, and her father +with copying his manuscripts, and her boy with his lessons, and the days +passed into weeks, and the weeks into months, and the promise of +Robert's coming became as a dream when one awakeneth.</p> + +<p>Yet all was proceeding surely, if leisurely, to the appointed end. In +about eight weeks, the Wyntons arrived in London, and following their +usual habit delayed and delayed there, for a whole week before starting +for Scotland. But once at Wynton Castle, Isabel felt freed from her +promise of silence, and she wrote to Robert a few days after her return +home, the following note:</p> + +<blockquote><p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Robert</span>:—We reached home four days ago, and found +everything in perfect order. I hope mother and Christina and +you yourself are well. I am in fine health, never was better. +When we were in California I came unexpectedly upon Theodora. +We stayed two weeks with her, very pleasant weeks, and if you +will come to Wynton as soon as convenient, we shall be glad to +see you and tell you all about your wife and child. You need +have no anxiety about them. They could not be happier. Give my +love and duty to mother, and tell Christina I have a few pretty +things for her.</p> + +<p>"Your loving sister,</p> + +<p>"<span class="smcap">Isabel</span>."</p></blockquote> + +<p>Robert found this letter beside his dinner plate, and after he had taken +his soup he deliberately opened it. He knew it was Isabel's writing, and +the post-marks showed him she was at home again. He knew also that it +would contain an invitation to Wynton, and before he was sure of it, he +made a vow to himself that he would not go.</p> + +<p>"Sir Thomas will prose about the persons and places he has seen, and +Isabel will smile and admire him, and I shall have to be congratulatory +and say a hundred things I do not want to say. I do not care a farthing +for Sir Thomas and his partnership now, and I will not have his +patronage." Thus he talked to himself, as he opened the letter, and gave +his order for boiled mutton and caper sauce.</p> + +<p>When the mutton came he could not taste it. He looked dazed and shocked, +and the waiter asked: "Are you ill, sir?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," was the answer. "Give me a glass of wine."</p> + +<p>The wine did not help him, and he lifted the letter and went to his +room. There he threw himself upon the bed and lay motionless for an +hour. He was not thinking, he could not think; he was gathering his +forces physical and mental together, to enable him to overcome the shock +of Isabel's news, and decide on his future course.</p> + +<p>For the information which Isabel had given him in a very prosaic way had +shaken the foundations of his life, though he could not for awhile tell +whether he regarded it as welcome, or unwelcome. But as he began to +recognize its import, and its consequences, his feelings were certainly +not those of pleasure, nor even of satisfaction. He had rid himself of +all the encumbrances Theodora had left behind her. He had given his home +away and reduced the obligations to his kindred to a minimum, for a +visit once a week satisfied his mother and Christina; and if he missed a +week, no one complained or asked for the reason. At his club he was well +served, all his likes and dislikes were studied and pandered to. There +was no quarrelling at the club, no injured wife, no sick child, no +troublesome servants. He was leading a life that suited him, why should +he change it for Theodora?</p> + +<p>If Theodora had been in poverty and suffering, he felt sure he would +have had no hesitation, he would have hurried to her side, but a +Theodora happy, handsome, and prosperous, was a different problem. Why +had she not sent him a letter by Isabel? She must have known, that +Isabel would certainly reveal her residence, why then did she not do it +herself? "She ought to have written to me," he muttered, "it was her +duty, and until she does, I will not take any notice of Isabel's +information."</p> + +<p>With this determination he fell into an uneasy sleep, and lo, when he +awoke, he was in quite a different mood! Theodora, in her most +bewitching and pathetic moods, was stirring his memory, and he said +softly, yet with an eager passion: "I must go where Dora is! I must go +to her! I cannot go too quickly! I will see Isabel to-day, and get all +necessary information from her."</p> + +<p>He found Isabel enthusiastically ready to hasten him. She described the +Newton home—its beauty, comfort, peace, and happiness. She went into +italics about David—he was a young prince among boys of his age. He +rode wondrously, he could do anything with a rifle that a rifle was made +for, he was a good English scholar for his age, and was learning Latin +and German. She said his grandfather was his tutor, and that the two +were hardly ever apart.</p> + +<p>At this point Robert had a qualm of jealousy. The boy was <i>his</i> boy, and +he ought to be with him, and not with his grandfather. He was defrauded +on every side. He said passionately, he would go for the boy, and bring +him home at any rate; and Isabel told him plainly it could not be done. +"And as for Theodora," she continued, "she looks younger and lovelier +than when you married her. You should see her in white lawn with flowers +on her breast, or in her wonderful hair; or still better, on horseback, +with David riding at her side. Oh, Robert! You never knew the lovely +Theodora of to-day."</p> + +<p>"If she had any lover," he said slowly, "if she had any lover, you +would have discovered that fact, Isabel?"</p> + +<p>"Lover! That is nonsense. Her time and interests are taken up with her +teaching, writing, and her care of her child. She is educating five +girls, daughters of wealthy men living near, and she has published one +novel, and is writing another; and she helps Mr. Newton with his +manuscripts, and Mrs. Newton with her house. She is as busy as she is +happy. We stayed two weeks with her, and I saw no one like a lover. I do +remember at the hotel where I first saw her, there was a very handsome +dark man, who seemed to be on the most friendly, even familiar terms +with both Theodora and Mr. Newton. I asked her once who the man was, and +she said he was a neighbor, and that she was educating his two +daughters. Then I asked if he was likely to call and she told me he had +gone to his mine, and that was the reason we had not seen him every day. +She said she was sorry it had so happened, because he would have made +our visit much pleasanter."</p> + +<p>"No doubt," he answered. "Much pleasanter, of course. Thank you, Isabel. +I owe you more than I can ever pay. I shall go to San Francisco, and see +with my own eyes how things are."</p> + +<p>"You will see nothing wrong, Robert. Be sure of that. Dora is as good as +she is beautiful. I did not love her when I thought her an intruder into +my home, but in her own home, she is adorable. Every one loves her."</p> + +<p>"I object to every one loving her. She is mine. I am going to bring her +to her own home—where she ought to be."</p> + +<p>He would not remain to dinner. He was in haste to reach a solitude in +which he could commune with his own heart. For Isabel's words had roused +a fiery jealousy of his wife, and he had suddenly remembered his +mother's first question when she heard of Theodora's flight: "Has she +gone with that black-a-visored dandy staying at the Oliphants'?" He had +then scornfully denied the supposition—had felt as if it was hardly +worth denying. But at this hour, it assumed an importance that tortured +him. His mother had called him black-a-visored, and Isabel had called +him dark. The two were the same man, and this conviction came with that +infallible assurance, that turns a suspicion into a truth, beyond +inquiry or doubt.</p> + +<p>He got back to Glasgow—he hardly knew how. He was a little astonished +to find himself there. But something, held in abeyance while he was out +of the city, returned to him the moment he felt his feet on the wet +pavements, and breathed the foggy atmosphere. He knew himself again as +Robert Campbell, and with an accented display of his personality went +into the discreet, non-observant refuge of his club. He was hungry, and +he ate; in a whirl of intense feeling, and he drank to steady himself. +Then he went to see his mother. He wanted a few words with her, about +"the black-a-visored dandy."</p> + +<p>He found Traquair House topsy-turvy. Christina was giving a dance and +there was no privacy anywhere, but in his mother's room. She was dressed +for the occasion, and wearing her pearl and diamond ornaments, and he +had a moment's surprise and pleasure in her appearance.</p> + +<p>"Christina is giving a bit dance," she said apologetically, "and the +house is at sixes and sevens. It is the way o' young things. They must +turn everything upside down. You look badly, Robert. What's wrong wi' +you?"</p> + +<p>"I have found Theodora."</p> + +<p>"No wonder you look miserable. Where is she?"</p> + +<p>"In California."</p> + +<p>"Just the place for the like o' her. It is not past my memory, Robert, +when the scum o' the whole earth was running there. She did right to go +where she belongs."</p> + +<p>"<i>Hush</i>, mother! The Wyntons have been staying with her for two +weeks—and they were well entertained. She has a beautiful home, Isabel +says."</p> + +<p>"Have you seen Isabel?"</p> + +<p>"For an hour or two. She sent her love to you."</p> + +<p>"She can keep it. If it isn't worth bringing, it isn't worth having."</p> + +<p>"Mother, you once spoke to me of a dark man staying at the Oliphants', +and asked if Theodora had gone away with him. What made you ask that +question?"</p> + +<p>"Weel, Robert, she was always flitting quiet-like between this house and +the Oliphants'; and twice he walked with her to the top o' the street, +and they were a gey long time in holding hands, and saying good-bye."</p> + +<p>"Why did you not tell me then?"</p> + +<p>"I wanted to let the cutty tak' her run, and to see how far she would +go. I had my een on her."</p> + +<p>"I feel sure he is living near her, in California."</p> + +<p>"Very close, indeed, no doubt o' that—pitying and comforting her. Why +don't you do your own pitying?" she asked scornfully.</p> + +<p>"I am going to California to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Don't! You'll get yoursel' shot, or tarred and feathered, or maybe +lynched. Those West Americans are an unbidable lot; they are a law to +themselves, and a very bad law, generally speaking. Bide at hame, and +save your life. What for will you go seeking sorrow?"</p> + +<p>"I want my son. Isabel says he is a very prince among boys of his age."</p> + +<p>"No doubt o' it. There's enough Campbell in him to set him head and +shoulders over ordinary lads. But you send men now, that you know where +to send them, and let them get the lad away. They'll either coax or +carry him."</p> + +<p>"I want to see Theodora."</p> + +<p>"If you have a thimbleful o' sense, let her alone. Old love is a +dangerous thing to touch. She'll gie you the heartache o' the world +again, and you'll be down at her feet for comfort."</p> + +<p>"Did I ever down at her feet for anything?"</p> + +<p>"If you are tired o' freedom, and easy days, tak' yoursel' to +California. And what about the works, while you are seeking dool and +sorrow?"</p> + +<p>"I shall only be gone about six weeks."</p> + +<p>"Fiddlesticks! You are going into captivity—settle your business before +you go, and see that you don't forget your mother and sisters' bed and +board is in it."</p> + +<p>"I shall be back in six weeks. Good-bye, mother. Give my love to +Christina and Jamie, I will not trouble them now."</p> + +<p>"They are full o' their ain to-do at the present. I'll gie them your +message. Good-bye, and see you are home, ere I send after you."</p> + +<p>He went hastily downstairs, and could hardly believe he was walking +through Traquair House. Pretty girls in dancing dresses were constantly +passing him, young men were standing about in groups laughing and +talking, and there was the sound of fiddles tuning up in the distance. +It was all so unnatural that it affected him like the phantasmal +background of a dream. And he was suffering as he had never before +suffered in all his life, for jealousy, that brutal, overwhelming +passion, had seized him, and he was in a fire constantly growing +fiercer. Every thought he now had of Theodora fed it, and he hastened to +his club and locked himself in his room. It was clear to him, that he +must reach San Francisco by the swiftest means possible. In his +condition, he felt delay might mean severe illness, if not insanity.</p> + +<p>On the third morning after this determination, when he awoke he was out +of sight of land. The wind was high, and the sea rough, but he was not +sick, and the tumult of the elements suited his mood very well. He made +no friends, and his trouble had such a strong personality, that many +divined its reason.</p> + +<p>"He looks as if he was after a runaway wife," said one man, and his +companion answered: "I do not envy the fellow who has run away with her, +he will get no mercy from yonder husband, and as for the wife!"</p> + +<p>"God help her!"</p> + +<p>"It is Campbell of the Campbell Iron Works near Glasgow," said a third. +"I never heard that he had a wife. I shouldn't think he would care for +one. He lives only for those black, blasted furnaces. He is happy enough +among their slag and cinders, and smoke and flame. The country round +them is like Gehenna, but it suits him better than green pastures and +still waters. He isn't such a big man physically, but when he is +marching round among his workers, ordering this, and abusing that, you +would think he was ten feet high, and the men are sure of it. But +Campbell isn't a bad fellow take him by and long; he goes to Kirk +regular, and when he feels like giving, gives with both hands."</p> + +<p>"We might ask him to join us in a game of whist."</p> + +<p>"Nay, we had better let him alone. I think some American has maybe +stolen one o' his patents, or got ahead o' him in some way or other; and +he is going to have it out with him face to face—that would be like +Robert Campbell. He is in a fighting mood anyway, and he wouldn't help +our pleasure; far from it."</p> + +<p>This opinion seemed the general one, so on the voyage he made no +acquaintances, and when the steamer reached New York, he went directly +from her to the railway station, and bought a ticket for San Francisco. +His train was nearly ready, and in half-an-hour he was speeding +westwards. For a few days he noticed nothing, but after he had passed +St. Louis, he began to be astonished, and even slightly terrified at the +immense space separating him from all he knew and loved. Often he had an +urgent feeling that he must at once turn back, and he might have done +so, if a still stronger feeling had not urged him forward. A journey +from London to Edinburgh had always appeared to him a long one, and he +had even felt Sheffield very far from Scotland; but the vastness of the +present journey stupefied him. Before he reached San Francisco, he was +subject to attacks of sentiment about his native city and country. He +felt that he might never see them again.</p> + +<p>But the end came at last, and San Francisco itself was the climax to all +his wanderings. What could induce men to travel to the extremity of +creation, and then build there a city so large and so splendid? How +could they live and trade and make money so far from London and Paris +and the centre of the civilized world? He went to the hotel at which his +sister had stayed, and was obliged to admit that neither Glasgow, +London, nor Paris had anything to rival its luxury and splendor. He +began to be interested. He thought it might be worth while to dress a +little for dinner.</p> + +<p>For to a man as insular in mind as Robert Campbell, the scene was +amazing. He could have gone every day for fifty years to Glasgow +Exchange, and never witnessed anything like its cosmopolitan variety. +There did not seem to be two persons alike in nationality, caste, or +occupation. Even the Americans present were as diverse as the states +from which they came. For the first time in his life it struck Robert +Campbell, that Scotchmen might not possibly be the dominant race in all +the world's great business thoroughfares.</p> + +<p>He forgot his absorbing trouble for awhile, or at least it blended +itself with elements that diluted and even changed its character. Thus, +he began to fancy Theodora in her loveliest, proudest mood walking +through this motley crowd. How would she regard him in it? How would the +crowd regard her? He was busy with this question, when his attention was +attracted by a man who reminded him of something known and familiar. "He +at least has the look of a Scotchman," he mused. "I must have seen him +before somewhere." If he had kept any memory of his own face and figure, +perhaps he might have traced the resemblance home. But often as we look +in our mirrors, who does not straightway forget what manner of man, or +woman, they are?</p> + +<p>For the stranger who had been able to interest Robert Campbell was his +brother David. He was talking earnestly to two men whom Robert could not +classify. They wore no coats, or vests, and the wide, strong leather +belts with which they were girdled had somehow a formidable look; for +though quite innocent of offensive weapons, they appeared to promise or +threaten them. David was evidently their superior, perhaps their +employer, but there was a kind of equality unconsciously exhibited which +Robert wondered at, and did not approve. He felt that under no +circumstances would he have been seen talking familiarly to men so +manifestly of the lower classes.</p> + +<p>But when they went away, David shook hands with them and then stood +still a moment as if undecided about his next movement; and Robert +watched him so fixedly, that he probably compelled his brother's +attention. For he suddenly lifted his eyes, and they met Robert's eyes, +and his face brightened, and he walked rapidly forward, till he placed +his hands on Robert's shoulders, and with a glad smile cried:</p> + +<p>"Robert, Robert Campbell! Don't you know me, Robert? Don't you know me?"</p> + +<p>And Robert gazing into his eager face answered slowly: "Are you +David—my brother? Are you David Campbell, my brother David?"</p> + +<p>"Sit down, dear lad! I am David Campbell. Sure as death, I am your +brother David. Get yourself together, and we will go and have dinner. +You look as if you were going to faint—why, Robert!"</p> + +<p>"I forgot dinner. I have had nothing to-day but a cup of coffee. Oh, +David, David! what a Providence you are! How did you happen in here?"</p> + +<p>"I came to watch for you. I have been coming every day for three weeks. +Can you walk a few steps now? You are requiring food. What made you +forget to eat?"</p> + +<p>"Trouble, great trouble—crazy love, and crazy jealousy. My wife and my +child have left me!"</p> + +<p>"I know."</p> + +<p>"How do you know?"</p> + +<p>"They are my dearest neighbors."</p> + +<p>"Then you saw Isabel?"</p> + +<p>"I did not. I was at the mine, but Theodora told me all about her visit, +and as I knew Isabel would tell you where your wife and child were +living, I have been watching for your arrival. Come now, and let us have +something to eat. Afterwards we will talk."</p> + +<p>"What a splendid dining-room!"</p> + +<p>"Isn't it? And you will get a splendid meal!" He called a negro and +said: "Tobin, bring us the best dinner you can serve."</p> + +<p>The order was promptly and amply obeyed, and before dinner was half over +Robert's irritability and faintness had vanished, and he was the usual +assertive, domineering Robert Campbell. But not until they had finished +eating, and were sitting in the shady court with their cigars would +David allow their personal conversation to be renewed. He began it by +saying:</p> + +<p>"You will wish to see Theodora to-morrow, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"I wish to see her at once—to-night."</p> + +<p>"That will not do! You want a good sleep, you want a bath and a barber, +and some decent clothes on you."</p> + +<p>"I am not going courting, David."</p> + +<p>"Then you need not go at all. You will require to do the best courting +you ever did, or ever can do, if you hope to get a hearing from +Theodora."</p> + +<p>"She is my wife, David, and she——"</p> + +<p>"Will be far harder to win, than ever Miss Newton was."</p> + +<p>"Win! She was won long ago."</p> + +<p>"Won—and lost. You will not find this second winning an easy one."</p> + +<p>"How do you know so much about her?"</p> + +<p>"I knew all about her miserable life, before I knew her; but I finally +met her at my friend Oliphant's."</p> + +<p>"And it was the Oliphants who told you all her complainings. Mother +never trusted them. It seems she was right—as usual."</p> + +<p>"The Oliphants told me nothing. I heard all her life with you from my +foster-mother, McNab."</p> + +<p>"McNab, your foster-mother, David?"</p> + +<p>"McNab nursed, and mothered me. She was the only mother I ever had."</p> + +<p>"McNab! McNab! Now I begin to understand—and the Oliphants are your +friends? And you stayed with them when in Glasgow?"</p> + +<p>"Always. John Oliphant and I have been acquainted since we were lads +together."</p> + +<p>Then Robert burst into uncanny laughter and answered: "You are the man, +David, I have been wanting to kill all the way across the Atlantic and +across the continent." David looked at his brother full in the eyes, as +men look at a wild animal, and asked slowly: "Why did you want to kill +me, Robert? What harm had I done you?"</p> + +<p>"When I told mother Theodora had gone away from me, her first words +were: 'Has that black-a-visored dandy, staying at the Oliphants', gone +with her?' She added, that she had 'seen you with Theodora and that at +parting you held her hand—and seemed very loth to leave her.'"</p> + +<p>"Mother was altogether wrong. I never was on any street in Glasgow with +your wife. I was never seen in public with her anywhere. I respected +your honor, as well as my own, and never by word, deed, or even thought +wronged it."</p> + +<p>"Why should mother have told such a—lie?"</p> + +<p>"Because it is her nature to make all the trouble she can."</p> + +<p>"But you advised Theodora to leave me?"</p> + +<p>"Never. She acted entirely on her father's and mother's advice. But when +I saw they had resolved to come to the United States, and knew nothing +of the country, I told Mr. Newton about California, and advised him to +make a home here. And as I and my daughters were travelling the same +road, I did do all I could, to make the long journey as easy as +possible. Could any man seeing a party like the inexperienced minister, +and his invalid wife, daughter, and her child, do less than help them +all he could? You owe me some thanks, Robert, when you get sane enough +to pay your debt."</p> + +<p>"I do thank you, David, and what other debt do I owe you? Theodora had +no money."</p> + +<p>"Her father gave me money to buy two of the best staterooms for them. He +paid all their expenses of every kind, and he bought the house in which +they are now living, and paid for it. Since then he has preached, and +lectured, and written, and made a very good living. He has had no +necessity to be indebted to any one. Yet if he had needed money, I would +have gladly loaned him all he required."</p> + +<p>"Oh, David, David! Forgive me. I am in a fever. I do not know what I am +saying. Ever since my wife left me, and wronged me——"</p> + +<p>"Stop, Robert. Your wife never wronged you. She allowed you to wrong her +six years too long. If she had not left you, she would have been dead +long ago. To-morrow, you will see what love, and peace, and this +splendid climate have done for her."</p> + +<p>"And what has her desertion done for me?"</p> + +<p>"If it has not taught you the priceless worth of the loving woman you +were torturing daily, it has done nothing. Wait till you see your son, +and then try and imagine the wretched child he would have been, if his +mother had not braved everything for his sake and taken him beyond the +power of the unnatural woman who hated him."</p> + +<p>"She hated him because he was called David."</p> + +<p>"And she hated me because she wronged me. If she had nursed me, she +would have loved me. She sent me to Lugar Hill School because she hated +me, and she would have sent your David there for the same reason. +Theodora did well, did right to take any means to save the child from +such a terrible life. If she had not done so, she would have been as +cruel as his grandmother—and father."</p> + +<p>"My head burns, and my heart aches! I can say no more now, David."</p> + +<p>"Poor lad! My heart aches for you. But there is a happy future for +Robert Campbell yet. I am sure of it. Put all thought and feeling away +until the morning, and sleep, and sleep, as long as you can."</p> + +<p>"I want to see Theodora early in the day."</p> + +<p>"You cannot. As I told you before, the bath and the barber and the +tailor are necessary. Have you forgotten the spotless neatness and +delicacy of Theodora's toilet? You are going a-wooing, and you must be +more careful in dressing for Theodora Campbell than you were in dressing +for Theodora Newton."</p> + +<p>"I cannot think any longer. I will consider what you say in the +morning."</p> + +<p>"You will be a new man, and begin a new life to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"I want the old life."</p> + +<p>"You do not. And you will never get it. The old life has gone forever."</p> + +<p>In the morning he did not even want it. He he had slept profoundly, and +when he had made all preparations for his visit to Theodora, he was +quite pleased with his renovated appearance. David spoke of sending a +message to her, but Robert thought a surprise visit would be best for +himself. He would not give his wife an opportunity to sit down and +recall all his past offences, and arrange the mood in which she would +meet him, and the words she would say.</p> + +<p>"We do not require to hurry," said David. "She is dismissing her classes +for the summer holidays to-day, and will not be at liberty until near +three o'clock. So we will eat lunch here, and then drive leisurely over +to Newton Place."</p> + +<p>Robert shrugged his shoulders impatiently. He thought his brother was +much too leisurely, but when they were rolling pleasantly along through +the beautiful land, he was not disposed to complain. It was indeed a New +World to him. Half-a-mile from the Newton dwelling, they heard voices +and laughter, and the clatter of horses' feet going at full speed, and +immediately there came into view three young riders—two girls, and a +tall, gallant-looking lad as their escort.</p> + +<p>"<i>Look, Robert, look!</i>" cried David, much excited. "Here come my two +girls, and your own little lad. They are racing, and will not stop. Be +ready to give them a '<i>bravo!</i>' in passing." He had hardly finished +speaking, ere the gay, laughing party were behind them. They were all in +white linen, and the girls' long bright hair was flowing freely, and had +pink ribbons in it; and the boy had a black ribbon at his knees, and on +his shoes, and an eagle's feather in his cap. And their bright faces +were full of light and mirth, and their voices a living tongue of +gladness, as they passed crying joyously, "Uncle David! Papa! Papa!"</p> + +<p>"My God!" ejaculated Robert. "Is it possible? Can that be my little +David?"</p> + +<p>"It is your David." Then both men were silent, until Robert heard his +brother say, "This is Newton Place," and he looked in astonishment at +the house they were approaching. "It is a lovely spot," he said, "and +there is a great deal of land round it."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Newton made a good investment. The land has increased in value +steadily ever since he bought it. You had better get out at this +turning. I will take the buggy to the stable, and you can go to the door +and ring for admittance." Robert did not like to object, and he did as +directed. The door was standing wide open, but he rang the bell. A +Japanese boy answered the summons, and opening a parlor he told Robert +to take a seat. "Your card, sir," he asked, holding out the little tray +to receive it.</p> + +<p>Robert grew red and angry, but he took a card from his pocket-book, and +threw it upon the tray, and when the boy had left the room he laughed +bitterly, and muttered: "It is a fine thing for Robert Campbell to send +his visiting card to his wife." He would not sit down, but stood glaring +around the cool, dusky room, so comforting after the heat and sunshine. +"I suppose I shall be kept waiting while my wife considers whether to +see me or not; but she may consider too long. I will not be snubbed by +any woman living."</p> + +<p>As he made this resolution, Theodora entered. She came forward with both +hands extended, and her face was radiant, and her voice full of happy +tones. He would have taken her in his arms, but she kept his hands in +hers and led him to a seat. Then Mr. Newton came in with David, and he +threw open the windows, and let in the sunshine, and Theodora was +revealed in all her splendid beauty. In a long white dress, with a white +rose in her hair, she lacked nothing that rich materials or vivid colors +could have given her. Her beautiful hair, her sparkling eyes, her +exquisite complexion, the potent sense of health and vitality which was +her atmosphere, commanded instant delight and admiration; and Robert +could only gaze and wonder. How had this brilliant woman been evolved +from the pale, frail, perishing Theodora he had last seen?</p> + +<p>In a short time the three men went out together to look at the fruit +trees and the wonderful flowers, and Theodora assisted her mother to +prepare such a meal as she knew Robert enjoyed; and when they sat down +to it, she placed Robert at her right hand. They were still at the table +when David came galloping home, and in a few minutes he entered the +room. Every eye was turned on the boy, but he saw at first no one but +his uncle.</p> + +<p>"Cousin Agnes won!" he cried, "won by two lengths, uncle. Isn't she +great?" Then he noticed his father, and for a few moments seemed +puzzled. There was not a word, not a movement as the boy gazed. Theodora +held her breath in suspense. But it was only for a few moments; joyfully +he exclaimed: "I know! I know!" and the next instant his arms were round +his father's neck, and he was crying, "It is father! Father, father! Let +me sit beside him, mother." And Theodora made room for the boy's chair +between them.</p> + +<p>The evening was a revelation to the discarded husband. Theodora sang +wonderfully some American songs that Robert had never before +heard—music with a charm entirely fresh and new; and David recited an +English and Latin lesson, and then at his uncle's request, spoke in good +broad Scotch Robert Burns' grand lyric, "<i>A Man's a Man for a' That</i>." +Robert said little, but he drew the lad between his knees, and whispered +something to him which transfigured the child's face. He trusted his +father implicitly, he always had done, and his father had a heartache +that night, when he thought of the wrong that might have been done to +the helpless child.</p> + +<p>Soon after nine o'clock, David Campbell said: "Come, brother, we have a +short ride before us, and I like to close my house at ten; also I am +sure you are weary."</p> + +<p>Robert said he was, but he rose more like a man that had received a +blow, than one simply tired. He could scarcely speak his adieus—and he +could not answer Theodora's invitation to "call early on the following +day" except in single words. "Yes—no—perhaps."</p> + +<p>They were outside the Newton grounds before he spoke to his brother, +then he said: "David, it is too hard. I don't understand. She never +asked me to stay—the Wyntons were asked. I feel as if I had no business +here. I had better go back to Glasgow. I will go back to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"It is not her house. She rents her classroom, and pays her own and her +child's board and lodging there. That is all. She had no right to ask +you to remain. It is Mr. Newton's house, and he received you in a +Christian and gentlemanly spirit. I do not care to say how I would have +received a man who had treated my Agnes, or Flora, in the way Theodora +was treated."</p> + +<p>"I will go back to Glasgow to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"You will do so at the peril of all your future happiness and +prosperity."</p> + +<p>Then they were silent until they reached a great white house standing in +green depths of sweet foliage. Robert wondered and admired. Its vast +hall, and the spacious room, so splendidly furnished, into which his +brother led him, filled him with astonishment. Two pretty girls were +sitting at a table drawing embroidery patterns, and they nearly threw +the table over in their delight when their father entered.</p> + +<p>"Here is your Uncle Robert Campbell!" he cried joyously. "Give him some +of your noisy welcome, and then run away, you little cherubs, or you +will miss your beauty sleep."</p> + +<p>They were soon alone, and David turned out some of the lights and placed +a box of cigars on the table, and the two men smoked in silence for a +little while. Then Robert said: "You are very rich, I suppose, David."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am tolerably well off."</p> + +<p>"And very happy?"</p> + +<p>"As happy as a man can be, who has lost the dearest and sweetest of +wives."</p> + +<p>"But you will marry again?"</p> + +<p>"Not until my daughters are married! I will never give them a +stepmother; she might make me a stepfather. But when they are settled, I +may marry again."</p> + +<p>"Do you know any one likely to take the place of your dead wife?"</p> + +<p>"No one can ever take her place. There is a very noble woman who may +make her own place in my heart and home. I think it would be a very +strong, sweet place."</p> + +<p>"Is she Scotch?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"English?"</p> + +<p>"No."</p> + +<p>"American?"</p> + +<p>"Spanish-American."</p> + +<p>"Beautiful?"</p> + +<p>"Very—and of lovely disposition and great attainments. She is also +rich, but that I do not count."</p> + +<p>"What is her name?"</p> + +<p>"Mercedes Morena. She is a Roman Catholic, a woman of fervent piety."</p> + +<p>"Spanish. And a Papist. What will mother say?</p> + +<p>"All kinds of hard things—no doubt—though money makes a good deal of +difference in mother's conclusions. But I care nothing for her opinion; +a wife is a man's most sacred and personal relation. No one has a right +to object to the woman he chooses. It is no one's business but his own."</p> + +<p>"When I married Theodora, she looked as she looked to-night, only +to-night she is far more lovely. Oh, David, I cannot give her up! She is +tied to me by my heart-strings. I shall cease to live, if she refuses +me."</p> + +<p>"And, Robert, she is good as she is lovely. I marvel that you could live +six years at her side, and not grow into her spiritual and mental +likeness."</p> + +<p>"The Campbells have a strong individuality, David."</p> + +<p>"I tell you frankly, she has lifted me upward almost unconsciously. I +would not do the things to-day I did without uneasiness four years ago. +For instance, I would not to-day go into my mother's home and presence +unknown to her. I would not to-day visit you and your works as a +stranger. I enjoyed the incognito four years ago. It appears to me now +dishonorable and vulgar. No one has told me so, or corrected me for +it—the knowledge came with the gradual and general uplift of my ideals, +through companionship and conversation with your wife. How did you +escape her sweet influences?"</p> + +<p>"I kept out of their way."</p> + +<p>"Did you never make any effort to find your wife and child?"</p> + +<p>"I spent four thousand pounds looking for her. Then Isabel advised me to +give the search up, and leave the whole affair to Destiny. I did not +mind the money—much, but I did mind terribly the talk and the +newspapers. I felt it to be a great trial to face even my workmen."</p> + +<p>"How did mother take the event?"</p> + +<p>"She defied it—laughed at it—defended her cruelty—said she would do +it all over again."</p> + +<p>"I have no doubt of it."</p> + +<p>"Dr. Robertson—who heard the whole story from Mrs. Oliphant—came out +to the works to see me, and he said some awful things. He even told me, +that until I repented of my sinful conduct, and acknowledged it before a +session of the Kirk officers, he would refuse the Holy Communion."</p> + +<p>"He did right, Robert, and I am glad to hear that Scotch dominies are +still brave enough to reprove sin in the rich places of the Kirk."</p> + +<p>"Then he went to mother, and told her the same thing."</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"He could do nothing with mother. She ordered him to 'attend to his +Kirk and his bit sermons, and leave her household alone.' I will not +repeat their conversation—you would not believe any one would dare to +browbeat a minister as she did. He forbid her the sacramental occasion, +and she ordered him out of her house. It made a great scandal. It made +me wretched."</p> + +<p>"What did you do about the Sabbath Day?"</p> + +<p>"There was a new church very near to us, and they were a struggling +congregation, with a boyish kind of minister. Mother was gladly received +there. She rented the most extravagant pew, gave one hundred pounds to +the church fund, and took the minister into her personal care and +protection. Christina and her husband went with her. Mother owns the +Kirk and the minister, and the elders and the deacons, and all the +congregation now. Every one praises her orthodoxy and her generosity, +and she does as she thinks right in Free St. Jude's."</p> + +<p>David laughed heartily, and Robert continued: "All the ladies' societies +meet in Traquair House, and all of them are prosperous. She is president +of some, treasurer of others, and she entertains all of them with a +splendid hospitality. And Christina tells me, she never fails to speak +with pitying scorn of Dr. Robertson and his Kirk. I heard her myself one +day tell them, 'that he was clean behind the times in Christian work. +What is a Kirk worth?' she asked, 'without plenty of Ladies' Auxiliary +Societies? The women in a Kirk must work, God knows the men won't! They +spin a sovereign into the collection box, and think they have done +their full share. Poor things, it is maybe all they can do! The women of +Free St. Jude's must be an example to the Robertson Kirk, and the like +o' it.'"</p> + +<p>"She is a great woman, is mother, in some ways," said David, and he +laughed disdainfully.</p> + +<p>"She is," answered Robert. "I think I will go home to-morrow. Theodora +no longer loves me, and yet, David, I love her a million times more than +ever. No, I can not give her up; I can not, I will not! I will win her +over again—if I stay a year to do it."</p> + +<p>"You would be unworthy of love, or even life, if you gave her up. But +you are worn out and not able to arrange yourself. Come, I will take you +to your room, and to-morrow go and ask her plainly, if she still loves +you."</p> + +<p>"I will."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII</h2> + +<h3>THE RECONSTRUCTED MARRIAGE</h3> + + +<p>During the following three weeks, Robert lived in an earthly paradise. +His brother drew him with cords of strong wisdom and affection always +into the ways of pleasantness and peace. Theodora grew every day more +lovely and more familiar; her little coolnesses vanished in the warmth +of Robert's smiles, her shy pride was conquered by his persistent and +passionate wooing; and the days went by in a glory of innocent +amusements. Theodora and little David were clever and fearless riders, +and they soon made the accomplishment easy to Robert, who was delighted +with its joyful mastery, and greatly disappointed if bad weather, or any +other event, prevented their morning gallop.</p> + +<p>Very frequently he accompanied his brother into San Francisco, met many +of her great financiers and merchants, and was their guest at such +elaborate lunches and dinners as he had never dreamed possible. Or, he +went with Mr. Newton to his vineyard and watched the process of +raisin-making. And Theodora had a dance for him, and the lovely young +girls present taught him the American steps, and made him wonder over +their beauty, their brightness, their perfect ease of manner, and their +manifest superiority and authority over male adorers, who appeared to +be perfectly delighted with their own subjugation. A full course at the +greatest university in the world would not have given him such a +civilizing social education as the pretty girls of San Francisco did in +a month.</p> + +<p>But all things come to an end, and one day Robert received two letters +which compelled a pause in this pleasant life. They were from his mother +and his head manager. His mother wrote: "You be to come home, Robert +Campbell; everything is going to the mischief wanting you! I am hearing +that the men are on strike at the works, and that the fires have been +banked, and the gates locked. Jamie Rathey is drinking too much wine and +neglecting his business, and Christina is whimpering and scolding, for +she knows well he will not behave himself until he gets the word from +you. As for myself, I am barely holding up against the great strain, for +there's none to help me, Christina having trouble enough in her own +shoes, and My Lady Wynton having almost forgotten the way to her own +home, since she was promoted to a residence in Wynton Castle. So, +Robert, my lad, come back as quick as you can, for your mother is sorely +needing you."</p> + +<p>He showed this letter to his brother, and David only smiled. "Let me see +your manager's letter, Robert," he asked, and when he had read it, he +smiled still more significantly.</p> + +<p>"I do not think your letters need give you any anxiety, Robert," he +said. "The letter from Andrew Starkie, your manager, is dated two days +later than mother's, and he does not even name a strike among your +workers. He seems troubled only because the orders are so large he is +afraid that the cash left at his command will not be sufficient to carry +them out. We can send more money to-day. I see no necessity for you to +hurry. I want you to take a sail up to Vancouver, and another sail down +to the Isthmus. You have given me no time yet. And what about your +position with Theodora?"</p> + +<p>"I must find that out immediately. The day after I came, I gave her a +ring she valued highly—a ring that her pupils presented to her. It had +been stolen, and I recovered it, and she was delighted when I put it on +her finger. But when I offered her the wedding ring she returned it to +me, she shook her head, closed her eyes, and would not look at it."</p> + +<p>"Try her again. She has changed since then. I am sure she loves you +now."</p> + +<p>"I am just going to her," and he turned away with such a mournful look +that his brother called him back.</p> + +<p>"Look here, Robert," he said, "faint heart never won fair lady, or +anything else for that matter. Your face is enough to frighten any +woman. Women do not fancy despairers."</p> + +<p>"David, you don't know what a hopeless task it is to court your wife. +She knows all your weak points, and just how most cruelly to snub you."</p> + +<p>"That is not Theodora's way! Speak to her kindly, but bravely. Be +straight in all you say, for I declare to you she <i>feels</i> a lie."</p> + +<p>"Great heavens! I should think I know that, David. I was often forced to +break my promises to her, or in the stress of business I forgot them; +and at last, she never noticed any promise I made. It used to make me +angry."</p> + +<p>"What made you angry?"</p> + +<p>"O, the change in her face, when I said I would do anything. She never +contradicted me in words, but I knew she was mentally throwing my +promise over her shoulder. It was not pleasant."</p> + +<p>"Very unpleasant—to her."</p> + +<p>"I meant to myself."</p> + +<p>"Well, Robert, when you are going to ask a woman to do you a miraculous +favor, do not think of yourself, think of her. Forget yourself, this +morning."</p> + +<p>"O, I think constantly of Theodora."</p> + +<p>David looked queerly at his brother, and seemed on the point of asking +him a question, but he likely thought it useless. Robert went off trying +to look hopeful and brave, but inwardly in a muddle of anxious +uncertainty, because of his mother's letter. He found Theodora in a +shady corner of the piazza; she was reclining in a Morris chair, and +thinking of him. Her loving smile, her happy leisure, her morning +freshness and beauty, her outstretched hand, made an entrancing picture. +He placed a chair at her side, and sat down, and Theodora after a glance +into his face asked:</p> + +<p>"O, knight of the rueful countenance, what troubles you this beautiful +morning?"</p> + +<p>"I have had letters from home," he answered; "not pleasant letters."</p> + +<p>"From your mother, then?"</p> + +<p>"One of them is from mother."</p> + +<p>"She could not write a pleasant letter, and if she could, she would +not."</p> + +<p>"Will you read it?"</p> + +<p>"I would not cast my eyes upon anything her eyes have looked on."</p> + +<p>"She says enough to make it necessary for me to go home."</p> + +<p>"Home?"</p> + +<p>"It is the only home I have. You——"</p> + +<p>"Do not include me, in any remark about your home."</p> + +<p>"Once you made my home your home."</p> + +<p>"Never! There was no such thing as home, in Traquair House."</p> + +<p>"But, my darling Dora—my darling wife——"</p> + +<p>"I am not your wife. When I sent you the wedding ring back—that you +said was yours, not mine—I divorced myself from all a wife's duties, +pains, and penalties."</p> + +<p>"You are my wife, and nothing but my death can make you free."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but you are mistaken! You made a solemn contract with me, and you +broke every condition of that contract."</p> + +<p>"Suppose I did, that——"</p> + +<p>"Your faithlessness made the contract null and void——"</p> + +<p>"The law of England——"</p> + +<p>"I care nothing about the law of England. I am now an American citizen."</p> + +<p>"But, Dora, my dear, dear love, you will surely go back to Glasgow with +me?"</p> + +<p>"Not for all creation! I would rather die."</p> + +<p>"Am I to go back alone? That is too cruel."</p> + +<p>"Why do you wish to go back?"</p> + +<p>"Have you considered my business, Dora?"</p> + +<p>"No, I have thought only of you."</p> + +<p>"But you must think of my business. How can you expect me to give it up? +Why, the 'Campbell Iron Works' are almost historic. They were founded by +my great-grandfather. They are making more money under my management +than ever they did before."</p> + +<p>"If you put your historic iron works before me, you are not worthy of +me."</p> + +<p>"My mother's, and my sister's livelihoods are in the works. They look to +me to protect them."</p> + +<p>"If you put your mother, and your sisters before me, you are not worthy +of me."</p> + +<p>"They love me, Dora."</p> + +<p>"Your mother has many investments. She is rich. Your sisters are well +married. Neither of them would put you before their husbands, why should +you put them before your wife and son? If they had loved you, they would +not have broken up your home, and driven your wife and child away from +you. You were a provider of cash, a giver of social prestige to them—no +more."</p> + +<p>"Then you expect me to give up my family, my business, my +country—everything."</p> + +<p>"I will have everything, or nothing."</p> + +<p>She rose as she said these words, and stood looking into his face with +eyes full of love and trouble.</p> + +<p>"Then God help me, Theodora," he faltered, "for this hour I die to every +hope of happiness in this life!" He lifted her hand, and his tears +dropped on it as he kissed it. "Farewell! Farewell!"</p> + +<p>He was standing before her the image of despairing Love, and she lifted +her eyes, and they met the passionate grief in his. She could not bear +it. "Oh, Robert!" she sobbed, "Oh, Robert, I do love you. I have loved +none but you. I never shall love any other." She laid her head against +his shoulder, and he silently kissed her many times, and then went +slowly away.</p> + +<p>He went straight to his brother with his sorrow, and David listened in +grave silence, until the story of the interview was over. Then he said +softly:</p> + +<p>"<i>Poor Theodora!</i>"</p> + +<p>Robert was astonished, even hurt by the exclamation. "Why do you pity +Theodora?" he asked. "It is I you ought to pity."</p> + +<p>"You ought to have had pity on yourself, Robert. Of course, you are +miserable, and you will be far more miserable. How could you bear to +give your wife such a cowardly disappointment; how could you do it?"</p> + +<p>"I do not understand you, David—cowardly——"</p> + +<p>"Yes, that is the word for it. You have been persuading her for a month, +that you loved her before, and above, all earthly things. As you +noticed, she did not at first believe this, but I am sure the last two +weeks she has taken all your protestations into her heart."</p> + +<p>"I told her nothing but the truth."</p> + +<p>"And as soon as you think she loves you——"</p> + +<p>"She does love me—she says so."</p> + +<p>"You take advantage of her love, and ask her to go back to a life that +almost killed her, before she fled from it. Poor Theodora! And I call +your act a selfish, cowardly one."</p> + +<p>"What did you expect me to do?"</p> + +<p>"To give up everything for her."</p> + +<p>"To give up the works—the Campbell Iron Works! To give them up! Sell +them perhaps at a loss! Did you expect I would do this?"</p> + +<p>"I did. I supposed you wished her to be again your wife."</p> + +<p>"You know I wished it."</p> + +<p>"I do not believe you. I think as your holiday was over, you wished to +back out of your promise, and you knew the easiest way to do so was to +require her to go back to Glasgow."</p> + +<p>"Back out! What do you mean, David?"</p> + +<p>"Your mother orders you home, and rather than offend her, or meet her +sarcasms, you ask Theodora to do what you well know she will never do. +Having taught her to love you again, you make her an offer that it is +impossible for her to accept; then you leave her to suffer once more +the pang of wrong and despairing love. Cowardly is too mild a word; your +conduct is that of a scoundrel."</p> + +<p>"My God, David, are you turning against me?"</p> + +<p>"Robert, Robert! I am ashamed of you. Suppose Theodora went back to +Glasgow with you, what would be her position, and what would +people—especially women—say about it? She would be a wife who ran away +from her husband, but whom her husband discovered, and brought back to +her duties. Upon this text, what cutting, cruel speeches mother and all +the women in your set would make. The position would be a triumph for +you—some men would envy and admire you, all would praise you for +standing up so persistently for the authority of the male. But poor +Theodora, who would stand by her?"</p> + +<p>"I would."</p> + +<p>"And your defence of your wife would be counted as a thing chivalrous +and magnanimous in you, but it would be disgraceful in her to require +it. She, the poor innocent one, would get all the blame and the shame, +you, the guilty one——"</p> + +<p>"Stop, David! I never thought of her return in this light."</p> + +<p>"I can imagine mother and the rest of the women chortling and glorying +over the runaway wife brought back."</p> + +<p>"I tell you, I would stand by her through thick and thin."</p> + +<p>"But you could not prevent the women hounding her, and upon my honor, +Robert, she would deserve it."</p> + +<p>"No, David. She would not deserve it."</p> + +<p>"I say she would."</p> + +<p>"What for?"</p> + +<p>"For coming back with you. Every woman with a particle of self-respect +would feel that she had betrayed her sex, and dishonored her wifehood, +and they would despise, and speak ill of her for doing so. And she would +deserve it."</p> + +<p>"Then all this month you have been expecting me to come here to live?"</p> + +<p>"There was no other manly and gentlemanly way out of your dilemma; and +your coming at all authorized the expectation."</p> + +<p>"The iron works are not all, David. Do you think I care nothing for my +family, and my country?"</p> + +<p>"Do you think you are the only person who cares for their family? What +about Theodora's feelings? Her father gave up his ministry, and taking +his wife and the savings of his whole life, he came here to the ends of +the earth with his child, because you had treated her and her son +cruelly. Now you ask her to leave them here, in a new country, where +they have not one relative—in their old age——"</p> + +<p>"I forgot their claim. I will pay all their expenses back to England."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Newton could not bear the journey back. Mr. Newton has lost all +his interests in England; what money they have is invested here. Oh, if +you do not instantly see their pitiful condition without their +daughter, it is useless to explain it to you. Then there is their +grandchild. He is the light of their life. If their grandchild was taken +away, they would be bereft indeed."</p> + +<p>"Their grandchild is my son. My claim is paramount. I must have my boy +at all hazards. I want him educated in Scotland, and brought up a +Scotchman, not an American. He will be heir to the works, and must +understand the people, and the conditions he has to live with, and work +with."</p> + +<p>"You will never make a Scotchman of Davie. You will never get him out of +this country, or this state. You will never make an iron-worker of +David, he loves too well the free, and open-air life; and the blue +skies, and sunshine."</p> + +<p>"He is under authority, and must come."</p> + +<p>"Under his mother's authority yet, and mind this, Robert, <i>you will not +be permitted</i> to take him from her; <i>not be permitted</i>, I say."</p> + +<p>"My God, what am I to do?"</p> + +<p>"Do right. There is no other way to be happy."</p> + +<p>"There are two rights here, my mother and my sisters have claims as well +as my wife and my son."</p> + +<p>"Then for God's sake go to your mother and your sisters! Why did you +come to me for advice, when you are still tied to your mother's +apron-strings."</p> + +<p>"Now, you are angry at me."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and justly so. But if you are bent on Glasgow, the sooner you +start for the dismal city, the better."</p> + +<p>"I will go at once. Will you let some one drive me to San Francisco?"</p> + +<p>"I will tell Saki to bring a buggy to the door in half-an-hour."</p> + +<p>"Don't go away from me, David—don't do that! I am miserable enough +without your desertion."</p> + +<p>"I am disappointed in you, Robert—sorely, sorely disappointed. I have +had a dream about our future lives together, and it is, it seems, only a +dream. Good-bye, Robert! I do not feel able to watch the ending of all +my hopes, so Saki will drive you to the city. And you, too, will be +better alone. Good-bye, good-bye!"</p> + +<p>So they parted, and Robert was driven into the city and took his ticket +for the next train bound for New York. He had some hours to wait, and he +went to the hotel he had frequented with his brother, and sat down in +the office. Undoubtedly there was a secret hope in his heart, that David +would follow him, and he watched with anxiety every newcomer. But David +did not follow him, and when he could wait no longer, he went to his +train. Bitter disquiet and uncertainty wrung his heart, and he was glad +when the moving train permitted him to isolate himself in a dismal, +sullen stillness.</p> + +<p>He had also a violent nervous headache, and physical pain was a thing he +knew so little about, that he was astonished at his suffering, and +resented it. "And this is the end of everything!" he muttered to +himself, "the end of everything! It was brutal to expect me to give up +my business, my family, and my country," and then he ceased, for +something reminded him that Theodora had once made that same sacrifice +for him. In any crisis the "set" of the life will count, and the "set" +of Robert's life was selfishness. This passion now boldly combated all +dissent from his personal satisfaction, denied any supremacy but his +will, drowned the voice of Honor, the pleadings of Love, and insisted on +his own pleasure and interest, at all costs.</p> + +<p>Sorrow, if it be possible, takes refuge in sleep; but sleep was far from +Robert Campbell. His body was racked with physical suffering that he +knew not how to alleviate; his soul was aching in all its senses. He was +assailed by memories, every one of which he would like to have met with +a shriek. All he loved was behind him, every moment he was leaving them +further behind. And his God dwelt—or visited—only in sacred buildings. +He never thought of Him as in a railway car, never supposed Him to be +observant of the trouble between his wife and himself, would not have +believed that there was present an Omniscient Eye, looking with ancient +kindness on all his pain, and ready to relieve it. And oh, the terror of +those long nights, when suffering, sorrow, and remorse were riotous, and +where to him, <i>God was not</i>!</p> + +<p>On the second day, the conductor began to watch Campbell. He induced him +to take a cup of strong coffee and lie down, and then went among the +passengers seeking a physician. "I am a physician," said a young man +whose seat was not far from Robert's. "I am Dr. Stuart of San Francisco. +I have been watching the man you mean; he is either insane or ill. I +will not neglect him."</p> + +<p>Robert was really ill; he grew better and worse, better and worse +constantly, until they were near Denver. Then Dr. Stuart went to his +side and made another effort to induce him to converse. "You are ill," +he said. "I am a physician and know it. You must stop travelling for a +few days. Get off at Denver. Where is your home?"</p> + +<p>"In Scotland. I am going there."</p> + +<p>"Impossible—as you now are. Get off at Denver. Go to an hotel, and send +for this physician," and he handed him a slip of paper on which the name +was written. Robert glanced at it, and held it in his hand.</p> + +<p>"Put it in your vest pocket."</p> + +<p>He did so, but his hands trembled so violently, and he looked into the +man's face with eyes so full of unspeakable suffering and sorrow, that +the stranger's heart was touched. He resolved to get off at Denver with +him, and see that he was properly attended to.</p> + +<p>"What is your name?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I am Robert Campbell."</p> + +<p>"Brother of David Campbell of San Francisco?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"He is as good a man as ever lived. I know him well."</p> + +<p>"Write and tell him his brother is dying—he will come to me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no! you are not dying. We will not bring him such a long journey. I +will stay with you, until you are better—but off the train you must +get."</p> + +<p>"Thank you! I will do as you say. I will pay you well."</p> + +<p>"I am not thinking of 'pay.' I know your brother, it is pay enough to +serve him, by helping you."</p> + +<p>Robert nodded and tried to smile. He put his hand into the doctor's +hand, went with him to a carriage, and they were driven to an hotel. +During the change, he did not speak, he had all that he could manage, to +keep himself erect and preserve his consciousness. But there are +mystically in our faces, certain characters, which carry in them the +motto of our souls; and the motto the doctor read on Robert's face +was—<i>No Surrender</i>. He told himself this, when he had got his patient +into bed, and surrounded him with darkness and stillness and given him a +sedative. "Some men would proceed to have brain fever," he mused, "but +not this man. He will fight off sickness, resent it, deny it, and rise +above it in a few days. I'll give him a week—but he will not succumb. +There's no surrender in that face, though it is white and thin with +suffering."</p> + +<p>For four days, however, Robert wavered between better and worse, as the +gusts of frantic remorse and despair assailed him. Then he forgot +everything but the irreparable mistake that had ruined his life, and +during the paroxysms whispered continually: "Oh, God! oh, God! that it +were possible to undo things done!" a whisper that could hardly be heard +by mortal ears, but which passed beyond the constellations, and reached +the ear and the heart of Him, who dwelleth in the Heaven of Heavens.</p> + +<p>It was in one of those awful encounters of the soul with itself, that he +reached the depth of suffering in which we see clearly; for there is no +such revealer as sorrow. Suddenly and swift as a flash of light, he knew +his past life, as he would know it in eternity—its selfishness, its +cruelty, its injustice. Then he heard words which pealed through his +soul, with heavenly-sweet convincingness, and left their echo forever +there. For awhile he remained motionless and speechless, and let the +comforting revelation fill him with adoring love and gratitude. And +those few minutes of pause and praise were not only sacrificial and +sacramental, they were strong with absolution. He knew what he must do; +he had not a doubt, not a reservation of any kind. In a space of time so +short that we have no measure for it, he had surrendered everything, and +been made worthy to receive everything.</p> + +<p>O, Mystery of Life, from what a depth proceed thy comforts and thy +lessons! Even the chance acquaintance had had his meaning, and had done +his work. Robert had some wonderful confidences with him, as he lay for +a week free of pain, and quietly gathering strength for the journey he +must take the moment he was able for it. He had no hesitation as to +this journey. He knew that he must go back to Theodora—back to the same +goal he had turned away from. Peradventure the blessing he had rejected +might yet be waiting there.</p> + +<p>In ten days Dr. Stuart permitted him to travel, and without pause or +regret he reached San Francisco, refreshed himself, and taking a +carriage drove out to the Newtons'. It was afternoon when he reached the +place, and it had the drowsy afternoon look and feeling. He sent the +carriage to the stable, and told the driver to wait there for further +orders—and then walked up to the house. As he passed Mr. Newton's study +he saw him sitting reading, and he opened the door and went in. The +preacher looked up in astonishment, rose and walked towards him.</p> + +<p>"Robert," he said softly, "is that you?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, father. I have been very ill. I have come back to ask your +forgiveness—and <i>hers</i>—if she will listen to me."</p> + +<p>"I am glad to see you. Sit down. You look ill—what can I do for you?"</p> + +<p>"Listen to me! I will tell you all."</p> + +<p>Then he opened his heart freely to the preacher, who listened with +intense sympathy and understanding—sometimes speaking a word of +encouragement, sometimes only touching his hand, or whispering, "Go on, +Robert." And perhaps there was not another man in California, so able to +comprehend the marvellous story of Robert's return unto his better self. +For he had in a large measure that penetrative insight into +spiritualities, which connect man with the unseen world; and that +mystical, incommunicable sense of a life, that is not this life. He knew +its voices, intuitions, and celestial intimations—things, which no one +knoweth, save they who receive them. And when Robert had finished his +confession, he said:</p> + +<p>"I also, Robert, have stood on that shining table-land which lies on the +frontier of our consciousness; and there received that blessed +<i>certainty of God</i> which can never again leave the soul. And you must +not wonder at the suddenness and rapidity of the vision. Every +experience of this kind <i>must</i> be sharply sudden. That chasm dividing +the seen from the unseen, must be taken at one swift bound, or not at +all. You cannot break that leap. Thank God, you have taken it! This +remembrance, and the power it has left behind, can never depart from +you; for</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'<i>Whoso has felt the Spirit of the Highest,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Cannot confound, nor doubt Him, nor deny.</i>'<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The whole world may deny, but what is the voice of the whole world to +those, who have <i>seen</i> and <i>heard</i> and <i>known</i></p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>'A deep below the deep,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>And a height beyond the height,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>Where our hearing is not hearing,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>And our seeing is not sight'?</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>What you have told me, Robert, also goes to confirm what I have before +noticed—that this great favor of vision is usually the cup of strength, +given to us in some great agony or strait."</p> + +<p>"Now, father, may I see Theodora?"</p> + +<p>"She went to her room to rest after our early dinner. She also has +suffered."</p> + +<p>"She is in the parlor. I hear her singing. Let us go to her."</p> + +<p>At the parlor door they stood a minute and listened to the music. It was +strong and clear, and her voice held both the sorrow and the hope that +was in her heart:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"<i>My heart is dashed with cares and fears,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>My song comes fluttering and is gone,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>But high above this home of tears</i><br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Eternal Joy sings on—sings on!</i>"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The last strain was a triumphant one, and to its joy they entered. Then +Theodora's face was transfigured, she came swiftly towards them, and Mr. +Newton laid her hand in Robert's hand, and so left them. And into the +love and wonder and thanksgiving of that conversation we cannot enter; +no, not even with the sweetest and clearest imagination.</p> + +<p>In a couple of hours David came, and Robert joined his father and +brother, and Theodora went to assist her mother in preparing the evening +meal. She found her standing by an open window, wringing her thin, small +hands, and silently weeping.</p> + +<p>"Mother, mother!" cried Theodora, clasping her in her strong arms; "why +are you weeping?"</p> + +<p>"It is that man here again," Mrs. Newton faltered. "I thought that +trouble was over. I can bear no more of it, dear."</p> + +<p>"He will never give you another moment's grief, dear mother. He is +totally changed. He has had an experience; he has been what we +call—converted—mother."</p> + +<p>"Do you believe that?"</p> + +<p>"With all my soul! He has given up everything that made sin and +trouble."</p> + +<p>"Then all is well. I am satisfied."</p> + +<p>"Robert will not be happy until you have welcomed him."</p> + +<p>"Then I will go and do so."</p> + +<p>That evening as they sat together David said: "Father and mother, I wish +to speak for my brother and myself. We are going into a business +partnership, as soon as Robert has been to Glasgow, and turned all his +property into cash. Whatever he is worth, I will double, and 'Campbell +Brothers, Bankers,' I believe, will soon become an important factor in +the financial world of San Francisco."</p> + +<p>"It is a good thing, David. You two working as one will be a multitude. +No one knows the financial conditions here better than you do, David, +and as an investor, I do not believe you have ever made a mistake."</p> + +<p>"I think not, father. Well, then, we will all go into San Francisco as +soon as Robert has rested a little, and select a home for him. I know +of two houses for sale, either of which would be suitable."</p> + +<p>"And when the house is chosen," said Robert, "I hope, mother, you will +assist Theodora in furnishing it just as she wishes, keeping her in +mind, however, that she must be quite extravagant. Simplicity and +economy are out of place in a banker's home, for entertaining on a large +scale will have to be done."</p> + +<p>It was arranged that David should go East with Robert, and see him +safely on board a good liner, and the details of these projects occupied +the family happily for three days; at the end of which they went to San +Francisco. When Theodora's future home had been selected, David and +Robert took the train for New York; the whole family sending them off +with smiles and blessings. And Robert thought of his previous leaving, +and was unspeakably happy and grateful.</p> + +<p>On their journey to New York, the brothers settled every detail of their +banking business, and Robert was amazed at his brother's financial +instinct and business enterprise. "We shall make a great deal of money, +Robert," he said, "and we must do a great deal of good with it. I have +some ideas on that subject which we will talk over at the proper time."</p> + +<p>So the journey was not tiresome, and when it was over, both were a +little sorry. But work was to do, and Robert knew that he would be +restless until he had finished his preparations for his new life, and +got rid of all encumbrances of the past.</p> + +<p>The sea journey was short and pleasant, and it removed the most evident +traces of his illness. His face was thinner, but that was an +improvement; and his figure, if more slender was more active, and there +was about him the light and aura of one who is thoroughly happy, and at +peace with God and man.</p> + +<p>As soon as he arrived in Glasgow, he went to his club, and looked over +the accumulation of letters waiting him. It was raining steadily—that +summer rain which we feel to be so particularly unwanted. The streets +were sloppy, the air damp, the sky dull, and not brightened by the +occasional glints of pale sunshine; but when he had relieved his mind of +its most pressing business, he went to Traquair House. Jepson opened the +door for him, but the man looked ill, and said he was on the point of +leaving Glasgow. Robert could now sympathize with him, for he had +learned the agony of constant headache, and he said so. The man looked +at him in amazement, and he told McNab of the circumstance, adding: "The +master was never so kind to me in all his life, as he was to-day." McNab +answered curtly:</p> + +<p>"No wonder! He has been living wi' decent folk lately, and decency +tells. Them Californians are the civilest o' mortals. You'll mind my ain +lad, that was here about four years syne?"</p> + +<p>"I'll never forget him, Mistress McNab. A perfect gentleman."</p> + +<p>"Weel, he was, in a way, a Californian—born, of course, in Scotland, +but knocked about among the Californians, until he learned how to behave +himsel' to rich and poor and auld and young, and special to women and +bairns."</p> + +<p>While this conversation was going on Robert sat in the old dining-room. +It was dismal enough at all times, especially so in rainy weather, and +more specially so when it was summer rain, and no blazing fire +brightened the dark mahogany and the crimson draperies.</p> + +<p>His mother was at home, but he was told Christina was occupying the +little villa he had bought at Inverkip. He had not been asked for its +use, and it contained a good deal of Theodora's needlework, and much +summer clothing. For a few minutes he was angry, but he quickly reasoned +his anger away. "There are no happy memories about any of the things. It +is better they should not come into our future life," he said to +himself. He wondered his mother did not come, and asked Jepson if she +had been told. "Yes, she had been told, and had sent word 'she would be +down as soon as dressed.'"</p> + +<p>It was an hour before she was dressed, and Robert felt the gloom and +chill of waiting. Indeed, he was so uncomfortably cold, that he asked +for a fire, and was standing before it enjoying its blaze and warmth +when Mrs. Campbell entered.</p> + +<p>"Good gracious, Robert!" she cried, "a fire in August! I never heard +tell of such a thing."</p> + +<p>"I am just from a warm, sunny country, mother, and I have also been ill, +and so I feel the cold."</p> + +<p>"Well, well! Put a screen between me and the blaze. I am not auld enou' +yet, to require a blaze in August."</p> + +<p>"To-morrow, it will be the first of September. How are you, mother?"</p> + +<p>"Fine. That foolish fellow you left over the works came here—came +special, mind ye—to tell me you were vera ill. He said he had received +a letter from a Dr. Stuart, living in a place called Denver, saying you +were at Death's door, or words to that effect; but I sent him back to +his proper business wi' a solid rebuke for leaving it. I'm not the woman +to thank any one for bringing me bad news—lies, too, very likely."</p> + +<p>"No, I was very ill."</p> + +<p>"Say so, where was there any necessity for the man to be sending word o' +it half round the world? Nobody here could help. It was just making +discomfort for no good at all."</p> + +<p>"I suppose he thought, if I died, my friends might possibly like to know +what had become of me."</p> + +<p>"I wasna feared for you dying. Not I! I knew Robert Campbell had mair +sense than to die among strangers. Then there was the works left to +themselves, as it were, and that weary woman you've been seeking mair +than four years, just found out, and I said to myself, if I know Robert +Campbell, he won't be stravaganting to another world, whilst his affairs +in this world are all helter-skelter."</p> + +<p>"I have come here to put my affairs as I desire them. Then I am going +back to California."</p> + +<p>"I do not believe you. You are just leeing to me."</p> + +<p>"Mother, I am going to sell the works. I want to live in California."</p> + +<p>"To please Theodora," she said scornfully.</p> + +<p>"To please Theodora and myself. I like the country; it is sunny and +delightful, and the people are wonderfully gracious and kind."</p> + +<p>"Of course, they have to be more than ordinary civil, or what decent +people would live among the crowd that went there?"</p> + +<p>"That element has disappeared. There are no finer men and women in the +world than the Californians. I shall ask for citizenship among them."</p> + +<p>Then the temper she had been trying to control broke loose, and carried +all before it. "You base fellow!" she cried, "you traitor to all good! +You are unworthy of the country, the home, and the business you desert. +I am ashamed to have brought you into the world. To surrender everything +for a creature like your runaway wife is monstrously wicked—is +incredibly shameful!"</p> + +<p>"If I could surrender more for Theodora, I would gladly do it, so that I +might atone for what I, and you, made her suffer. And she has not taken +me to California—you drove her there."</p> + +<p>"I'm gey glad I did."</p> + +<p>"And as she will not come back here, I must go to her there. Your own +work, mother."</p> + +<p>"Very good. I accept it. I'm proud o' it."</p> + +<p>"My dear mother——"</p> + +<p>"Stop palavering! You can cut out 'dear.'"</p> + +<p>"Let us talk reasonably. I came here to ask whether you will remain a +shareholder in the works, or withdraw your money?"</p> + +<p>"I'll withdraw every bawbee out o' them. Your sisters can do as they +like. And may I ask, what you are going to do? Become a miner, and carry +a pick and a dinner-pail? That would be a proper ending for Robert +Campbell."</p> + +<p>"I am going to join my brother David in a banking business in San +Francisco."</p> + +<p>"Your brother David! Your brother David! So he is in California, too? +<i>Dod!</i> I might have known it—the very place for the like o' him."</p> + +<p>"He is one of the princes of Californian finance. He dwells in a palace. +He is worth many millions of dollars."</p> + +<p>"<i>Dollars!</i>" and she spit the word out of her mouth with inexpressible +scorn—"dollars! what kind o' money is that? I wouldn't gie you a copper +half-penny for your dollar."</p> + +<p>"A dollar is worth just one hundred half-pennies."</p> + +<p>"I'm not believing you. Why should I? And pray how did you foregather +wi' your runawa' brother?"</p> + +<p>"He is Theodora's neighbor, and she is educating his daughters."</p> + +<p>"And pray how did Dora happen on your brother? It is a vera singular +coincidence, and I am no believer in coincidences. If the truth were +known, they have all o' them been carefully planned, and weel +arranged."</p> + +<p>"She met my brother here in Glasgow."</p> + +<p>"She did nothing o' the kind."</p> + +<p>"She met him at the Oliphants'."</p> + +<p>"Oh, oh! I see, I see! The dark man so often riding about wi' Mistress +Oliphant was your brother?"</p> + +<p>"He was my brother David, and he was also McNab's foster-son."</p> + +<p>"Great heavens! What a fool Margaret Campbell has been for once! To +think o' Flora McNab making a mock o' me. She told me he was her son."</p> + +<p>"So he was, in a way. McNab suckled him, and mothered him, as well as +she could. She was the only mother he had."</p> + +<p>"You lie, Robert Campbell. I was his mother."</p> + +<p>"You ought to be proud of it."</p> + +<p>"Is his wife alive or dead?"</p> + +<p>"She is dead. He will marry again soon."</p> + +<p>"Some of the Oliphant kin, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"No. She is not a Scotchwoman."</p> + +<p>"I hope to goodness she isn't English."</p> + +<p>"She is Spanish-American, a great beauty, and almost as rich as David +himself."</p> + +<p>"<i>Humph!</i> I am believing no such fairy-tale. Why would a rich beauty be +wanting David Campbell?"</p> + +<p>"David is a very handsome man."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Oliphant seemed to think so!"</p> + +<p>"Every one thinks so."</p> + +<p>"I hope she is not a Methodist."</p> + +<p>"She is a Roman Catholic."</p> + +<p>"A Roman Catholic! A Campbell can get no further downward than that. +Your forefathers fought—and, thank God, mostly killed—a Roman Catholic +on sight. Ah weel, I suppose it is the money."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no! David would not marry for money."</p> + +<p>"He didn't anyhow. He married a poor, plain, beggarly sewing-girl."</p> + +<p>"She was a minister's daughter, and he loved her."</p> + +<p>"Weel, Robert Campbell, I hope you have emptied your creel o' bad news. +If you have any more tak' it back to where it came from. I'll not listen +to another word from you."</p> + +<p>"I must ask you, what you wish about this house? If you desire to remain +here, I will not sell it."</p> + +<p>"I'll not stop in it, any longer than it takes me to move out o' it. You +are no kin to me now, and thank God, I am not come to a dependence on a +Scotch turncoat, or even an American citizen!"</p> + +<p>"Do you think Christina would like the use o' it?"</p> + +<p>"Christina is doing better. Rathey is going to be man-of-law and private +secretary to Sir Thomas, and they are to have the Wynton Dower House to +live in, a handsome place in a big garden."</p> + +<p>"Will you go with her, mother?"</p> + +<p>"It is none of your business where I go. I would not ask a shelter from +you, if I were going to the poor-house. I am going where I'll be rid of +whimpering wives, and whining bairns, and fleeching, flattering folk, +who want siller for their fine words. I'm done with the old, unhappy +house. Sell it as soon as you like. It was an ill day when I stepped +o'er its threshold."</p> + +<p>"Then good-bye, mother. Say a kind word to me. We may meet no more in +this world." He advanced towards her and put out his hand.</p> + +<p>She rose and lifted her solitaire pack of cards—which was lying on the +table by which she stood—and began shuffling them in her hands. "You +ungrateful son of your mother Scotland and your mother Campbell!" she +cried. "You traitor to every obligation due your family! You slave to a +Methodist wife, go to your Papist-loving brother. California is a proper +home for you. <i>Dod!</i> I am sick of the whole lot o' you—lads and lassies +baith—Isabel is o'er much 'my lady' for any sensible body to thole; and +Christina is aye sniffling and worrying about her bairns, or her silly, +fiddling husband. I am sick, tired—heart and soul tired—o' the serpent +brood o' you Campbells; and you may scatter yoursel's o'er the face o' +the whole earth, for aught I care," and with these words she flung the +cards in her hand far and wide, over the large room. She was in an +incredible passion, and Robert put his hand on her arms, crying in +terror and amazement:</p> + +<p>"Mother! Mother! Mother! For God's sake I entreat——"</p> + +<p>"Out o' my sight instanter!" she answered. "Scotland and Margaret +Campbell is weel rid o' the like o' you." She shook off his restraining +hands, and clasping her own behind her back, she went to a window and +stood there looking far over the dull, wet street to some vision +conjured up by her raging, scornful passion.</p> + +<p>Robert again approached her. "I am going, mother," he said. "God forgive +us both! Farewell!" and he once more offered her a pleading hand. She +looked at it a moment, but kept her own resolutely clasped behind her, +and finally with an imperative motion uttered one fierce word:</p> + +<p>"<i>Go!</i>"</p> + +<p>She was still at the window when he reached the sidewalk, and he raised +his hat, and looked at her as he passed. But her gaze was intentionally +far off, and if she saw this last act of entreaty, she was beyond the +wish, or even the ability to notice it.</p> + +<p>Robert was very miserable, so much so that he forgot to write to +Theodora, and when he awoke after a restless night and remembered the +omission he said with a sigh: "Theodora is right. It must be everything +or nothing. If I could get her to come back here, it would be the old +trouble over again—and worse."</p> + +<p>That day he went to the Wyntons', and talked with Sir Thomas about the +sale of the works. He was in hopes that he could form a syndicate, buy +the works, and make himself president. And at first the baronet was +enthusiastic about the scheme, but day after day, and week after week +went on, and nothing definite was arrived at. Isabel had strong family +feeling, and she was sullenly silent about the sale of the furnaces, and +her brother's settlement in America. The works had done so well under +Robert's direction, that her income had been nearly doubled, and she +thought that he ought to continue his labor, where Providence had +enabled him to do so well for the family. Finally, Robert abandoned the +Wynton scheme, and went to Sheffield to see his old business friend +Priestley. The visit was destined and propitious, and in three weeks the +transfer of the Campbell Iron Works to a Yorkshire iron company was +completed, and Robert was ready to return home.</p> + +<p>He was glad of it. His visit had been a painful and separating one. His +sisters had disappointed him. He was sure Isabel had prevented her +husband's desire to buy the works, and she had let him feel, in her +cold, silent way, that she disapproved of his selling them, and still +more disapproved of his settlement in America. And the selfish little +soul of Christina complained constantly of Robert leaving her money in +strange hands. She thought it was his duty to stay in Glasgow and manage +the works for his mother's and sisters' benefit; and when the sisters +talked of the matter together, they expressed themselves very plainly +about that "Englishwoman who had been so unfortunate to their house."</p> + +<p>Robert went from Sheffield to Liverpool, and did not return to Glasgow. +He was glad and grateful to set his face westward and homeward. Nothing +of importance happened on the journey, and when he reached San Francisco +his brother David was waiting at the railway depot to welcome him. They +clasped hands and looked into each other's eyes, and everything was well +said that words would have said clumsily. It was then nearly dark, and +they went to the hotel for the night. Far into the midnight hours they +sat discussing their business future, and David was astonished at the +fortune which Robert had made out of the old works. And Robert was still +more astonished at the fortune which his brother had made out of his +relatively small capital, and his own business sagacity and native +industry and prudence.</p> + +<p>In the early morning David wished his brother to go and look over the +new home which Theodora had been preparing, but Robert said he wanted to +see Theodora above all things, and would go at once out to the Newtons'.</p> + +<p>"Very good," replied David, "then you will go alone, for I am to bring +Mercedes with me, and I cannot call for her before ten. It is a charming +thing, Robert, that Mercedes and Theodora love each other dearly. They +have worked together constantly over your new home, and made it a lovely +place. I suppose you will be married this afternoon."</p> + +<p>"Married! Married! Does Theodora expect it?"</p> + +<p>"I think all preparations are made for the little ceremony. I would not +disapprove, if I were you, Robert."</p> + +<p>"Disapprove! What do you mean? I shall be the most joyful man in the +world."</p> + +<p>Breakfast was scarcely over when Robert reached Newton Place; and +Theodora came running to meet him with a large apron over her pretty +white dress. But oh, how beautiful was her beaming, smiling face, how +tender her embrace, how sweet the loving words with which she welcomed +him. He was paid, and overpaid, for all he had suffered, and all he had +resigned.</p> + +<p>"We shall be married this afternoon, eh darling?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"All shall be as you wish, my love. I am ready," she answered.</p> + +<p>Such a delightful morning! Such a happy hurry in the house! Such sweet +laughter, and pleasant calling of each other's names! Such enthusiasm +over Mercedes' beauty in her pink satin costume! Such an enjoyable +little lunch at one o'clock! Such a bewildering number of pleasant +events crowded into a few hours. If ever there was in any earthly home a +sense of heavenly love and joy, it was in the Newton house that day. +Angels might—and probably did—rest in the flower-scented atmosphere of +its spotless rooms, for if angels rejoice with the sinner forgiven and +accepted, surely still more will they rejoice in the fruition of tried +and accepted love, and in the unselfish affection of those who rejoice, +because others rejoice.</p> + +<p>Just before three o'clock Mr. and Mrs. Newton went together to the +parlor and sat down by a small table covered with a white cloth, on +which there lay a Bible and a Book of Common Prayer. A few minutes later +David and Robert came in, and stood talking to them, until the door +opened and Theodora and Mercedes entered. Then Mr. Newton stood up, and +Robert and Theodora stood before him, and renewed their marriage vows in +the most solemn and simple manner. There were no decorations, no music, +no attendants, no company, nothing but a prayer, and the old, old ritual +of a thousand years. But after it Mr. Newton told them in a few +sentences, how supremely important love is to the soul.</p> + +<p>"It perishes without love," he said. "To the soul love is blessing, love +is salvation, love is the guardian angel, and without love the +centrifugal law easily overpowers and sweeps it far out from its divine +source, towards the cold frontiers of the material and the manifold."</p> + +<p>Then there was a tender and cheerful good-bye, and Robert and Theodora +went to their new home. They wandered hand in hand through all its +beautiful rooms, and through the scented walks of its fair garden, and +Robert said: "It is a palace in Paradise, darling."</p> + +<p>"And I am so happy! So proud, and so happy, dear Robert!" she answered.</p> + +<p>After a perfect dinner at their own table, Robert went to his wife's +parlor to smoke his cigar, and then he told her all about his last +unhappy visit to his family, and his native land.</p> + +<p>It was the necessary minor note in their joyful wedding song, but it +soon returned to its triumphant dominant, since they must needs rejoice +in that loving Power which had so surely "tempered all things well,"</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"<i>Had worked their pleasure out of pain,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>And out of ruin golden gain.</i>"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And as they talked in the splendid room, with its sweet odors and dim +light, their voices grew lower, and they were content to whisper each +other's names, and fall into sweet silences, thrilled with such soft +stir, as angels in their cloud-girt wayfarings know, when they "feel the +breath of kindred plumes." And thus,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"<i>The tumult of the time disconsolate,</i><br /></span> +<span class="i0"><i>To inarticulate murmurs died away.</i>"<br /></span> +</div></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="OTHER_BOOKS_BY_MRS_BARR" id="OTHER_BOOKS_BY_MRS_BARR"></a>OTHER BOOKS BY MRS. BARR</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Jan Vedder's Wife</span><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The Bow of Orange Ribbon</span><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Remember the Alamo</span><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Friend Olivia</span><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">A Rose of a Hundred Leaves</span><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The Lion's Whelp</span><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The Black Shilling</span><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The Belle of Bowling Green</span><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Cecilia's Lovers</span><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The Heart of Jessy Laurie</span><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The Strawberry Handkerchief</span><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The Hands of Compulsion</span><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">The House on Cherry Street</span><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">ETC.</span><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A RECONSTRUCTED MARRIAGE***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 36490-h.txt or 36490-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/6/4/9/36490">http://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/4/9/36490</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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P. Nikolaki + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: A Reconstructed Marriage + + +Author: Amelia Edith Huddleston Barr + + + +Release Date: June 21, 2011 [eBook #36490] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A RECONSTRUCTED MARRIAGE*** + + +E-text prepared by Katherine Ward, Mary Meehan, and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) from page images generously made +available by Internet Archive/American Libraries +(http://www.archive.org/details/americana) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustration. + See 36490-h.htm or 36490-h.zip: + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/36490/36490-h/36490-h.htm) + or + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/36490/36490-h.zip) + + + Images of the original pages are available through + Internet Archive/American Libraries. See + http://www.archive.org/details/reconstructedmarr00barriala + + + + + +A RECONSTRUCTED MARRIAGE + +by + +AMELIA E. BARR + +Frontispiece by Z. P. Nikolaki + + + + + + + +New York +Dodd, Mead and Company +1910 + +Copyright, 1910, by +Dodd, Mead and Company + +Published, October, 1910 + +The Quinn & Boden Co. Press +Rahway, N.J. + + + + + TO + MY DEAR FRIEND + MRS. HARRY LEE + THIS BOOK + IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED + + + + + +CONTENTS + + + I A PROSPECTIVE MOTHER-IN-LAW + + II PREPARING FOR THE BRIDE + + III THE BRIDE'S HOMECOMING + + IV FOES IN THE HOUSEHOLD + + V BAD AT BEST + + VI THE NAMING OF THE CHILD + + VII THE NEW CHRISTINA + + VIII A RUNAWAY BRIDE + + IX THE LAST STRAW + + X THEODORA MAKES A NEW LIFE + + XI CHRISTINA AND ISABEL + + XII ROBERT CAMPBELL GOES WOOING + + XIII THE RECONSTRUCTED MARRIAGE + + + + +A RECONSTRUCTED MARRIAGE + + + + +CHAPTER I + +A PROSPECTIVE MOTHER-IN-LAW + + +As it was Saturday morning, Mrs. Traquair Campbell was examining her +weekly accounts and clearing off her week's correspondence; for she +found it necessary to her enjoyment of the Sabbath Day that her mind +should be free from all worldly obligations. This was one of the +inviolable laws of Traquair House, enunciated so frequently and so +positively by its mistress, that it was seldom violated in any way. + +It was therefore with fear and uncertainty that Miss Campbell ventured +to break this rule, and to open softly the door of her mother's room. No +notice was taken of the intruder for a few moments, but her presence +proving disastrous to the total of a line of figures which Mrs. Campbell +was adding, she looked up with visible annoyance and asked: + +"What do you want, Isabel? You are disturbing me very much, and you know +it." + +"I beg pardon, mother, but I think the occasion will excuse me." + +"What is the occasion?" + +"There is something in my brother's room that I feel sure you ought to +see." + +"Could you not have waited until I had finished my work here?" + +"No, mother. It is Saturday, and Robert may be home by an early train. I +think he will, for he is apparently going to England." + +"Going to England, so near the Sabbath? Impossible! What set your +thoughts on that track?" + +"His valise is packed, and directed to Sheffield; but I think he will +stop at a town called Kendal. He may go to Sheffield afterwards, of +course." + +"Kendal! Where is Kendal? I never heard of the place. What do you know +about it?" + +"Nothing at all. But in going over the mail, I noticed that four letters +with the Kendal post-office stamp came to Robert this week. They were +all addressed in the same handwriting--a woman's." + +"Isabel Campbell!" + +"It is the truth, mother." + +"Why did you not name this singular circumstance before?" + +"It was not my affair. Robert would likely have been angry at my +noticing his letters. I have no right to interfere in his life. You +have--if it seems best to do so." + +"Have you told me all?" + +"No, mother." + +"What else?" + +"There is on his dressing table, loosely folded in tissue paper, an +exquisite Bible." + +"Very good. Robert cannot have The Word too exquisitely bound." + +"I do not think Robert intends this copy of the Word for his own use. +No, indeed!" + +"Why should you think different?" + +"It is bound in purple velvet. The corner pieces are of gold, and a +little gold plate on the cover has engraved upon it the word _Theodora_. +Can you imagine Robert Traquair Campbell using a Bible like that? It +would be remarked by every one in the church. I am sure of it." + +Mrs. Campbell had dropped her pencil and had quite forgotten her +accounts and letters. Her hard, handsome face was flushed with anger, +her tawny-colored eyes full of calculating mischief, as she demanded +with scornful passion: + +"What is your opinion, Isabel?" + +"I can only have one opinion, mother. You know on what occasion a young +man gives such a Bible. I am compelled to believe that Robert is engaged +to marry some woman called Theodora, who lives probably at Kendal." + +"He can not! He shall not! He must marry Jane Dalkeith,--Jane, and no +other woman. I will not permit him to bring a stranger here, and an +Englishwoman is out of all consideration. _Theodora, indeed! Theodora!_" +and she flung the three words from her with a scorn no language could +transcribe. + +"It is not a Scotch name, mother. I never knew any one called +Theodora." + +"Scotch? the idea! Does it sound like Scotch? No, not a letter of it. +There were never any Theodoras among the Traquairs, or the Campbells, +and I will not have any. Robert will find that out very quickly. Why, +Isabel, Honor is before Love, and Honor compels Robert to marry Jane +Dalkeith. Her father saved Robert's father from utter ruin, and I +believe Jane holds some claim yet upon the Campbell furnaces. It has +always been understood that Robert and Jane would marry, and I am sure +the poor, dear girl loves Robert." + +"I do not believe, mother, that Jane could love any one but herself; and +I feel sure that if the Campbells owed her money, she would have +collected it long ago. Why do you not ask Robert about the money? He +will know if anything is owing." + +"Because Scotch men resent women asking questions about their business. +They will not answer them truly; often they will not answer them at +all." + +"Ask Jane Dalkeith herself." + +"Indeed, I will not. When you are as old as I am, you will have learned +to let sleeping dogs lie." + +"Will you go and look at the Bible?" + +"It is not likely I will be so foolish. Surely you do not require to be +told that Robert left it there for that purpose. He has his defence +ready on the supposition that I will ask him about this Theodora. On the +contrary, he shall bring the whole tale to me, beginning and end, and I +shall make the telling of it as difficult and disagreeable as possible." + +"I am afraid I have interfered with your Saturday's duties, mother; but +I thought you ought to know." + +"As mother and mistress I ought to know all that concerns either the +family or Traquair House. I will now finish my examinations and +correspondence. And Isabel, when Robert comes home, ask him no +questions, and give him no hint as to what has been discovered. I am +very angry at him. He ought to have told me about the woman at the very +beginning of the affair; and I should have put a stop to it at once. It +might have been more easily managed then than it will be now." + +"Can you put a stop to it at all, mother?" + +"Can I put a stop to it?" she cried scornfully. "I can, and I will!" + +"Robert is a very determined man." + +"And I am a very positive woman. At the last and the long, in any +dispute, the woman wins." + +"Sometimes the man wins." + +"Nonsense! If he does win now and then, it is always a barren victory. +He loses more than he gains." + +"I don't wish to discourage you, mother, but Robert is gey stubborn, and +I feel sure that in this case he will take his own way, and no other +person's way." + +"I desire you not to contradict me, Isabel." She turned to her papers, +lifted her pencil, and to all appearance was entirely occupied by her +bills and letters. Isabel gave her one strange, inexplicable look ere +she left the room, shutting the door this time without regard to noise +and with something very like temper. + +In the corridor she hesitated, standing with one foot ready to descend +the stairs, but urged by a variety of feelings to take the upward flight +which led to her own and her sister Christina's rooms. At present she +was "out" with Christina, and they had not spoken to each other, when +alone, for three days. But now the pleasure of having something new and +unusual to tell, the desire to talk it over, and perhaps also a modest +little wish to be friends with her sister, who was her chief confidant +and ally, induced her to seek Christina in her room. + +She knocked gently at the door, and Christina said in an imperative +voice, "Come in." She thought it was one of the maids, and Christina +wasted no politeness on any one, unless manifestly to her own interest +or pleasure. But Isabel understood the curt permission was not intended +for her, and, opening the door, went into the room. Christina, who was +reading, lifted her eyes and then dropped them again to the book. For +she was amazed at her sister's visit, and knew not what to say, priority +of birth being in English and Scotch families of some consequence. In +their numerous disagreements Christina had never expected Isabel to make +the first advances towards reconciliation. Almost without exception she +had been the one to apologize, and she had been thinking about ending +their present trouble when Isabel visited her. + +For a few minutes she was undecided, but as Isabel took a comfortable +chair and was evidently going to remain, Christina realized that her +elder sister had made a silent advance, and that she was expected to +speak first. So she laid down her book, and pushing a stool under +Isabel's feet, said in a fretful, worried voice: + +"I am so glad to see you, sister. I have been very unhappy without your +company. You know I have no friend but you. I am sorry I spoke rudely to +you. Forgive me!" + +"Christina, we are the world to each other. No one else seems to care +anything about us, and it is foolish to quarrel." + +"It was my fault, Isabel. I ought to have known you were not wearing my +collar intentionally." + +"Why should I? I have plenty of collars of my own. But we will not go +into explanations. It is better to agree to forget the circumstance." + +"Life is so lonely without you, and our little chats with each other are +the only pleasure I have. I wonder if there is, in all Glasgow, a house +so dull as this house is." + +"It will soon be busy and gay enough. Things are going to be very +different in Traquair House. They may not effect our lives much--it is +too late for that, Christina--but we shall have the fun of watching the +rows there are sure to be with mother. Bring your chair near to me. I +have a great secret to tell you." + +As they sat down together it was impossible to avoid noticing how much +they resembled each other personally. Nature had intended both of them +to be beautiful, but their obtuse, grieved faces had been marred in +early years by the disappointments, sorrows, and tragic mistakes of the +children of long ago; and later by their pathetic acquiescence in their +ill-assorted fates, and the cruel certainty of youth gone forever, +without the knowledge of youth's delights. Isabel was now thirty-three +years old, and Christina twenty-eight, and on their dark faces, and in +their sombre, black eyes, there was a resentful gloom; the shadow of +lives that felt themselves to be blighted beyond the power of any good +fortune to redeem. + +The two sisters had lost hope early, and for this weakness they were +partly excusable, since they had the most crushing and unsympathetic of +mothers. Mrs. Campbell was a woman of iron constitution, iron nerves, +and principles of steel. She was never sick, and she was angry if her +children were sick; she met every trouble with fight, she was +contemptuous to those who wept; she was never weary, but she made life a +burden to all under her sway. + +In another way their father had been still more unfortunate to them. +Intensely vain and arrogant, he had inherited a large business which he +had not had the ability or the intelligence to manage. When he had +nearly ruined it, the generosity of a distant relative--jealous for the +honor of the name--came to the rescue; but he placed over all other +authority a manager who knew what he was doing, and who was amenable to +advice. Then Traquair Campbell, unwilling to acknowledge any superior, +became a semi-invalid; and retired to a seclusion which had no other +duty than the indulgence of his every whim and desire, making his two +daughters the handmaids of his idle, self-centred hours. Year after year +this slavery continued, and their youth, beauty, and education, their +hopes, pleasures, and even their friends, were all demanded in sacrifice +to that dreadful incarnation of Self, who made filial duty his claim on +them. It was scarcely two years since they had been emancipated by his +death, and the terror of the past and the shadow of it was yet over +them. + +Such treatment would have soured even good dispositions, but the nature +of both these girls was as awry by inheritance, as their destiny in +regard to parental influence and environment had been tragically +unfortunate. Only the loftiest or the sweetest of spirits could have +dominated the evil influences by which they were surrounded, and turned +them into healthy and happy ones. And neither Isabel nor Christina knew +the uplifting of a lofty ideal, nor yet the gentle power of the soft +word and the loving smile. + +Sitting close together and moved by the same feelings, their physical +resemblance was remarkable. As before said, Nature had intended them to +be beautiful. Their features were regular, their hair abundant, their +eyes dark and well formed, their figures tall and slender, but they +lacked those small accessories to beauty without which it appears crude +and undeveloped. Their faces were dull and uninteresting for want of +that interior light of the soul and intellect without which "the human +face divine" is not divine--is indeed only flesh and blood. Their +abundant hair was badly cared for, and not becomingly arranged; their +figures, in spite of tight lacing, badly managed and ungracefully +clothed; their eyes, though dark and long-lashed, carried no +illumination and were only expressive of evil or bitter emotions; they +knew not either the languors or the sweet lights of love or pity. Isabel +and Christina had slipped about sick rooms too much; and they had been +too little in the busy world to estimate themselves by comparison with +others, and so find out their deficiencies. + +This morning their likeness to each other was accentuated by the fact +that they were dressed exactly alike in dark brown merino, with a narrow +band of white linen round their throats. Each had fastened the linen +band with a gold brooch of the same pattern, and both wore a small Swiss +watch pinned on her plain, tight waist. + +Isabel reclined in her chair, and as she knew all there was to know at +present, a faint smile of satisfaction was on her face. Christina sat +upright, with an almost childish expression of expectation. + +"What do you know, Isabel?" she asked impatiently. "How, or why, are +things going to be different in Traquair House?" + +"Because there is to be a marriage in the family." + +"A marriage! Is it mother? Old lawyer Galt has been very attentive +lately." + +"No, it is not mother." + +"Then it is Robert?" + +Isabel nodded assent. + +Christina's eyes filled with a dull, angry glow, and there were tears in +her voice, as she cried: + +"If that is so, Isabel, I will leave Traquair House. I will not live +with Jane Dalkeith. She is worse than mother. She would count every +mouthful we ate, and make remarks as nasty as herself." + +"Exactly. That would be Jane's way; but I am led to believe Robert will +never marry Jane Dalkeith." + +"Who then is he going to marry? I never heard of Robert paying attention +to any girl." + +"I have found out the person he is paying attention to." + +"Who is it, Isabel? Tell me. I will never mention the circumstance." + +"Her name is Theodora." + +"What a queer name--Miss Theodora. Do you know, it sounds like a +Christian name; it surely can not be a surname." + +"You are right. I do not know her surname." + +"How did you find it out--I mean Robert's love affair?" + +Isabel described the discovery of the velvet-bound Bible while Christina +listened with greedy interest. "You know, Christina," she added, "that a +young man on his engagement always gives the girl a Bible." + +"Yes, I know; even servant girls get a Bible when they are engaged. Our +Maggie and Kitty did; they showed them to me. Do the men swear their +love and promises on them?" + +"I should not wonder. If so, a great many are soon forsworn!" + +"Is that all you know, Isabel?" + +"Four times this week she has written to Robert. I saw the letters in +the mail." + +"Love letters, I suppose?" + +"No doubt of it." + +"How immodest! Do you know where she lives?" + +"At a town called Kendal." + +"I never heard of the place. Is it near Motherwell? Robert often goes to +Motherwell." + +"It is in England." + +"Oh, Isabel, you frighten me! An Englishwoman! Whatever will mother say? +How could Robert think of such a dreadful thing! What shall we do?" + +"I see no occasion for us either to say or to do. There will be some +grand set-tos between mother and Robert. We may get some amusement out +of them." + +"Mother will insist on Robert giving up the Englishwoman. She will make +him do it." + +"I do not think she will be able. Mind what I say." + +"Robert has been under mother all his life." + +"That is so, but he will make a stand about this Theodora, and mother +will have to give in. He is now master of the works, and you will see +that he will be master of the house also. He will take possession of +himself, and everything else. I fancy we shall all find more changes +than we can imagine." + +"I don't care if we do! Anything for a change. I am almost weary of my +life. Nothing ever happens in it." + +"Plenty will happen soon. Robert has a way of his own, and that will be +seen and heard tell of." + +"He will not dare to counter mother very much. She will talk strict and +positive, and hold her head as high as a hen drinking water. You know +how she talks and acts." + +"I know also how Robert will take her talking. I have seen Robert's way +twice lately." + +"What is his way?" + +"A dour, cold silence, worse than any words--a silence that minds you of +a black frost." + +Having finished her story Isabel looked at her watch, and said: "I'll be +going now, Christina, and you can think over what is coming. We be to +consider ourselves in any change. I am almost sure Robert will be home +to-day at one o'clock, for if I am not mistaken, it will be the +Caledonian Railway Station at three o'clock. That train will land him in +Kendal about eight o'clock, just in time to drink a cup of tea with +Theodora, and have a stroll after it. There is a full moon to-night." + +"How did you find out about Kendal?" + +"Bradshaw; I suppose he knows." + +"Of course, but it will be late Saturday night when Robert arrives, and +surely he will not think of making love so near the Sabbath Day. I would +not believe that of him, however much he likes Theodora." + +"A handsome young Master of Iron Works can make love any day he pleases; +even Scotchwomen would listen gladly to what he had to say. I think I +would myself." + +"I would, but it might be wrong, Isabel." + +"I don't believe it would; anyway I would risk it." + +"So would I; but neither of us will be led into the temptation." + +"I fear not. Now I will be stepping downstairs. I have no more to say at +present and I should not like to miss Robert." + +"We are friends again, Isabel?" + +"We are aye friends, Christina. Whiles, there is a shadow between us, +but it is only a shadow--nothing to it but what a word puts right. There +is the lunch bell." + +"I had no idea it was so late." + +"Let us go down together. I hate the servants to be whispering and +snickering anent our little terrivees." + +They had scarcely seated themselves at the table when Robert entered the +room. He was a typical Scot of his order--tall, blonde, and very erect. +His eyes were his most noticeable feature; they were modern eyes with +that steely point of electric light in them never seen in the older +time. The lids, drawn horizontally over them, spoke for the man's +acuteness and dexterity of mind, and perhaps also for his superior +cunning. He was arrogant in manner, a trait either inherited or assumed +from his mother. In disposition he was kindly disposed to all who had +claims on him, but these claims required to be brought to his notice, +for he did not voluntarily seek after them. He certainly had humanity of +feeling, but of the delicacies and small considerations of life he was +very ignorant. + +As yet he was commonplace, because nothing had happened to him. He had +neither lost money, nor broken down in health, nor been unfairly treated +or unjustly blamed. He had never known the want of money, nor the +necessity for work; he had lost nothing by death and was only beginning +to gain by loving. In the eyes of all who knew him his conduct was +blameless. He was very righteous, and a great stickler for morality and +all respectable conventions; so much so, that even if he should sin, it +would be done with a certain decorum. But spiritually his soul lived in +a lane--the narrow lane of a bigoted Calvinism. + +This morning he was in high spirits, and inclined to be unusually +talkative. But it was not until the meal was nearly over that he said: +"There will be a new preacher in our church to-morrow morning. I am +sorry I shall not be able to hear him. Dr. Robertson says he has a +wonderful gift in expounding the Word." + +"When did you see the doctor?" asked Mrs. Campbell. + +"This morning. He called at my office on a little matter of business." + +"And why will you not hear the new preacher?" + +"I am going to England by the three o'clock train, mother." + +At this answer Isabel looked at Christina, and Mrs. Campbell said: "I +suppose you are going to Sheffield?" + +"Yes, I shall go to Sheffield." + +"You go there a great deal." + +"It belongs to my duty to go there." + +With these words he suddenly became--not exactly cross--but reserved and +ungracious. His mother's words had betrayed her. As soon as she remarked +on the frequency of his visits to Sheffield, he knew that she was aware +of the facts that she had positively asserted she would not name, and he +divined her intention to put him in the position of one who confesses a +fault or acknowledges a weakness. He retired immediately into the +fortress of his manly superiority. He was not going to be put to +catechism by a cabal of women, so he hastily finished his lunch and rose +from the table. + +"When will you return, Robert?" asked his mother. + +"In a few days. You had better give liberally to the church collection +to-morrow--paper or gold--silver from you will be remarked on." He +opened the door to these words, and, turning a moment, said "good-bye" +with a glance which included every one in the room. + +Silence followed his exit. Mrs. Campbell cut her veal chop into minute +strips, which she did not intend to eat; Isabel crumbled her bread on +her plate, lifted her scornful eyes a moment, and then began to fold her +napkin; Christina took the opportunity to help herself to another +tartlet. It was an uncomfortable pause, not to be relieved until Mrs. +Campbell chose to speak or rise. She continued the purposeless cutting +of her food, until Isabel's patience was worn out, and she asked: "Shall +I ring the bell, mother?" + +"No, I have not finished my lunch; you can safely bide my time. +Christina, pass me a tart." + +"Take two, mother. McNab makes them smaller every day. There is only a +mouthful in two of them." + +Mrs. Campbell took no notice of the criticism. + +"Isabel," she said, "what do you think of Robert's behavior?" + +"Do you mean the sudden change in his manner?" + +"Yes." + +"He had his own 'because' for it. I do not rightly comprehend what it +could be, unless he suspected from your remark that you had seen the +Bible, and were trying to lure him on to talk of Theodora." + +"That is uncommonly likely, but I'm not caring if he did." + +"Robert is very shrewd, and he sees through people as if they were made +of glass." + +"If he is going to marry the girl, why should he object to tell us about +her? Is she too good to talk about? Such perfect unreasonableness!" + +"He wished to tell us in his own time, and way, and thought a plot had +been laid to force his confidence. Robert Campbell is a very suspicious +man. He has a bad temper too. It is always near at hand, and short as a +cat's hair. And he hates a scene." + +"So do I. Goodness knows, I have always lifted myself above the ordinary +of quarrelling and disputing. Not so, Robert. He investigates the outs +and the ins of everything, and argues and argues about the most trifling +matter; but I must say, he is always in the wrong. And he can keep his +confidence as long as he wants to--the longer the better. I shall never +give him another opportunity." + +"It is a pity you offered him one this morning, mother." + +"I do not require to be reminded, Isabel. The whole affair, as it +stands, is an utterly unspeakable business. We will let it alone until +we have more facts, and more light given us." + +"Just so," answered Isabel. + +"Mother," interrupted Christina, "what do you say about the new preacher +and the collection?" + +"I know nothing about the new preacher. Dr. Robertson has aye got some +wonderfully gifted tongue in his pulpit, and all just to beguile the +silver out o' your purse." + +"Robert said we were not to give silver." + +"You will each of you give a silver crown piece; that, and not a bawbee +over it. As for myself, I am not going to church at all to-morrow. I am +o'erfull of my own thoughts and trouble. God will excuse me, I have no +doubt, for He knows the heart of a wounded mother." + +"Do you know what the collection is for, mother?" + +"The Foreign Missionary Fund. I have always been opposed to Foreign +Missions. The conversion of the heathen is in God's wise foreknowledge, +and He will accomplish it in His own way and time. It is not clear to me +that we have any right to interfere with His plans." + +"The world will come to an end when the heathen are converted," said +Christina. "Dr. Robertson read us prophecies to prove it, and then will +occur the Millennium, and the second coming of----" + +"Hush, Christina!" cried Mrs. Campbell impatiently. "The world is a very +good world, and suits me well enough in spite of Theodora, and the like +of her. I hope the world will not come to an end while I live. As to the +collection, you might each of you, as I said before, give a silver crown +piece. It is enough. Young people are not expected to give +extravagantly." + +"We are not young people, mother." + +"You are not married people. Women without husbands are not supposed to +have money to give away; women with husbands don't often have it either, +poor things!" + +"The greatest of all calamities is to be born a woman," said Isabel, +bitterly. + +"Especially a Scotchwoman," added Mrs. Campbell. "I have heard that in +the United States of America women are very honorably treated. Mrs. +Oliphant, who is from New York, told me a respectable man always +consulted his wife about his business, and his pleasure, and all that +concerns him, 'and in consequence,' she added, 'they are happy and +prosperous.'" + +"I did not know Mrs. Oliphant was an American," said Isabel. "Mr. +Oliphant comes from Inverness." + +"Inverness men are _too far north_ to be fools; and Tom Oliphant soon +found out that his wife's judgment and good sense more than doubled his +working capital. People say, 'Tom Oliphant has been lucky,' and so he +has, because he had intelligence enough to take his wife's advice. But +this is not a profitable or improving conversation, so near the Sabbath. +I will go to my room for an hour or two, girls. I have much to think +about." + +She left them with an air of despondency, but her daughters knew she was +not really unhappy. Some opposition to her supremacy she foresaw, but +the impending struggle interested her. She was not afraid of it nor yet +doubtful of its result. + +"I know my own son, I hope," she whispered to herself, "and as for +Theodora--_that_ for Theodora!" And she snapped her fingers scornfully +and defiantly. + +Isabel and Christina followed their mother, taking the long, broad +stairway with much slower steps. Their dull faces, listless tread, and +monotonous speech were in remarkable contrast to the passionate +eagerness of the elder woman, whose whole body radiated scorn and anger. +As they began the ascent, the clock struck three, and Isabel looked at +Christina, who answered her with a slight movement of the head. + +"He is just leaving the Caledonian Station," she said. + +"For Theodora," replied Christina bitterly. + +"How I hate that name already!" + +"And the girl also, Isabel?" + +"Yes, the girl also. What has she to do in our family? The Campbells can +live without her--fine!" + +"I wonder if Mrs. Robertson will ask us to meet this new minister." + +"I hope not. He will just be one of her 'divinity lads,' with his +license to preach fresh in his pocket. They are all of them poor and +sickeningly young. No man is fit to marry until he is forty years old, +unless you want the discipline of training him." + +"That is some of Mrs. Oliphant's talk, Isabel." + +"Mrs. Oliphant knows what she is talking about, Christina." + +"I wonder what you see in that American!" + +"Everything I would like to be--if I dared." + +"Why do you not call on her, then?" + +"Mother does not approve either of her conversation, or her dress, +Christina." + +"Her dress is lovely. I wish I could dress like her." + +"Christina Campbell! Her neck is shockingly uncovered, and her trains +half fill a small room. Mother says her modesty begins at her feet--and +stops there; but she is certainly very clever, and her husband waits on +her like a lover. The men look at him as if they thought him a fool, but +very likely he is the only wise man among them. What are you going to do +this afternoon?" + +"Dress and then unpick the work I did yesterday. It is all wrong." + +"How interesting!" + +"As much so as anything else. I should like to practise a little, but +the piano is closed on Saturdays." + +"That's all right. You always had a knack of playing unsuitable music on +Saturdays." + +"Mother makes two Sundays in a week. It isn't fair." + +By this time they were on the corridor of the floor on which their rooms +were situated, and as they stood at the door of Isabel's room, Christina +said: "At eight o'clock to-night, I wish you would make a remark about +Robert being with Theodora." + +"Make it yourself, Christina." + +"You know mother pays no attention to anything I say. You are the +eldest." + +But at dinner time Mrs. Campbell was in a mood so gloomy, that even +Isabel did not care to remind her of her son's delinquency. She did not +speak during dinner, and when tea was served she rose from the sofa with +a sigh so portentous, it caused the footman to stand still in the middle +of the drawing-room with the little silver kettle steaming in his hand. +She took her own cup with a sigh, and every time she lifted it or put it +down, she sighed deeply. Very soon Isabel began to sigh also, and +Christina ventured timidly to express her feelings in the same miserable +manner. But there was no spoken explanation of these mournful symptoms, +unless they typified disapproval and sorrow beyond the reach of words. + +As they sat thus with their teacups in their hands, a little clock on +the mantel struck eight. Mrs. Campbell cast reproachful eyes upon it. +"It reminds me, Isabel," she sighed; "you said eight o'clock, I think. +My poor son! He is now entering the gates of temptation." + +"I should not worry, mother. Robert is quite able to take care of +himself." + +Judging from the happy alacrity with which Robert left the train at +Kendal Station, Isabel's opinion was well founded. He had no doubts +about the road he was taking. He leaped into a cab, left his valise at +the Crown Inn, and then rode rapidly down the long antique street to a +pretty cottage standing with a church, or chapel, in a green croft +surrounded by poplar trees. + +The moon was full in the east, and the twilight still lingered in the +west, and in that heavenly gloaming a woman walked lightly towards the +little gate to welcome him. She had a tall, elastic, slender figure, and +moved with swift, graceful steps; her white dress, in that shadowy +mysterious light, giving her an ethereal beauty beyond description. + +Robert took both her hands, kissed them passionately, and led her to a +little rustic bench under the poplars. For a few moments they sat there, +and he filled his eyes and heart with her loveliness. Then they went +into the cottage and he found--as Isabel had predicted--that tea was +waiting for him. Theodora's mother, a woman of scrupulous neatness, +simple and unadorned, was sitting at the table; she smiled and gave him +her hand, and he sat down beside her. + +"How is Mr. Newton?" asked Robert. + +"He is in his study," she answered. "He will be here in a few minutes. +He does not wish us to wait for him." + +Theodora was at Robert's right hand, and never before had he thought her +beauty so bewildering. It had the magic of a countenance where the +intellect was of a high order, and the perfect features were the +portrait of a pure, translucent soul such as God loves. Her eyes +transfigured her, but the process was not intentional. Her sensitive +lips, her bright soft smile, her joyful heart, the fulness of her health +and life, all these things were entrancing, and made still more so, by +an unconsciousness sincere and natural as that of a bird, or a flower. +Robert Campbell might well feel his unworthiness, and tremble lest so +great a blessing should escape him. + +In a short time Mr. Newton entered. He had a tall, intellectual figure, +with the stoop forward and piercing glance of one straining after things +invisible. A singular unearthliness pervaded the whole man, and his +spare form appeared to be the suitable apparel for a pure and exalted +spirit. Prayer was his native air. He prayed even in his dreams. + +After some inquiries about the journey, the conversation turned +naturally to the subject of preaching. Robert Campbell remarked that, +"Sunday newspapers, Sunday magazines, and above all Sunday trips down +the river, had in Glasgow greatly injured Sabbath observance and +weakened the influence of the pulpit." + +"No, no, sir!" cried the preacher; "books, papers, amusements, nothing, +can take the place of sermons. The _face to face_ element is +indispensable. It is _the Word made Flesh_ that prevails. As soon as a +real preacher appears, what crowds follow him! Not to go back to the +preachers of old, consider only Farrar, Liddon, Spurgeon, Hyacinthe, +Lacordaire, and the great American Beecher. Think of Spurgeon for thirty +years preaching twice every Sunday to six thousand souls!" + +"Then you believe, sir, the influence of the pulpit depends on the +preacher?" + +"Yes. If there is a good intelligent man in the pulpit, there will be +good intelligent men in the pews." + +"Then you would have only highly-cultured, up-to-date men in the +pulpit?" + +"I would not have men in the pulpit whom no one would think of listening +to, out of the pulpit. The people want sermons that bring the pulpit +near to the hearth, the table, and the counter; sermons of homely +fertility, local allusions, and personal application, such as Christ +gave them. Remember for a moment His everyday similes and parables: the +lighting of a candle, the seeking of a piece of lost silver, the search +for the lost sheep. That is one kind of sermon that always draws +hearers. There is another kind that is irresistible to a very large +number--sermons full of the spirit of Paul, reaching out to the Heavenly +Church with its invisible rites and the splendor and music in the soul +of the saints." + +There was a silence, for the preacher was pursuing his thoughts, leaning +forward with a burning look, drinking in the joy of his own spiritual +vision. + +Robert broke the pause by saying: "We Scots are used to logical and +argumentative discourses," but he spoke in a much lower tone than was +usual to him. + +"Then your preachers must talk to their congregations in the pulpit, as +they never would think of talking to them out of it." + +"Well, we are not in favor of mingling sacred and material things; we +believe it might have a tendency to bring preaching into contempt." + +"Mr. Campbell," said Newton, "preaching is a great example of the +survival of the fittest. If it could have been killed by contempt, or +inefficiency, or ignorance, or too much book learning, or by any other +cause, the imbecile sermons preached every Sunday through the length and +breadth of the land would have killed it long ago." + +"Do you then consider oratorical power a necessity to preaching, sir?" + +"No. Other power can take its place, such as great piety, great +sincerity, the simplicity of the Gospel, or the personal character of +the preacher. I once heard Newman preach. He was far from what we are +accustomed to call eloquent. One long sentence was followed by another +equally long, separated by a sharp fracture like the utterance of a +primitive saint or martyr; but also like a direct message from heaven. +And never, while I live, shall I forget the ecstasy of love and longing +with which he cried out: 'Oh that I knew where to find Him! that I might +come into His presence!' The church of St. Mary was crowded with young +men, and I believe the heart of every one present burned within him, and +he longed as I did, to fall down and kiss the feet of Christ." + +Conversation akin to this sweetened the simple meal, and after it Robert +and Theodora walked up and down the pretty lane running past the Chapel +Croft. It had a hedge of sweet-briar which perfumed the warm, still air, +and the full moon made everything beautiful, and Theodora loveliest of +all. And though it was near the Sabbath, Robert did not hold his +sisters' creed regarding love-making at that time. He could no more help +telling Theodora how beautiful she was, and how he loved her +excellencies and her beauty, than he could help breathing. + +It was no new tale. He had told it to her ever since they first met. But +this night he felt he must venture all, to win all. The light on her +face, the sweet gentleness of her voice, the touch of her hand on his +arm, all these things urged him to ask that question, which if asked +from the heart, is never forgotten. Theodora answered it with a shy but +loving honesty. The little word which made all things sure was softly +spoken, and then the purple Bible was given, and clasping it between +their hands, they made over it their solemnly happy promises of eternal +love and faithfulness. And what conversation followed is not to be +written down; it was every word of it in the delicious, stumbling patois +of love. + +The next morning Robert went to the Methodist Chapel with Theodora, but +his Calvinism was in no degree prejudiced by the Arminian sermon, for he +did not hear a word of it. He was listening to the tale of love in his +heart, Theodora sat at his side, and he would not have changed places +with the king on his throne. Love had thrown the gates of life wide open +for the Queen of Love to enter in, and for the first time in all his +thirty years of existence, he knew what it was to be joyful. + +He left Kendal on Monday afternoon and went to Sheffield, and did much +profitable business there. And he was so gay and good-natured that many +thought they had misjudged him on former occasions, and that after all +he was really a fine fellow. Others wondered if he had been drinking, +and no one but a woman, the wife of one of his business friends with +whom he dined, had the wit to see, and to say: + +"The man is in love, and the girl has accepted him--poor thing!" + +"Why 'poor thing,' Louise?" + +"Because he will get out of love some day, and then----" + +"Then, what?" + +"He will be the old Robert Campbell, a little older, a little more +selfish, a little more sure of his own infallibility, and a great deal +worse-tempered." + +"That will depend on the girl, Louise." + +"And on circumstances! Generally speaking, women may write themselves +circumstances' 'most obedient servants.' They can't help it." + +In spite, however, of the disagreeable journey between Sheffield and +Glasgow, Campbell reached home in very good spirits. It was then four +o'clock in the afternoon, and he resolved to sleep a couple of hours +before seeing any one. He thought after dinner would be as good a time +as any for the communication he had to make to his family. Something of +a blusterer among men, he feared the woman he called mother. His sisters +he had never taken seriously, but he remembered they would come close to +Theodora, and that it might be prudent to have their good will. They +certainly could make things unpleasant if they wished to do so. + +He had always been able to sleep, on his own order to sleep, and was +proud of the circumstance; but this afternoon he had somehow lost this +control. Sleep would not obey his demand, yet he lay still, because he +had resolved to spend two hours in bed; nevertheless he rose unrested, +and decidedly anxious. + +Dinner was served at seven, and he entered the dining-room precisely at +that hour. His place was prepared for him, but the women knew better +than to fret him with exclamations, or with inquiries of any kind. He +was permitted to take his chair as silently as if he had never missed a +meal with them. And though this behavior was in exact accord with his +own desires, it did not suit him that night. He had seen a different +kind of family life at the Newtons', and no man is so self-reliant as to +find kind inquiries effusive and tiresome, if the kindness and interest +is lavished on himself. + +He was, however, good-tempered enough to praise the dinner, and to say +"Scotch broth and good Scotch collops were pleasant changes from the +roast beef of old England, her Yorkshire pudding and cherry pies." Mrs. +Campbell smiled graciously at this compliment, and answered: + +"I consider collops, Robert, as the most nutritive and delicious of all +the ways in which beef is cooked. I attribute my good health to eating +them so regularly, and though Jepson is constantly complaining of +McNab's extravagance and ill-temper, I always say, 'I don't care, +Jepson, what faults McNab has, she can cook collops.' Very few can make +a good dish of collops, so I think I am right." + +"Tell Jepson I say he is to let McNab alone. How did you like Dr. +Robertson's last _protege_?" + +"I did not go to church. I was not well. The girls were there." + +"What is your opinion, Isabel?" + +"That he is very like the lave of the doctor's wonderfuls. Mrs. +Robertson told us, he had astonished his college by the tenderness of +his conscience and his spirituality; and when I asked her the +particulars, she said he had utterly refused to study the Latin Grammar +because it contained nothing spiritual. Greek and Hebrew, of course, for +they were necessary to a right reading of the Scriptures; but the Latin +Grammar had no spiritual relations with literature of any kind--far from +it. From what he had been told it was both idolatrous and immoral in its +outcome. I suppose he is from Argyle, for when there was talk of +expelling him for not conforming to rules, he wrote to the Duke, and the +great Duke stood by the lad, and complimented him on his tender +conscience, and the like, and took him under his own protection--and so +on. Mrs. Robertson is of the opinion, he may come to be the Moderator of +the Assembly with such backing." + +"And what do you think?" + +"I would not wonder if he did. He has the conceit for anything, and he +is a black Celt, and very likely has their covetous eye and greedy +heart. He will get on, no doubt of it. Why not? The great Duke at his +back, and himself always pushing to the front." + +"I thought he was nice-looking," said Christina timidly. "His fine black +eyes were fairly ablaze when he was preaching." + +"He is a ferocious Calvinist," added Isabel. + +"Well, he had fine eyes and was good-looking," persisted Christina. + +"Good looks are nothing, Christina," said Robert severely. "Beauty is +not a moral quality." + +"People who are good-looking get on in this world. I notice that. I wish +I was bonnie." + +"You are well enough, Christina," said Mrs. Campbell. "If you cannot +talk more sensibly, keep quiet." + +Christina with a wronged, grieved look subsided, and Mrs. Robertson's +reception for the conscientious youth, under the Argyle protection, +furnished the conversation until the cloth was drawn, and the ladies had +trifled awhile with their walnuts and raisins. Then Campbell rose, drank +the glass of wine that had been standing before him, and said: + +"I am going to the library to smoke half-an-hour. Then, mother, you and +the girls will join me there. I have something important to tell you." + +He did not wait for an answer, and his mother was furious at the +request. "Did you notice his tone, Isabel?" she inquired. "His words +sounded more like a command than a request. It is adding insult to +injury to summon me to his room--for nobody goes to the library but +himself--to hear the thing he has to tell. I shall go to my own room, +and he can come there and tell me his important news." + +"Mother, why not send for him to return here in half-an-hour?" + +This proposal was acceptable, and in half-an-hour Jepson was sent with +"Mrs. Campbell's compliments, and she hopes Mr. Campbell will return to +the dining-room, as she feels unable to bear the smell of tobacco +to-night." + +Mr. Campbell uttered two words in a low voice which sounded like +"Confound it!" but he bid Jepson tell Mrs. Campbell "he would return to +the dining-room immediately." Upon hearing which, Mrs. Campbell took a +reclining position on the sofa, and on her face there was the satisfied, +close-mouthed smile of one who compliments herself on winning the first +move. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +PREPARING FOR THE BRIDE + + +Campbell returned to the dining-room pleasantly enough. He placed his +chair at his mother's side, and asked: "Are you feeling ill, mother?" + +"Rather, Robert, and the library is objectionable to me, since you began +to smoke there. In fact, I have long been prejudiced against the room, +for your father had a trick of sending for me to come there, whenever he +was compelled to tell me of some misfortune. Consequently, I have +associated the library with calamity, and I did not wish to hear your +important news there." + +"Calamity? No, no! My news is altogether happy and delightful. Mother, I +am going to be married in October, to the loveliest woman in the world, +and she is as good and clever as she is beautiful." + +"Married! May I ask after the lady's name?" + +"Theodora Newton. Her father is the Methodist preacher at Kendal, a town +in Westmoreland." + +"England?" + +"Yes." + +"She is an Englishwoman?" + +"Of course!" + +"I might have known it. I never knew a Scotchwoman called Theodora." + +"It is a good name and suits her to perfection. Her father belongs to +the Northumberland Newtons, a fine old family." + +"It may be. I never heard of them. You say he is a Methodist preacher?" + +"A remarkable preacher. I heard him last Sunday." + +"Robert Campbell! Have you fairly forgotten yourself? Methodists are +Arminians, and Arminians I hold in utter abomination, as every good +Calvinist should." + +"I know nothing about such subjects. This generation, mother, is getting +hold of more tolerant ideas. But it makes no matter to me what creed +Theodora believes in. I should love her just the same even if she were a +Roman Catholic." + +"A man in love, Robert, suffers from a temporary collapse o' good sense. +But when I hear you say things like that, I think you are mad entirely." + +"No, mother. I never was so happy in all my five senses as I am now. The +world was never so beautiful, and life never so desirable, as since I +loved Theodora." + +"Doubtless you think she is a nonsuch, but I call your case one of +lamentable self-pleasing. To the lures of what you consider a beautiful +woman, you are sacrificing your noblest feelings and traditions. Don't +deceive yourself. Was there not in all Scotland a girl of your own race +and faith, good enough for you to marry?" + +"I never saw one I wanted to marry." + +"I might mention Jane Dalkeith." + +"You need not. I would not marry Jane if she was the only woman in the +world!" + +"You prefer above all others an Englishwoman and a Methodist?" + +"Decidedly." + +"You have made up your mind to marry this doubly objectionable woman?" + +"Positively, some time next October." + +"And what is to become of me, and your sisters?" + +"That is what I wish to understand." + +"I have my dower-house in Saltcoats, but it is small and uncomfortable. +If I go there, I shall have to leave the Kirk I have sat in for +thirty-seven years, the minister who is dear and profitable to me, all +the friends I have in the world, and the numerous----" + +"Mother, I wish you to do none of these things. This house is large +enough for us all. The south half, which you now occupy, you can retain +for yourself and my sisters. I shall refurnish, as Theodora desires, the +northern half, and if you will continue the management of the house and +table, we can all surely eat in our present dining-room. There will only +be one more to cater for, and I will allow liberally for that in the +weekly sum for your expenditure. Theodora is no housekeeper and does not +pretend to be. She is immensely clever and intellectual, and has been a +professor in a large Methodist College for girls." + +"You will be a speculation to all who know you." + +"I am not caring a penny piece. They can speculate all they choose to. I +shall meanwhile be extremely indifferent. I have come at last, mother, +to understand that in a great love there is great happiness. The whole +soul can take shelter there." + +"The soul takes shelter in nothing and in no one related to this earth. +That is some of last Sabbath's teaching, I suppose." + +"Yes," he answered. "I was at Theodora's side all last Sunday and I +learned this lesson in the sweetest way imaginable." + +"I wish you to talk modestly before your sisters, and I do not like to +hear the Sabbath called Sunday." + +Robert laughed and answered: "Well, mother, we have so little sunshine +in Scotland, we really cannot speak of any day as Sunday." + +"You may laugh, Robert, but such things are related to spiritual +ordinances, and are not joking matters." + +"You are right, mother. Let us get back to business. Will you accept my +proposal, or do you prefer to go to your own home?" + +"I have been used to consider this house my own home, for thirty-seven +years, and if I leave it, I wonder what kind of housekeeping will go on +in it, with a college woman to superintend things? You would be left to +the servant lasses, and their doings and not-doings would be enough to +turn my hair gray." + +"Then, mother, you will stay here, as I propose?" + +"I cannot do my duty, and leave." + +"I thank you, mother." Then, turning to his sisters, he said: "I hope +you are satisfied, girls." + +"There is no other course for us," answered Isabel. "We must stay where +mother stays. It would be unkind to leave her now--when you are +practically leaving her." + +"I hope Theodora will be nice," said Christina. "If she is, we may be +happy." + +"Do your best, Christina, to make all pleasant, and you will please me +very much," said Robert. "And, Isabel, I am not leaving any of you. +Marriage will not alter me in regard to my relationship to mother, +yourself, and Christina. I promise you that." + +"If you intend to make many alterations in the house, you will have to +see about them at once," said Mrs. Campbell. + +"To-morrow I shall send men to remove all the old furniture from the +rooms I intend to decorate." + +"To remove it! Where to?" + +"To Bailey's auction rooms." + +"Robert Campbell! Your poor, dear father's rooms, and he not gone two +years yet!" + +"To-morrow will be nine days short of the two years. Do you wish his +rooms to remain untouched for nine days longer, mother?" + +"It is no matter. Let his lounge, and his chair and his bagatelle board +go--let all go! The dead, as well as the living, must make way for +Theodora." + +"And, mother, as the hall will be entirely changed, and there will be +much traffic through it, you had better remove early in the morning +those huge glass cases of impaled insects and butterflies. If you wish +to keep them, take them to your rooms; if not, let them go to Bailey's." + +"They may as well go with the rest. Your father valued them highly in +this life, but----" + +"They are the most lugubrious, sorrowful objects. They make me shudder. +How could any one imagine they were ornamental?" + +"Your father thought them to be very curious and instructive, and they +cost a great deal of money." + +"If during the night you remember any changes you would like to make, we +can discuss them in the morning," said Robert. + +He went out gaily, and as he closed the door, began to sing: + + "_My love is like a red, red rose, + That's newly blown in June; + My Love is like a melody, + That's sweetly played in tune._" + +Then the library shut in the singer and the song, and all was silence. + +Mrs. Campbell did not speak, and Isabel looked at her with a kind of +contemptuous pity. She thought her mother had but lamely defended her +position, and was sure she could have done it more effectively. +Christina was simply interested. There was really something going to +happen, and as far as she could see, the change in the house would +bring other changes still more important. She was satisfied, and she +looked at her silent mother and sister impatiently. Why did they not say +something? + +At length Mrs. Campbell rose from the sofa, and began to walk slowly up +and down the room, and with motion came speech. + +"I think, Isabel," she said, "I signified my opinions and desires +plainly enough to your brother." + +"You spoke with your usual wisdom and clearness, mother." + +"Do you think Robert understood that I consider this house my house, and +that I intend to be mistress in it? Why, girls, your father made me +mistress here more than thirty-seven years ago. That ought to be enough +for Robert." + +"Robert is now in father's place," said Christina. + +"Robert cannot take from me what your father gave me. This house is +morally mine, and always will be, while I choose to urge my claim. I am +not going to be put to the wall by two lovesick fools. No, indeed!" + +"I think Robert showed himself very wise for his own--and Theodora's +interests; and he would refute your moral claim, I assure you, mother, +without one qualm of conscience." + +"Refute me! He might as well try to refute the Bass rock. A mother is +irrefutable, Isabel! But his conduct will necessitate us all using a +deal of diplomacy. You do not require to be told why, or how, at the +present time. I have a forecasting mind, and I can see how things are +going to happen, but just now, we must keep a calm sound in all our +observes, for the man is in the burning fever of an uncontrollable love, +and clean off his reason--on the subject of that Englishwoman, he is mad +entirely." + +"I wonder what Dr. Robertson, and the Kirk, and people in general, will +say?" + +"What they will say to our faces is untelling, Isabel; what they will +say when we are not bodily present, it is easy to surmise. Every one +will consider Robert Campbell totally beyond his senses. He is. That +creature in a place called Kendal, has bewitched him. As you well know, +the prime and notable quality of Robert Campbell was, that he could make +money, and especially save money. He always, in this respect, reminded +me of his grandfather, whom every one called 'Old Economy.' Now, what is +he doing? Squandering money on every hand! Expensive journeys for the +sole end of love-making, expensive presents no doubt, half of Traquair +House redecorated and refurnished, wedding expenses coming on, honeymoon +expenses; goodness only knows what else will be emptying the purse. And +for whom? An Englishwoman, a Methodist, a poor school-teacher. She will +neither be to hold nor to bind in her own expenses; for coming to +Traquair House will be to her like entering a superior state of +existence, and she won't know how to carry herself in it. We may take +that to be a certainty. But I think I can teach her! Yes, I think I can +teach her!" + +"How will you do it, mother?" + +"I cannot exactly specify now. She will give me the points, and +opportunities; and correcting, and advising, come most effectively from +the passing events of daily life. As I said, she will give me plenty of +occasions or I'm no judge of women--especially brides." + +"You might be flustered if you were in a hurry and unprepared, mother, +and miss points of advantage, or get more than you gave, but if you had +a plan thought out----" + +"No, no, Isabel! I have lived long enough to learn the wisdom of +building my wall with the stones I find at the foot of it." + +"Many a sore heart the poor thing will get!" said Christina, with an air +of mock pity. + +"We cannot say too much or go too far, while Robert is as daft in love +as he is at present," continued Mrs. Campbell. "We must be cautious, and +that is the good way--the bit-by-bitness is what tells; now a look, now +a word, now a hint, there a suspicion, there a worriment, there a +hesitation or a doubt. It is the bit-by-bitness tells! This is a +forgetful world, so I mention this fact again. And remember also, that +men are the most uncertain part of creation. I have known Robert +Campbell thirty years and I have just found him out. He is a curious +creature, is Robert. He thinks himself steady as the hills, but in +reality he is just as unstable as water. Good-night, girls! We will go +for our sleep now, though I'm doubting if we get any." + +"Theodora won't keep _me_ awake," said Christina. Isabel did not speak +then, but as they stood a moment at their bedroom doors, she said: +"Mother is not to be trifled with. She is going to make Theodora trouble +enough. I'm telling you." + +"I don't care if she does! Anything for a change. Good-night!" + +"Good-night! I do not expect to sleep." + +"Perfect nonsense! Why should you keep awake for a woman in Kendal? Shut +your eyes and forget her. Or dream that she brings you a husband." + +"I'll do no such thing. That's a likely story!" and the two doors shut +softly to the denial, and Christina's low laugh at it. + +When the three women came down to breakfast in the morning, they found a +dozen men at work dismantling the hall and the rooms on the north side +of the house. The glass cases of insects and butterflies, and the +old-fashioned engravings of Sir Robert Peel, Lord Derby, the Duke of +Wellington, and Queen Victoria's marriage ceremony were just leaving the +house. Mrs. Campbell, walking in her most stately manner, approached the +foreman and began to give him some orders. He listened impatiently a few +moments, and then answered with small courtesy: + +"I have my written directions, ma'am, from the master, and I shall +follow them to the letter. There is no use in you bothering and +interfering," and with the last word on his lips, he turned from her to +address some of his workmen. + +She looked at him in utter amazement and speechless anger; then with an +apparent haughty indifference, turned into the breakfast-room bringing +the word "interfering" with her, and flavoring every remark she made +with it. She was in a white heat of passion, and really felt herself to +have been insulted beyond all pacification. Isabel had been a little in +advance, and had not seen and heard the affront, but she was in thorough +sympathy with her mother. Christina was differently affected. The idea +of a workman telling her mother not to interfere in her own house was so +flagrantly impudent, that it was to Christina flagrantly funny. Every +time Mrs. Campbell imitated the man, she felt that she must give way, +and at length the strain was uncontrollable, and she burst into a +screaming passion of laughter. + +"Forgive me, mother!" she said as soon as speech was possible. "That +man's impertinence to you has made me hysterical, for I never saw you +treated so disrespectfully before. I was very nervous when I rose this +morning." + +"You must conquer such absurd feelings, Christina. Observe your sister +and myself. We should be ashamed to exhibit such a total collapse of +will power." + +"Excuse me, mother. I will go to my room until I feel better." + +"Very well, Christina. You had better take a drink of water. Remember, +you must learn to meet annoyance like a sensible woman." + +"I will, mother." + +But after breakfast when Isabel came to her, she went off into peals of +laughter again, burying her face in the pillows, and only lifting it to +ejaculate: "It was too delicious, Isabel--too deliciously funny for +anything! If you had seen that man stare mother in the face--and tell +her not to interfere! I wondered how he dared, but I admired him for it; +he was a big, handsome fellow. Oh, how I wished I was like him! What +privileges men do have?" + +"Do you mean to call it a privilege to tell mother not to interfere?" + +"Many a time I would like to have done it; yes, many a time. I know it +is wicked, but mother does interfere too much. It is her specialty!" and +Christina appeared ready for another fit of laughter. + +"If you laugh any more, Christina, I shall feel it my duty to throw cold +water in your face. Mother told me to do so." + +"Such advice comes from her interfering temper. That handsome fellow was +right." + +"Behave yourself, Christina. What is the matter with you?" + +"It is the change, Isabel. To see lots of men in the hall, and that +heavy black furniture and the poor beetles and butterflies, and the +great men's pictures going away----" + +"Can't you speak correctly? Are you sick?" + +"I must be!" + +"Go back to bed, and I will get mother to give you a sleeping powder." + +"That will be better than cold water. If you could only have seen +mother's face, Isabel, when that man told her not to interfere. As for +him, he had a wink in his eyes, I know. I hope I shall never see him +again. If I do----" + +"I trust you will behave decently, as Christina Campbell ought to do." + +"If he winks, I shall laugh. I know I shall." + +"Then you ought to be ashamed of yourself!" + +"I am, but what good does that do?" + +"See here, Christina, there are going to be many changes in this house, +and if you intend to meet them with this idiotic laughter, what pleasure +can you expect? Be sensible, Christina." + +Poor Christina! The keenest of all her faculties was her sense of the +ridiculous. On this side of her nature, her intellect could have been +highly developed, but instead it had been ruthlessly depressed and +ignored. The comic page of the newspapers, the only page she cared for, +was generally removed; she could tell a funny story delightfully, but no +one smiled if she did so; she saw the comical attributes of every one, +and everything, but it was a grave misdemeanor to point them out; and +thus snubbed and chided for the one thing she could do, she feared to +attempt others which she knew only in a mediocre manner. + +At the dinner table she was able to take her place in a placid, sensible +mood. She found the family deep in the discussion of an immediate +removal to the seashore. It was at any rate about the usual time of +their summer migration, and Robert was advising his mother to go to the +Isle of Arran. But Mrs. Campbell had resolved to go to Campbelton, where +she had many relations. "We can stay at the _Argyle Arms_," she said, +"and then neither the Lairds nor the Crawfords will have the face to be +dropping in for a few days' change, at my expense." + +Christina looked distressed, and touched Isabel's foot to excite her to +rebellion. "Mother," said Isabel dolorously, "Christina and I hate +Campbelton! It smells of whiskey and fish, and not even the great sea +winds can make the place clean and sweet." + +"It makes me ill," ventured Christina. + +"My family have lived there for generations, Christina, and it never +made them ill. They are, indeed, very robust and healthy." + +"There is nothing to see, mother." + +"I am ashamed of you, Christina. It is a town of the greatest antiquity, +and was, as you ought to know, the capital of the Dalriadan kingdom in +the sixth and seventh century." + +"I know all about its antiquities, mother. I wish I didn't." + +"Christina, what is the matter with you to-day?" + +"I am tired of living, mother." + +"Robert, do you hear your sister?" + +"Why are you tired of living, Christina?" asked Robert, not unkindly. + +"We do not live, brother; that is the reason." + +"What do you mean?" + +"Life is variety. To us every day is the same, except the Sabbath, and +that is the worst day of all. I don't blame you, brother, for a +desperate effort to change your life. If I were a man I should run +away." + +"What do you mean by a desperate effort, Christina?" + +"I mean marriage. Sometimes I feel that I would run away with any man +that would marry me." + +"_Hush!_ Such a feeling is shameful. What do you wish instead of +Campbelton?" + +The courage of the desperate possessed Christina and she answered: "I +should like to travel. I want to see Edinburgh and London and Paris like +other girls whose families have money, and Isabel feels as badly at our +restrictions as I do." + +"What do you say, mother? Will you go with the girls to Edinburgh and +London? Paris is out of the question. I will pay all expenses." + +"I will do nothing of the kind. I am going to Campbelton. I suppose the +girls can go by themselves." + +"You know better, mother." + +"English girls go all over the world by themselves, and some kinds of +Scotch girls are beginning to think mothers an unnecessary institution." + +Robert looked at Isabel, and she said: "We might have a courier. I mean +a lady courier." + +"I will not permit my daughters to go stravaging round the world with +any strange woman. Robert, I think you have behaved most imprudently to +propose any such thing." + +"In _your_ company, mother, was my suggestion. I do think an entire +change of people and surroundings would do both you and my sisters a +great deal of good." + +"Changes are plentiful; too many are now in progress." + +So the subject died in bad temper, and Robert felt his proffered +kindness to have been very ungraciously received. But when he rose from +the table, Christina touched his arm as he passed her chair. "Thank you, +brother," she said. "You wished to give us a little pleasure. It is not +your fault we are deprived of it." + +He saw that her eyes were full of tears, and her weary, plaintive voice +touched his heart, so he turned to his mother and said: + +"Think of what I have proposed. I will not stint you in expenses. Give +the girls and yourself a little pleasure--do." + +"Your own expenses are going to be tremendous, Robert, furnishing, +travelling and what not. I can't conscientiously increase them." + +At these words Christina left the room. Robert did not answer his +mother's remark, but he looked at Isabel, and she understood the look as +entrusting the further prosecution of the subject to her. + +Mrs. Campbell, however, refused to give up Campbelton. "I heard," she +said, "that Mrs. Walter Galbraith was going to France and Italy. +Perhaps she will allow you to travel with her." + +Isabel looked at her mother with something like reproach. "You know +well, mother, that Mrs. Galbraith dresses and travels in the most +extravagant fashion. She would not be seen with two old maids in plain +brown merino suits. We should look like her servants. Even if we got +stylish travelling gowns, we should want dinner dresses, and opera +dresses, and cloaks and changes, and small necessities innumerable. It +would cost a thousand pounds, if not more, to clothe us both for a three +months' travel with Mrs. Galbraith." + +"Then be sensible women and go to Campbelton. You can take your wheels +and on the firm sands of Macrihanish Bay have a five miles' unbroken +spin. There are boating and fishing and very interesting walks." + +"And Christina will find company for her wheel and walks, mother. The +last time we were in Campbelton, the schoolmaster, James Rathey, was +constantly with her. He was in love, and Christina liked him. After we +came home he wrote to her, and I had hard work to prevent her answering +his letters." + +"You ought to have told me this before." + +"I was sorry for her. Poor girl, he was the only lover she ever had!" + +"Such folly! I shall watch the schoolmaster myself this summer. I have +influence enough to get him dismissed. He shall not teach in Campbelton +another year." + +"Oh, mother, how cruel and unjust that would be! I am sorry I told you." +And Isabel felt the case to be hopeless, and did not make another plea. + +She went straight to her sister's room. "Mother is not to be moved, +Christina," she said. "We shall have to go to Campbelton." + +"So be it. Jamie Rathey will be having his vacation now, and he can play +the fiddle and sing '_The Laird o' Cockpen_' worth listening to. He +promised to buy a wheel before I came again, and then we will away to +Macrihanish sands for a race. I won't be cheated out of that pleasure, +Isabel, and you need not say a word about it." + +"You cannot hide it. Every one but mother knew about you and James +Rathey last year, and Aunt Laird would have told mother, but I begged +her not. If you begin that foolishness again, I must attend to the +matter." + +"You mean you will tell mother?" + +"Yes, decidedly." + +"Then you will be an ill-natured sister." + +A little later Mrs. Campbell appeared and told them to pack their +trunks, and lock up the clothing they did not intend to take with them. +"The paperers and painters are coming into the house to-morrow morning," +she said. "We shall take the boat for Campbelton directly after an early +breakfast." + +As neither Isabel nor Christina made any protest, she added: "You may +go at once and buy yourselves a couple of suits, one for church, and a +white one that will be easily laundered. I suppose hats, gloves, shoes, +and some other things will be necessary. You can each of you spend forty +pounds. This is a gift, I shall not take it from your allowance." + +"I cannot see through mother," observed Christina as they were on their +shopping expedition. + +"Can you see through anything, Christina? I cannot." + +"She had a great fit of the liberalities this morning. What for?" + +"She was buying us. One way or another, she has us all under her feet." + +"Poor Theodora!" + +"Keep your pity for poor Christina. If Theodora has been a +schoolmistress she knows fine how to hold her own." + +"With schoolgirls--perhaps. Mother is different." + +"The difference is not worth counting. Women, old and young, are very +much alike." + +"Do you believe the paperers and painters begin work to-morrow?" + +"Mother said so. It is one of her virtues to tell the truth. You know +how often she declares she would not lie even to the devil." + +"Yes--but was that the truth?" + +"It is not right to criticise and question what your mother says, +Christina." + +In the morning the arrival of a number of men with pails, and brushes, +and paint-pots, justified Mrs. Campbell's assertion, and the three women +were glad to escape the dirt, noise, and confusion in Traquair House, +even for the _Argyle Arms_ in Campbelton. Robert went with them to the +boat, and Isabel's pathetic acceptance of what she disliked, and the +tears in Christina's eyes made him a little unhappy. He slipped some +gold into their hands, as he bid them good-bye, and their silent looks +of pleasure at his remembrance, soothed the uncertain sense of some +unkindness or unfairness which had troubled him since Christina's +rebellious outbreak. He was glad he had gone with them to the boat, and +glad that he had given them a parting token of his brotherly care, and +he felt that he could now turn cheerfully to his own pressing but +delightful affairs. + +He was singularly happy in them, and really glad to be rid of all advice +and interference. Men who had known him for many years, wondered at his +boyish joyfulness. He was a different Robert Campbell, but then it was +generally known he was in love, and all the world loves a lover. No one +was cruel or malicious enough to warn, or advise, or shadow the glory of +his expectations by any doubt of their full accomplishment. The +initiated gossiped among themselves, and some said: "Campbell is a fool +to be making such a fuss about any woman;" and others spoke of Mrs. +Traquair Campbell, and "wondered how the English girl would manage her." + +"The poor lassie will be at her mercy," said one old man. + +"She will," answered his companion, "for the Traquair Campbells' ways +will be dark to a stranger. It takes a Scotchwoman to match a +Scotchwoman." + +"Yet I have heard that the old lady is a wonder o' good sense and +prudence. Her husband was a useless body, but she managed him fine, and +was one o' those women that are a crown to their husbands." + +The first speaker laughed peculiarly. "Man, David!" he said, "little you +ken, if you take King Solomon's ideas of a comfortable wife to live wi'. +The women who are a crown to a poor man are generally a crown o' thorns, +I'm thinking." + +But no doubts or fears troubled Robert Campbell. He thought only of his +marvellous fortune in winning a woman so lovely and so good. He was not +unmindful of either her intellect or her education, but he did not talk +of these excellencies, even to his chief friend Archie St. Claire. He +had a feeling that intellect and learning were masculine attributes, and +he preferred to dwell entirely on the sweet feminine virtues of his +beloved. But this, or that, there was no other woman in the world but +Theodora to Robert Campbell, for lovers are selfish creatures, and Lord +Beaconsfield says truly: "To a man in love, all other women are +uninteresting, if not repulsive." + +So the days and the weeks went happily past, in preparing a home for +Theodora. He went over and over very frequently the last few words--"a +home for Theodora!" and they sung, and swung, and shone in his heart, +and made his life a fairy story. "I never knew what it was to be happy +before," he said repeatedly; and it was the truth, for up to this time +he had never felt the joy of that mystical blending of two souls, when +self is lost and found again in the being of another. + +Twice he took a trip to Campbelton, and found all to his satisfaction. +His mother was surrounded by her kindred, a situation a Scotch man or +woman tolerates with an equanimity that is astonishing; and Isabel and +Christina wore their usual air of placid indifference to everything. +They were all desirous to know what had been done in the house, but he +refused to enter into explanations. "It is ill praising or banning +half-done work," he said in excuse, "but I promise on my next visit to +take you home with me, and then you will see the work finished." + +"And then you will go and get married?" asked Christina, and he answered +with a smile, "Then I shall go and get married." + +"When you bring Theodora home she will give us a little pleasure, I +hope." + +"I am sure she will. Theodora is fond of company and entertainments, and +she will wish you to share them with us, and that will add to my +pleasure also." + +"We shall see." + +"Do you doubt what I say?" + +"My dreams never come true, Robert." + +"Theodora will make them come true." + +Then Christina laughed a little, and Isabel looked at her mother's dour, +scornful face and copied it. + +Robert noticed the expression, and he asked pleasantly: "What kind of +summer have you had, Isabel?" + +"Exactly the summer we expected. Sometimes the minister called, and +talked in an exciting manner about Calvinism, and the smallpox; and we +have been surrounded by a crowd of relatives. Mother has enjoyed them +very much; she had not seen some of her fourth and fifth cousins for +nearly seven years; they had increased in number considerably during +that interval, and their names, and dispositions, the sicknesses they +had been through, the various talents they showed, have all been to talk +over a great many times. Oh, mother has enjoyed it much! It makes no +matter about Christina and myself." + +"It does make matter, Isabel. This coming winter I intend to see you go +out as much as you desire." + +"Thank you, brother. Christina will enjoy the opportunities. I have +outlived the desire for amusements. I would rather travel, and see +places and famous things. People no longer interest me." + +"I think with a little inquiry that can be managed. I am so happy, +Isabel, I wish every one else to be happy." + +She looked at her brother wonderingly, and at night as the sisters sat +doing their hair in Christina's room she said: "Love must be an amazing +thing, Christina, to change any one the way it has changed Robert +Campbell. The man has been in a sense converted--he has found grace, +whether it be the grace of God, or the grace of Love, I know not, no, +nor anybody else just yet." + +"St. John says, 'God is love.' I have often wondered about those words." + +"Then keep your wonder. If you ask for explanations about things, all +the wonder and the beauty goes out of them. When I was at school, and +had to pull a rose to pieces and write down all the Latin names of its +structure, its beauty was gone. The rose was explained to us, but it +wasn't a rose any longer. God is Love. We will thank St. John for +telling us that beautiful truth, but we will not ask for explanations. +Maybe you may find out some day all that Love means. You are not too +old, and would be handsome if you were dressed becomingly, and were +happy." + +"Happy?" + +"Yes. Happiness makes people beautiful. Look at Robert. He was rather +good-looking before he was in love, he is now a very handsome man. +Theodora has worked wonders in his appearance." + +"He takes more pains with his dress." + +"That helps, of course." + +"My hair is very good yet, Isabel." + +"You have splendid hair, and fine eyes. Properly dressed you would not +look over twenty-two years old." + +"You think so, because you love me a little." + +"I love you better than I love anything else. We have suffered a great +deal together. I do not mean afflictions and big troubles, but a +lifelong, never-lifted repression and depression, and a perfect +starvation of heart and soul." + +"Not soul, Isabel. We could always go to the Kirk, and we had our Bible +and good books, and the like." + +"It was all dead comfort. There was no life, no love in it." + +"Maybe it was our fault, perhaps we ought to have stood up for our +rights. Girls have begun to do so now." + +"We may be to blame, who knows? Good-night." + +Three weeks after this conversation, Robert came to Campbelton for his +mother and sisters. He was in the same glad mood, and what was still +more remarkable, patient and cheerful with all the small worries and +explanations and contradictory directions of Mrs. Campbell. She was +carrying back to Glasgow two Skye terriers, a tortoise-shell cat, +presents of kippered herring and cheeses, and, above all, a tiny +marmoset monkey given her by a third cousin, who was master of a sailing +vessel trading to South American ports. She was immoderately fond and +proud of this gift, and no one but Robert was allowed to carry the +basket in which it was cradled in soft wool. + +But encumbered on every hand and charged continually about this, that, +and the other, Robert kept his temper better than his sisters; and at +length, with the help of two or three vehicles, brought all safely to +Traquair House. Now, if Mrs. Campbell had thus loaded and impeded +herself and her whole family for the very purpose of making their entry +into the renovated home a scene of confusion, in which it was impossible +to observe things, she could not have succeeded better. Christina, +indeed, uttered an exclamation of delight, but the great interest of all +parties was to get rid of their various impediments. Each of the girls +had a Skye terrier, Mrs. Campbell had the cat, Robert the marmoset, and +there were bundles, bonnet boxes, parcels, umbrellas, parasols, rugs, +etc., all to be carried in, counted, and checked off Mrs. Campbell's +list of her belongings. + +But in an hour the confusion had settled, and by the time the travellers +had removed their hats and wraps and washed and dressed, a good dinner +was on the table. It put every one in a more agreeable temper, and when +they had eaten it, there was still light enough to examine the changes +that had been made. Mrs. Campbell declared she was tired, but she could +not resist the offer of Robert's arm and the way in which he said: +"Come, mother, I shall not be happy without your approval; I never knew +you to be tired with any day's work, no matter how it might tire +others." + +The compliment won her. She rose instantly, and leaning on her son's arm +passed into the hall. It had been dark and gloomy, though fairly +handsome. It was now finished in the palest shades, was light and airy +and looked much larger. Where the cases of impaled beetles and crucified +butterflies had stood, there were pots of ferns and flowers, and the +special furniture necessary was of light woods and modern designs. All +the rooms leading from this hall were richly and elegantly furnished; +the same idea of lightness and gracefulness being admirably carried out. +Nothing had been forgotten, even the most trivial toilet articles were +present in their most beautiful form. Isabel lifted some of these, and +asked: "How did you know about such things, Robert?" + +"I did not know, Isabel," he answered, "but I went to a place where such +things are sold, and told them to fit a lady's toilet perfectly, with +all that ladies use and desire. Theodora may not like the perfumes; +indeed, I do not think she uses perfume of any kind, but they can be +sent back, or changed." + +"Well, Robert," said Mrs. Campbell, when all apartments had been +examined, "these rooms are fit for a queen, and many a poor queen never +had anything half so splendid and comfortable. Theodora will be +confounded by their richness and beauty. I should say she never saw +anything like them." + +"Indeed, you are mistaken, mother. I met her first at John Priestley's, +Member of Parliament for Sheffield, where she was the guest of his +daughter, and in their mansion the rooms are much handsomer than +anything we have here. Theodora has been a guest in some of the finest +manor houses in England. These rooms are quite modest compared with some +she has occupied." + +"I think, then, she will be too fine for this family. But Robert, I can +not, and I will not, change my ways at my time of life. I may be plain +and common--perhaps--I may be vulgar in Theodora's eyes, but----" + +"My dear mother, you are all a woman and a mother should be. You +represent the finest ladies of your generation. Theodora is the fruit +and flower of a later one, different, but no better than your own. You +are everything I want. I would not have you changed in any respect." He +looked into her face with eyes full of love, and gently pressed her arm +against his side. + +Such appreciative words as these were most unusual, and Mrs. Campbell +felt them thrill her heart with pleasure. She even half-resolved to try +to like Robert's wife, and spoke enthusiastically about the taste her +son had displayed. In the morning she was still more delighted, for then +she discovered that her own drawing-room had been redecorated, a new +light carpet laid, and many beautiful pieces of furniture added to +brighten its usual gloom. Nor had Isabel's and Christina's rooms been +forgotten; in many ways they had been beautified, and only the family +dining-room had been left in the gloom of its dark, though handsome +furniture. But Robert hoped by the following summer his mother would be +willing to have it totally changed, for he remembered hearing Theodora +say that the room in which people eat ought to be, above all other rooms +in the house, bright, and light, and cheerful. Indeed, she thought it a +matter of well-being to eat under the happiest circumstances possible. + +In the height of the women's delight and gratitude, Robert set off on +his wedding journey. His joy infected the whole house. Even the cross +McNab and the mournful Jepson were heard laughing, and Christina spoke +of this as among the wonderfuls of her existence. Perhaps the one most +pleased was Mrs. Campbell. She had been surrounded by the same +depressing furniture and upholstery for thirty-seven years, and she had +almost a childish pleasure in the new white lace curtains which had been +hung in her rooms. They gave her a sense of youth, of something +unusually happy and hopeful. Many times in a day, she went, unknown to +any one, into the drawing-room and took the fine lace drapery in her +fingers, to examine and admire its beauty. The girls also were more +cheerful. Indeed, the tone of the house had been uplifted and changed, +and all through the influence of more light, some graceful modern +furniture, and a little--alas, that it was so little!--good will and +gratitude. + +On the fifth of October Robert Campbell was married, and about a week +afterwards, Archie St. Claire called one evening upon his family. + +"I have just returned from Kendal," he said, "and I thought you would +like to hear about the wedding. You were none of you there." + +"We had satisfactory reasons for not going," answered Mrs. Campbell. + +"I was Robert's best man." + +"I supposed so. Robert said very little about his arrangements. What do +you think of the bride?" + +"She is a most beautiful woman, fine-natured and sweet-tempered, and +loved by all who come near her. Robert has found a jewel." + +"How was she dressed?" asked Isabel. + +"Perfectly. White satin and lace, of course, but what I liked was the +simplicity of the gown. I heard some one call it a Princess shape. It +fit her beautiful form without a crease, and fell in long soft folds to +her white shoes." + +"White shoes? Nonsense!" ejaculated Mrs. Campbell. + +"White shoes with diamond buckles." + +"Paste buckles more likely." + +"They looked like diamonds. Her veil fell backward and touched the +bottom of her dress." + +"Backward! Then of what use was it? I thought brides wore a veil to +cover their faces." + +"It would have been a sin and a shame to have covered her face. She +looked like an angel. She wore no jewels, and she carried instead of +flowers a small Bible bound in purple velvet and gold." + +"Were there many present?" + +"The streets were crowded, and the church was crowded. The Blue Coat +Boys--a large old school in Kendal--scattered flowers before her as she +walked from the church gates to the altar; and the old rector who had +married her father and mother was quite affected by the ceremony. He +kissed and blessed her at the altar-rail, after it was over." + +"Kissed Robert Campbell's bride. Surely you are joking, Mr. St. +Claire." + +"No, it is a common thing in English churches after the bridal ceremony +if the minister is a friend. It was a solemn and affecting sight." + +"Then her father did not marry her?" + +"He gave her away. He could not have performed the ceremony in the +parish church." + +"Do you mean that she was not married in her father's church?" + +"She was married in the parish church, one of the most beautiful places +of worship I was ever in--a grand old edifice." + +"Do you mean that my son was married in an Episcopal church, at the very +horns of an Episcopal altar?" asked Mrs. Campbell indignantly. + +"It was the most beautiful marriage service I ever saw. And the sweet +old bells chimed so joyously, I can never forget them." + +"Was there a wedding breakfast?" asked Isabel. + +"About twenty guests sat down to a very prettily decorated breakfast +table, and after the meal, Robert and his bride began their journey +through life together. I have brought you some bride cake," and he took +from a box in his hand three smaller white boxes, tied with white +ribbon, and presented them. Mrs. Campbell laid hers unopened on the +table without a word of thanks or courtesy, and Isabel and Christina +followed her example. + +"There was a crowd at the railway station," continued Mr. St. Claire, +"and the Blue Coat Boys met the bride singing a wedding-hymn. Robert +gave them a noble check for their school." + +"I'll warrant he did. The more fool he!" + +"And the last thing they heard as they left Kendal must have been the +church bells chiming joyfully--'_Hail, Happy Morn_'!" + +"Do you know where they went? Robert was not sure when he left +Scotland." + +"I think I do, Mrs. Campbell. They had intended going through the Fife +towns, and by old St. Andrews to Wick, and so to the Orkneys and +Shetlands. But it was late in the season for this trip, so they went to +Paris and the Mediterranean. I think they were right." + +"Paris, of course. All the fools go there!" + +"Well, Mrs. Campbell, Scotland is a bleak place for a honeymoon." + +"Mr. St. Claire, if it does for a man's home, it may do to honeymoon in. +That is my opinion." + +"I don't agree with you, Mrs. Campbell. A honeymoon is a sort of +transcendental existence, and a man naturally wants to spend it as +nearly in Paradise as possible. There's no place like the Mediterranean +for sunshine, and it is poetical and picturesque, and just the place for +lovers." + +Failing, with all his willing good nature, to rouse any apparent +interest in a subject he considered highly interesting, he felt a little +offended, and rose to depart. But ere he reached the parlor door he +turned and said: "I had nearly forgotten one very remarkable thing about +the bride." + +"Let us hear it, by all means," said Mrs. Campbell. + +"I stayed a few days after the marriage, in order to visit Windermere +and Keswick Lake with Mr. Newton--by-the-by, wonderfully beautiful +spots, nothing like them in Scotland--and one day while waiting in his +study, I picked up a book. Imagine my astonishment, when I saw it had +been written by the bride." + +At this information Mrs. Campbell threw up her hands with a laugh that +terminated in something like a shriek. Isabel laid her hand on her +mother's arm, and asked: "Are you ill, mother?" + +"No," she answered promptly. "I am only like Mr. St. Claire, astonished. +I need not have been. Every girl scribbles a little now. Poetry, of +course." + +"You mean Mrs. Campbell's book?" + +"Yes." + +"On the contrary, it was a most learned and interesting study of ancient +and sacred geography." + +"A schoolbook!" and the words were scoffed out with utter contempt. + +"Then a most fascinating one. It gave the Latin and Saxon names of our +own old cities, and all the historical and biographical incidents +connected with them. It treated the names in the Bible and ancient +history in the same way. The preacher was very modest about it, but said +it was now in all the best schools, and that his daughter had quite a +good income from the royalty on its sale. And he added: 'Since you have +discovered her secret, I may tell you that she has written two novels, +and a volume of----'" + +"Plays, I dare say." + +"No, ma'am, of Social Essays." + +"Really, Mr. St. Claire, we can stand no more revelations concerning the +bride's perfections! Robert Campbell is only a master of iron workers +and coal miners, and I fear he will feel painfully his inferiority to +such a marvellously beautiful and intellectual woman. As for myself, and +my poor girls, I can only say--grant us patience!" + +St. Claire bowed, and made a hurried exit. "Ill-natured and envious +creatures as ever I met," he mused. "I'm sorry for Mrs. Robert! She will +have troubles great and small with those women under her roof, and I +wonder if Robert will have the gumption to stand by her. He was always +extraordinarily afraid of his mother. I should be afraid of her myself. +I am thankful my mother isn't the least like her! My mother is made of +love and sweet-temper, and she is more of a lady in her winsey skirt and +linen short gown than Mrs. Traquair Campbell is in all her silk and lace +and jewelry. Thank God for His mercies! The Book says a good wife is +from the Lord. I know, by personal experience, that a good mother is +even more so. I'll just write mother a letter this very night, and tell +her all about the wedding. She will enjoy every word of it, and at the +end say: 'God bless the young things! With His blessing they'll do weel +enough, whatever comes.'" + +There was no blessing in Mrs. Campbell's heart. She looked at her girls +in silence until she heard the closing of the front door, then she +asked: "What do you say to Mr. St. Claire's story?" and Isabel answered: +"I say what you said, mother--grant us patience!" + +"Tut, Isabel! Patience? Nonsense! I think little of that grace. Theodora +may be a beauty, a school-teacher, and an authoress, but we three women +can match her." + +"Whatever made Robert marry her?" + +"That is past speculating about! But she is the man's choice--such as it +is. Doubtless he thinks her without a fault, but, as I told you before, +the bit-by-bitness can soon change that opinion--a little mustard seed +of suspicion or difference of any kind, can grow to a great tree. I'm +telling you! Do not forget what I say. I am just distracted as yet with +the situation. This world is a hard place." + +"I think so too, mother," said Christina, "and it is small comfort to be +told the next is probably worse." + +"I have had lots of trouble in my life, girls, but the worst of all +comes with what your father called 'the lad and lass business.' It was +that drove your brother David beyond seas, and I have not heard a word +from him since he went away one day in a passion. But this or that, mind +you, I have always come out of every tribulation victorious--and there +is now three of us--we shall be hard enough to beat." + +"Theodora has a good many points in her favor," said Christina. + +"Count them up, then; count them up! She is a beauty, a genius, an +Englishwoman, a Methodist, a teacher of women, a writer of books, and no +doubt she will try to set up the golden image of her manifold +perfections in Traquair House--but which of us three will bow down +before it? Tell me! Tell me that, Christina!" + +"Not I, mother." + +"Nor I," added Isabel. + +"Nor I, you may take an oath on that," said Mrs. Campbell. "And what +says the Good Book, 'a threefold cord is not easily broken?' Now you may +give me Dr. Chalmer's last sermons, and I'll take a few words from him +to settle my mind and put me to sleep; for I am fairly distracted with +the prospect of such a monumental woman among us. But I'll say nothing +about her, one way or the other, and then I cannot be blamed. I would +advise you both to be equally prudent." + +But Isabel and Christina were not of their mother's mind. Such a +delightful bit of gossip had never before come into their lives, and +they went to Isabel's room to talk it all over again, for Isabel being +the eldest had the largest and the best furnished room. Isabel made a +social event of it, by placing a little table between them, set with the +special dainties she kept for her private refreshment. And they felt it +to be a friendly and cheerful thing, to have this special woman to +season the rich cates and fruit provided. So it had struck twelve before +Christina rose and remarked: + +"You told me, Isabel, there were going to be changes, and you are right. +The next one will be the home-coming, and I dare say Robert will descend +on us in the most unexpected time and way." + +"You are much mistaken, Christina. I am sure Robert will be telegraphing +Jepson from every station on the road. The most trivial things will be +directed by him. Let us go to bed now; I am sleepy." + +"So am I. Thank you for the good things. They sweetened a disagreeable +subject." + +"Perhaps she may be better than we expect. One can never tell what the +unknown may turn out to be. Mother is inclined to be suspicious of all +strangers," said Isabel. + +"If mother's eyes were out, she would see faults in any one." + +"Perhaps, if they were coming into Traquair House. She does not trouble +herself about people who leave the Campbells alone." + +"She spoke of poor brother David to-night. Did you notice it?" + +"Yes." + +"It was the first time I have heard her mention him since he left us." + +"She has spoken of him to me, three or four times--a word or two--no +more." + +"Do you know where he is?" + +"No." + +"Does mother know?" + +"No." + +"Does any one know?" + +"No. Mother is sure he is dead. I think so myself. He would have written +to Robert if he was alive. He was gey fond of Robert." + +"I was at school when he went away. I never heard why he went, for when +I came home I was forbidden to name him. Did he do anything wrong?" + +"No, no! You must not suppose such a thing. He was the most loving and +honorable of men." + +"Then why did he go away? Do you know?" + +"Yes, I know all about it." + +"Tell me, Isabel. I will never name the subject again. What did he do?" + +"Just what Robert has done--married a girl not wanted in the family." + +"Who was the girl? Why was she not wanted?" + +"Her name was Agnes Symington. She was a minister's daughter." + +"Was she pretty?" + +"Very pretty, and good and sweet as a woman could be." + +"Pretty, and good, and sweet, and a minister's daughter! What more did +mother want?" + +"Money." + +"Was she poor?" + +"Yes. Her father was dead, and she had learned dressmaking to support +her mother and herself. She came to make our winter dresses, and David +saw her and loved her. Though she was a minister's daughter, mother had +always sent her to the servants' table, and she was nearly mad to +think David had married a girl from the servants' table. It was +disgraceful--in a way. The servants talked, and so did every one that +knew us. But David loved her, and when he went he took both Agnes and +her mother with him." + +"What did father say?" + +"He took David's part. He took it angrily. He amazed us. He sold David's +share in the works for him, and so let strangers into the company, and +he sent him away with his blessing, and plenty of money. David was +crying when he bid father good-bye; and father was never the same after +David left. We always believed that father knew where he went, and that +he heard from him, through Mr. Oliphant or Dr. Robertson. But mother +could get no words from him about David, except 'The boy did right. God +pity the man whose wife is chosen for him!' I think father had to marry +mother to save the works. I think so; I was not told it as a fact. Do +not breathe a word of what I have told you. It is a dead story. David +and father are both gone, and I dare say David's wife is married again." + +"Thank you for telling me the story, Isabel. I will keep your +confidence. Do not doubt it. I do not blame David. I think he did right. +I wish I could do the same thing. I----" + +"Good-night!" + +"I would run away to-morrow." + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE BRIDE'S HOME-COMING + + +Robert Campbell's home-coming was after the fashion Isabel had supposed +it would be. On the eighth of November, Jepson received a telegram from +him before nine in the morning, ordering fires to be kept burning +brightly all day in his rooms. At eleven there was another telegram, +directing Jepson to have the ferns and plants in the hall renewed, and +flowers in vases put in the parlor and Mrs. Campbell's dressing-room. At +two o'clock Jepson's message contained the information that Mr. and Mrs. +Campbell would be at the Caledonian Railway Station at half-past three +o'clock, and they would expect the carriage there for them. + +So when Theodora arrived at Traquair House, she was met by Jepson with +obsequious attentions, the door was wide open to receive her, and the +rooms were shining and glowing with light and warmth and beauty. Thus +far, all her expectations were realized, but she missed the human +welcome which ought to have vitalized its material symbols. Robert was +evidently annoyed at the absence of his mother and sisters, and he asked +sharply after them. + +"They went to their rooms after lunch, sir, before I had time to inform +them of the train you specified," Jepson answered. + +Campbell seemed glad of so reasonable an excuse, and, turning to +Theodora, said: "You must have a cup of tea, dear, and then rest for a +couple of hours. I dare say we shall see no one before dinner. I suppose +dinner is at seven, Jepson?" + +"Yes, sir. Seven o'clock exactly, sir." + +After her cup of tea Theodora went through their rooms with her husband +and was charmed with everything that had been done for her comfort. +"Robert," she said, "there is nothing wanting in these rooms. Everything +I could desire is here, except the smile and the kind words of welcome +to them from your family." + +"Those will come later, my sweet Dora. The Scotch are slow and +undemonstrative. My mother and sisters always retire to their rooms +after lunch, and it is extremely difficult for them to break a habit. +That is their way." + +"If habits are kind and good, it is a very good way--in its way. But do +you not think, Robert, that a little spontaneity is sometimes a +refreshing and comforting thing?" + +"It may be, but our temperaments are not spontaneous. Now, try and sleep +before you dress. I will come for you at two minutes before seven. Be +sure you are ready! Mother waits for no one, not even myself." + +But in spite of all the thoughtful care which her husband had taken for +her comfort, Theodora was invaded by a feeling of melancholy. Her heart +sank fathoms deep, and she could not follow his advice to sleep. She +felt chilled and depressed by the atmosphere she was breathing--an +atmosphere impregnated with the personalities of people inimical to her. +Being conscious of this hostility, she began to reason about it, a thing +in itself unwise; for happiness should never be analyzed. + +Very soon she became aware of the futility of her thoughts. "They lead +me to no certain end, for I am reasoning from premises unknown to me," +she said to herself. "I have heard of these three women, but I have not +seen them. I will wait until we look at each other face to face." + +Then she called her maid, a fresh, honest-hearted girl from the +Westmoreland fells, whom she had hired in Kendal. "Ducie," she said, +"have you been in the kitchen yet?" + +"Oh yes, ma'am. They are a queer lot there. Only one old man had a good +word for any of the family. They were asking me if you knew that the +Crawfords of Campbelton had been occupying your rooms for two weeks. +'Plenty of hurrying and scurrying,' they said, 'to get them away and put +the rooms in order, and the old lady beside herself with anger, at Mr. +Campbell not giving a longer notice of his coming.'" + +"Mr. Campbell gave plenty of time, if the rooms had not been occupied." + +"And, if you please, ma'am, the trunks sent here from Kendal just after +your marriage have all been opened, and I may say, ma'am--ransacked. +Every thing in them is pell-mell, and the dresses not folded straight, +and the neckwear and such like, topsy-turvy. And, ma'am, your beautiful +ermine furs have been worn, for they are soiled; other things look +likewise. I don't know what to make of such ways, I'm sure." + +To this information Theodora listened in dismay and anger. It seemed to +her such an incredible outrage on decency, honor, and even honesty. She +rose instantly and went to look at her trunks. Ducie had made a very +moderate complaint. It was only necessary to lift the lids to convince +herself that the accusation was a just one. For a moment or two she +stood looking at the disarranged garments; her face flushed, she locked +her fingers together, and was speechless. Then she sat down to consider +the circumstance, and her lovely face had on it an expression +half-pleading and half-defiant. It was the face of a woman you could +hurt, but could not move. + +In half-an-hour she called Ducie. "Do not touch the four trunks that +were sent here from Kendal," she said. "Open the one we had with us, and +take from it my steel-blue silk costume, and my set of pearls." + +"Will you wear the silk waist, ma'am?" + +"No, the lace waist of the same color. And, Ducie, keep silence +concerning all you see and hear in these rooms. I know you will do so, +but it does no harm to remind you, for you are not used to living among +a crowd of servants, and might fall into some trap set for you. Just +remember, Ducie, that every word you say will likely be repeated, for +we are in a strange country and in a way among strangers." + +"I know, ma'am. New relations are not like old ones. The old ones feel +comfortable like old clothes; the new ones, like new clothes, need a +deal of taking in and letting out to make them fit." + +"That is so, Ducie. I am a little annoyed about the open trunks, +but--but, I must dress now, or I will be late." + +"I wouldn't be annoyed, ma'am, for brooding over annoyances just hatches +more; and I will have little to say to any one. You may trust me. I will +be as good as my word." + +Theodora dressed carefully, and when Robert came for her he was charmed +with the quiet beauty of her costume. "It is just right, Dora," he said, +"perhaps the pearls are a little too much." + +"Oh no, Robert. The dress requires them. They are like moonlight on it, +and make each other lovelier." + +"Come, then, we have not a moment to lose. It will strike seven +immediately." + +They entered the dining-room as it struck the hour. Mrs. Traquair +Campbell had taken her seat at the foot of the table, and Robert with +his bride on his arm walked to her side and said: + +"Mother, this is Theodora. I hope you will give her your love and +welcome." + +Mrs. Campbell did not rise, but, looking into Theodora's face, asked: +"Had you a pleasant journey? Are you tired? Railroads are fatiguing +kind of travel." + +That was all. She did not say one kind word of welcome, nor did she +offer her hand. In fact, she had lifted the carving knife as they +entered the room, and she kept it in her grasp. Then Robert took her to +his sisters, and as Isabel sat on one side of the table, and Christina +on the other, the introduction had to be made three times. In each case +it was about the same, for the girls copied both their mother's attitude +and her words. + +But all were frank and friendly with Robert, asking him many questions +about the places they had visited, and as he invariably referred some +part of these queries to Theodora, she was drawn unavoidably into the +conversation. Very soon the desire to conquer these women by the force +and magnetism of love came into her heart, and she smiled into their +dark, cold faces, and discoursed with such charming grace and social +sympathy, that the frost presently began to thaw, and Isabel found +herself asking the unwelcome bride all kinds of questions about their +travel, and saying at last with a sigh: "How much I should have liked to +have been with you!" + +"I am sorry you were not with us," answered Theodora, "but we shall go +again to the Mediterranean--for we only got glimpses of places and +things, and must know them better. We shall go again, shall we not, +Robert?" + +Then Robert denied all his promises and said: "I fear not, for a long +time. Business must be attended to." + +"I am glad you are regaining your senses, Robert," said his mother. +"Your business has been dreadfully neglected for more than half-a-year." + +"It has taken no harm, mother, and I shall double my attention now." + +"I hope you will--but I doubt it." + +"Dora," said Christina, "may I call you Dora?" + +"Dora, certainly," interrupted Mrs. Traquair Campbell. "Theodora is too +long a name for conversation. Do you wish any more ice? Do you, Isabel?" + +Theodora was confounded by such rude and positive ignoring. The question +had been addressed to her, and referred to her Christian name--the most +personal of all belongings. Yet it had been peremptorily decided for her +without any regard to her right or wish. Her cheeks flushed hotly, and +she looked at her husband. Surely he would spare her the distressing +position of denying her mother-in-law's decision, or affirming her own. +But Robert Campbell was as one that heard not. His eyes were upon his +plate, and he was embarrassed even in the simple act of eating. At that +moment she had almost a contempt for him. But seeing that he did not +intend to interfere, she smiled at Christina, and said: + +"You will call me Dora, I suppose, as you are bid to do so, and when I +feel like it, I shall answer to that name. When I do not feel disposed +to answer to Dora, I shall be silent. That is, you know, my privilege." +She spoke with a smile and charming manner, and then, looking at her +husband, rose from the table. Robert sauntered after her, making some +remark about tea to his mother as he passed her. + +She could not answer him. This leave-taking, unauthorized by her +example, stupefied the elder woman. "Do you see, Isabel," she cried, +"what I shall have to endure?" + +"Dinner was really finished, mother." + +"That makes no difference! No one has a right to leave the table until I +rise. I consider Dora's behavior a piece of impertinence." + +"I do not think she intended it to be impertinent." + +"Her intention makes no difference. No one has a right to leave my table +until I set the example. And if Dora's behavior was not impertinent, +then it was stupid ignorance, and I shall instruct her in the decencies +of respectable life. And I tell you both to remember that her name is +Dora. I will have no Theodoras here. Fancy people going about the house +calling 'The-o-do-ra.' Ridiculous!" + +"Well, mother, I ask leave to say that I should not like any one without +my permission to call me Bell, nor do I believe Christina would care to +be called Kirsty. And I really think Robert's wife wished to be +agreeable, and even friendly, if we had encouraged her. Why not give her +a fair trial? I think she could teach Christina and myself many +things." + +"I think you are bewitched as well as your brother. I never knew you, +Isabel, to make any exceptions to my opinions--or to see me insulted +without feeling a proper indignation with me." + +"Oh, dear mother, you are mistaken! The day will never come when your +daughter Isabel will not stand shoulder to shoulder with you." + +"I am sure of that. I wish Christina had not asked such an obtrusive +question. I had to answer it as I did, in order to show that woman that +we--in our own home here--would call her just what we preferred to call +her, without let or hindrance; yet I wish that Christina had kept her +foolish question for a little longer. I was hardly ready for active +opposition. It is premature. Christina always interferes at the wrong +moment." So Christina, snubbed and blamed for her malapropos question, +subsided into sullen indifference externally, while inwardly passing on +the blame for her correction to Theodora, who, she decided, was going to +be unlucky to her. + +In the meantime Robert had walked with his wife to the parlor door of +their own apartments, but he did not enter with her. "I am going to +leave you half-an-hour, Dora," he said. "I wish to smoke a cigar in the +library." + +"I should like to go with you, Robert, as I have always done. I enjoy +good tobacco." + +"Walking on some lovely balcony, overlooking the Mediterranean, it was +pleasant; but here it is not the thing. If you went with me, I might +have the whole family, as the library, like the dining-room, is common +ground. Circumstances alter cases, Dora. You know that, my dear! I will +return in half-an-hour." + +She had a slight struggle with herself to answer pleasantly, but that +free and loving thing, the human soul, was in Theodora's case under kind +but positive control, so she replied with a smile: + +"As you wish, dear Robert--yet I shall miss you." + +She was alone in her splendid rooms, and her heart fell. The day had +been a hard one. From the moment they left Kendal, Robert had been +disagreeably silent. He knew that he was going home to a struggle with +his family, and he dreaded the experience. Had it been a struggle with +business difficulties he would have risen bravely to its demands. A +dispute with women irritated him. In his thoughts he called it +"trivial." But had he known all that such a dispute generally involves, +he would have sought out for it the most portentous and distracting word +in all the languages of earth. + +So Theodora left to herself sat down with a sinking heart. The change in +her husband's temper troubled her; the total absence of all human +welcome to her new home troubled her still more. The occupation of her +rooms by strangers, the rifling of her trunks, the half-quarrelsome +dinner, the despotic changing of her name might be--as compared with +death, accident, or ruin--"trivial" troubles, but she was poignantly +wounded in her feelings by them. And their crowning grief was one she +hardly dared to remember--her husband's failure to defend the name he +had so often passionately sworn he loved better than all other names. +True, she had permitted him to call her Dora, but that was a secret, +sacred, pet name, to be used between themselves, and by that very +understanding denied to all others. + +She could not but admit to herself that she was bitterly disappointed in +her home-coming. She had thought Robert's mother and sisters would meet +her on the threshold with kisses and words of welcome. She had yet to +learn the paucity of kisses and tender words in a Scotch household. The +fact is general, but the causes for this familiar repression are +various, and may be either good or evil. Theodora felt them in her case +to be altogether unkind. What could she do about it? There was the +perilous luxury of complaint to her husband and there was her father's +lifelong advice: "Shut up a trouble in your heart, and you will soon +sing over it." Which course should she take? She was waiting for a true +instinct, a clear, lawful perception, when Robert entered the room. + +She looked up with a smile that brought him swiftly to her side, and +when he spoke kindly, all her fearing discontent slipped away. Very soon +their conversation turned naturally to their apartments. Robert was +proud of them, not so much for the money lavished on their adornment, as +for the taste he thought himself to have shown. Going here and there in +them, he happened to find, on a beautiful cabinet, an old curl paper +and a couple of bent hairpins. + +"Look here, Dora," he said, and his voice was so full of displeasure, +that she rose hastily and went to him. + +"What kind of maid have you hired? She ought to know better than to +leave these things in your parlor." + +"And you ought to know better, Robert," was the indignant answer, "than +to suppose these things belong to me. Do I ever put my hair in newspaper +twists? Do I ever fasten it with dirty, rusty, wire pins like these?" + +"Then tell Ducie to keep her pins and curl papers in her own room." + +"They are not Ducie's. She would not put such dreadful things in her +pretty hair." + +"How do they come here, then?" + +"I suppose the people who have been occupying these rooms left them." + +"No one has occupied these rooms since they were redecorated and +refurnished." + +"You are mistaken, Robert. They have been fully occupied for the last +three weeks." + +"Dora, what are you saying?" + +"The truth! Call any of your servants, and they will tell you so." + +Without further words he rang the bell, and Ducie appeared. "Ducie," he +asked, "who told you there had been people staying in these rooms?" + +"The kitchen, sir; that is, the men and women in the kitchen. I was +taken all aback, for my lady had told me----" + +"Do you know who the people were?" + +"Mrs. and Miss Crawford, Mrs. Laird and her granddaughter, Miss +Greenhill." + +"Oh, they were relations, Dora," he said in a voice which indicated they +had a right there, and that he was neither grieved nor astonished at +their invasion of his apartments. + +"If you please, sir," interposed Ducie, "my lady's trunks were all +opened by Mrs. Crawford and the rest. It gave me such a turn!" + +"The rest? Who do you mean?" + +"Miss Crawford, Mrs. Laird, and Miss Greenhill." + +"Then give the ladies their proper names." + +"Yes, sir, Mrs. and Miss Crawford, Mrs. Laird, and Miss Greenhill have +opened and ransacked all the four trunks belonging to my lady, which +were sent on here directly after her marriage. She had given me the keys +of them, and when I saw them open it fairly took my breath away. I am +afraid many things are destroyed, and some things that cost no end of +money stolen. Not liking to be blamed for the same, I wish the matter +looked into." + +"Stolen! You should be careful how you use such a word." + +"Sir, excuse me, but people who open locked trunks, and use and destroy +what is not theirs are just as likely as not to carry off what they +want. My character is in danger, sir. I wish the trunks examined." + +"I suppose you have been through them." + +"No, indeed, sir. When my lady went to her dinner, I called in one of +the kitchen girls. I wanted a witness that I had never touched them." + +"How dare you make such charges, then?" + +"Ask my lady." + +"Dora, is there any truth in this girl's words?" + +"I fear she speaks too truly, Robert. I have only looked cursorily +through one trunk, but I found much fine clothing spoiled, and I fear +some jewelry gone. The ruby and sapphire ring given me by my college +history class as a wedding gift is not in the jewel case it was packed +in, and my turquoise necklace was scattered among my neckwear. It ought +to have been in the jewel box." + +"Perhaps you forgot in the hurry of packing where you put it." + +"I was not hurried. Those four trunks were all leisurely and carefully +packed, and the day we left Kendal for Paris----" + +"You mean our wedding-day?" + +"Yes." + +"Then why do you avoid saying so!" + +"I do not, but on that same day these four trunks were forwarded here. +If you remember, I only took one trunk on our--wedding journey. I +supposed these four would be quite safe in this house. But look here, +Robert," she continued, lifting a set of valuable ermine furs, "these +were given me by Mrs. Priestley. They were of the most exquisite +purity, but they look now as if they had been dipped in a light solution +of Indian ink." + +"The Glasgow rain," he answered carelessly. "Ducie, I do not think we +shall blame you." + +"Sir, I will take no blame, either about things spoiled, or stolen." + +"There is no question of theft. If the ladies using these rooms for a +day or two----" + +"For three weeks, sir." + +"Used also some clothing found in the rooms----" + +"Not found, sir, I beg pardon, but locked trunks were opened for them, +which the men in the kitchen say is clear burglary--perhaps wishing to +frighten me, sir. But this way, or that way, sir, things have been +ruined that cost no end of money, and when I saw my lady's spoiled gowns +and furs, and broken jewelry, they fairly took my breath away! Yes, sir, +they did." + +"You may go now, Ducie." + +"I cannot and will not be blamed, sir, and I want that fact clear." + +"You may go, now. I have told you that once before. If I have to tell +you again, you can leave the house altogether." + +"Ducie," said Theodora, "I wish you would look after clean linen for the +beds and dressing tables." + +"What is the matter with the linen, Dora?" + +"It is not clean. It looks as if it had been used for two or three +weeks." + +"Are you sure?" + +"Look at it! I can do without many things, Robert, but I cannot do +without clean linen." + +"Of course not! It is awfully provoking. I tried so hard to have +everything spotlessly clean and comfortable, but----" He turned away +with an air of angry disappointment. + +Dora went to his side and praised again all he had done. She said she +would forget all that was spoiled, or broken, or stolen for his sake, +and for sweet love's sake, and she emphasized all her tender words with +kisses and endearing names. + +And she found, as many women find, that the more she renounced her just +displeasure and chagrin the harder it was to conciliate her husband's. +Whether he enjoyed Dora's efforts to comfort him, or was really of that +childish temper which gets more and more injured, as it is more and more +consoled, it was at this stage of her married life impossible for +Theodora to decide. However, in a little while he condescended to +forgive Theodora for the annoyances others had caused him, and said: "It +is later than I thought it. We have forgotten tea." + +"I do not want any." + +"I am going to speak to mother. Shall I send you a cup?" + +"No, thank you. Do not stop long, Robert." + +She went to the window and looked out into the dreary night. A heavy +rain was falling, and not a star was visible in that muffled atmosphere. +Sorrowful feelings pervaded all her thoughts, and she asked her soul +eagerly for some password out of the tangle of small trials, which like +brambles made her path difficult and painful. For the circumstances in +which she so suddenly found herself, confounded and troubled her. Had +Robert deceived her? Had she been deceived in Robert? + +It was, however, a consciousness of having fallen below herself, which +hurt her worst of all. She had made concessions, where concession was +wrong; she had made apologies for her husband, whereas he ought to have +made them to her. + +"I have been weak," she whispered to her Inner Woman, and that truthful +monitor replied: + +"_To be weak is to be wicked._" + +"I have resigned my just rights and my just anger." + +"_And so have encouraged others to be unjust and unkind, and to sin +against you._" + +"And I have gained nothing by my cowardly self-sacrifice." + +"_Nothing but humiliation and suffering, which you deserve._" + +"What can I do?" + +"_Retrace your first wrong step, in order to take your first right +step._" + +Ere this mental catechism was finished, Ducie entered the rooms with her +arms full of clean linen, and Theodora said: "I see you have got the +linen, Ducie. Make up my bed first." + +"Got it! Yes, ma'am, after a fight for it. The chambermaid was willing +enough, but madame held the keys, and madame said the beds had been +changed four days ago, and she would not have them changed but once a +week. I refused to go away, and the girl went back to her, and was +ordered to leave the room. Then I went, and told her that whether she +was willing or unwilling I had to have clean linen, as the beds had been +stripped, and Mr. Campbell wanted to go to sleep, and Mrs. Campbell had +a headache. Then she flew into a passion, and I do not think I durst +have stayed in her presence longer, but Mr. Campbell was heard coming, +so she flung the keys to one of the young ladies, and told her to 'see +to it.' Then I had a fresh fight for pillow-cases, and covers for the +dressing tables, and I was told to remember that I would get no more +linen for a week. 'Fresh linen once a week is the rule in this house,' +the young lady said, 'and no rules will be broken for Mrs. Robert. You +can tell her Miss Campbell said so.'" + +"Well, Ducie, we must look out for ourselves. I will buy linen +to-morrow, and then we can change every day in the week, if we want to." + +Robert had been requested not to stay long, but his interview with his +mother proved to be both long and stormy. The old lady had felt the +irritation of the dinner table, and though she herself was wholly to +blame for its quarrelsome atmosphere, she was not influenced by a truth +she chose to ignore. Ever since dinner she had been talking to her +daughters of Theodora, and her smouldering dislike was now a flaming +one. The application for clean linen had made her furious, and she was +scolding about it when Robert entered the room. But he knew before he +opened the door of his mother's parlor what he had to meet, and the +dormant demon of his own temper roused itself for the encounter. He went +into her presence with a face like a thundercloud, and asked angrily: + +"Why did you let any one--I say any one--into my rooms, mother? I think +their occupancy without my permission a scandalous piece of business." + +"Keep your temper, Robert Campbell, for your wife. She will need it, I +warrant." + +"Answer my question, if you please!" + +"Well, then, if it is scandalous to entertain your kindred, it would +have been much more scandalous to have turned them out of the house." + +"Kindred! It is a far cry to call kindred with that Crawford and Laird +crowd. I will not have them here! Take notice of that." + +"They will come here when they come to Glasgow." + +"Then I shall turn them out." + +"Then I shall go out with them." + +"My rooms----" + +"Preserve us! No harm has been done to your rooms." + +"They have been defiled in every way--old curl papers, dirty hairpins, +stains on the carpets and covers. I burn with shame when I think of my +wife seeing their vulgar remains." + +"Your wife? Your wife, indeed! She is----" + +"I don't want your opinion of my wife." + +"You born idiot! What do you want?" + +"I want you to write to the women who opened my wife's trunks, and +ruined her clothing, and stole her jewelry, or I----" + +"Don't you dare to throw '_or_' at me. I can say '_or_' as big as you. +What before earth and heaven are you saying!" + +"That my rooms have been entered, my wife's trunks broken open----" + +"You have said that once already! I had the Dalkeiths in my spare rooms. +Was I to turn the Crawfords and the Lairds on to the sidewalk because +your rooms had been refurnished for Dora Newton?" + +"Campbell is my wife's name." + +"I thank God your kindred had the first use of your rooms! You ought to +be glad of the circumstance. And pray, what harm is there in opening a +bride's trunks?" + +"Only burglary." + +"Don't be a tenfold fool. A bride's costumes are always examined by her +women kin and friends. My trunks were all opened by the Campbells before +your father brought me home. Every Scotch bride expects it, and if you +have married a poor, silly English girl, who knows nothing of the ways +and manners of your native country, I am not to blame." + +"Let me tell you----" + +"Let me finish, sir. I wish to say there was nothing in Dora Newton's +trunks worth looking at--home-made gowns, and the like." + +"Yet two of them have been worn and ruined." + +"Jean Crawford and Bell Greenhill wore them a few times. They wanted to +go to the theatre or somewhere, and had not brought evening gowns with +them. I told them to wear some of Dora's things. Why not? She is in the +family now, more's the pity." + +"They had no right to touch them." + +"I'm sure I wish they had not worn them. Jean and Bell are +stylish-looking girls in their own gowns. Dora's made them look dowdy +and common. I was fairly sorry for them." + +"Which of them wore Theodora's ring? That ring must come back--_must_, I +say. Understand me, mother, it must come back." + +"If it is lost----" + +"It will be a case for the police--sure as death!" + +The oath frightened her. "You have lost your senses, Robert," she cried; +"you are fairly bewitched. And oh, what a miserable woman I am! Both my +lads!" and she covered her face with her handkerchief, and began to sigh +and sob bitterly. + +Then Isabel went to her mother's side, and as she did so said with +scornful anger: + +"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Robert Campbell. You have nearly +broken your mother's heart by your disgraceful marriage. Can you not +make Dora behave decently, and not turn the old home and our poor +simple lives upside down, with all she requires?" + +"Isabel, do you think it was right to put people in the rooms I had +spent so much time and money in furnishing?" + +"Quite right, seeing the people were our own kindred. It was not right +to spend all the time and money you spent on those rooms for a stranger. +You ought to be glad some of your own family got a little pleasure in +them first of all." + +"They did not know how to use them. Both the Crawfords and Lairds are +vulgar, common, and uneducated women. They know nothing of the decencies +of life." + +"That may be true, but they are mother's kin, and blood is thicker than +water. The Crawfords and Lairds are blood-kin; Dora is only water." + +"Theodora is my wife. I see that mother will no longer listen to me. Try +and convince her that I am in earnest. My rooms are _my_ rooms, and no +one comes into them unless they are invited by Theodora or myself. My +wife's clothing and ornaments of all kinds belong to my wife, and not to +the whole family. Write to Jean Crawford, and Bell Greenhill, and tell +them to return all they have taken, or I shall make them do so." + +"I suppose, Robert, they have only borrowed whatever they have. They +often borrow my rings and brooches and even my dresses." + +"Isabel, when people borrow even a ring, without the knowledge and +consent of the owner, the law calls it stealing; and the person who has +so borrowed it, the law calls a thief. I hope you understand me." + +He was leaving the room when his mother sobbed out: "Oh, Robert, +Robert!" + +For a moment he hesitated; then he went to her side and asked: "What is +it you wish, mother?" + +"I did not mean--to hurt you--I was brought up so different. I thought +it would be all right--with you--that you, at least--would understand. I +expected you knew--all about the marriage customs--you are Scotch. Oh, +dear, dear! My poor heart--will break!" + +He touched her hand kindly and answered: "Well, do not cry, mother, I +will say no more about it. Good-night." + +"Good (sob) night (sob), Robert!" + +But as soon as the door closed, the furious woman flung down her +handkerchief in a rage, saying in low, passionate tones: "You see, +girls! When you can't reason with a man, can't touch his brain, you may +try crying about him, for perhaps he has something he calls a heart." + +Returning to his own apartments Robert found that the lights had been +lowered and that Theodora was apparently asleep. He stood looking at her +a few minutes, but decided not to awaken her. She would, he thought, +want to know all that had been said and he was tired of the subject. His +mother's tears had washed all color and vitality out of it. She believed +herself to be right and from her point of view he admitted she was. He +told himself that Theodora did not comprehend the wonderful complexity +of the Scotch character--he must try and teach her. And as for her +destroyed, or lost adornments, they could be replaced. Of course money +would be, as it were, lost in such replacement, but it would be a good +lesson, and lessons of all kinds take money. Thus, by a new road, he had +come back to the usual Campbell appreciation of the Campbells, for +though he was keenly alive to the individual defects of that large +family he was at the same time conscious of their superiority to the +rest of the world. + +In the morning he began to give Theodora the lesson he had himself +absorbed. He told her that it was some of their own relatives who had +occupied the rooms, and then explained the wonderful strength of the +family tie in Scotch families. "I think," he added, "that under the +circumstances, mother did the only possible thing." + +"And the opening of my trunks, Robert dear, and the use of my clothing, +is that also a result of the Scotch family tie?" + +"Yes-s," he answered with easy composure, "they looked on you as one of +us and supposed you would gladly loan what they needed. Isabel says they +often borrow her brooches and rings and gowns. Moreover, mother informed +me, that it is the common custom to open a bride's trunks, and examine +her belongings." + +"A very rude and barbarous custom, I think, Robert, and it makes no +excuse for an infringement of manifest courtesy and kindness. And I am +sure that every one can forgive an injury, easier than an infringement +of their rights." + +"You must try and look at the matter reasonably, dear Dora." + +"You mean unreasonably, Robert, but if you do not care, why should I?" +Robert made no reply, but went on examining his fingernails, apparently +without noticing the look of pained surprise in his wife's eyes, nor yet +the far deeper sign of distress--that dumb lip-biting which indicates an +intensity of outraged feeling. + +This was Theodora's first lesson in the complexities of the Scotch +character, and it was a dear one. It cost her many illusions, many +hopes, and some secret tears. And the gain was doubtful. Nature knows +how to profit from every shower of rain, every glint of sunshine, every +drop of dew; but which of us ever learn from any past experience, how to +prepare a future that will give us what we desire? + +During the night she had plumbed the depths of depression, but in a +short deep morning sleep, she had found the strength to possess her +soul, not in patience, but in a sweet, firm resistance. She would accept +cheerfully the lot she had chosen, for to bear dumbly and passively the +many petty wrongs which ill-temper and dislike must bring her would only +tempt those who hated her to a continuance and enlargement of their sin. +Every one, even her husband, would despise her, and she suddenly +remembered how God, when He would reason with Job, bid him rise from +his dunghill, stand upon his feet, and answer Him like a man. So, she +would submit to no injustice, nor suffer without contradiction any lying +accusation, yet her weapons of defence should be kind and clean, and her +victory won by love and truth and honor--for in this way she herself +would rise by + + --"_the things put under her feet, + By what she mastered of good and gain, + By the pride deposed, by the passion slain, + And the vanquished ills she would hourly meet._" + +The prospect of such a victory made her heart swell with a noble joy, +for thus she would be creating her spiritual self, and so being God-like +be also loved of God. + +Her first effort was to compel herself to go to the breakfast table. She +wished to have Ducie bring her a cup of coffee and a couple of rolls to +her room, but that would only be shirking the inevitable. So she went to +the family table smiling, and almost radiant in a pretty pink gown, and +beautiful white muslin neckwear. Her manner was cheerful and +conciliatory, but it utterly failed, because the old lady believed it to +be the result of orders from her son. She was sure Robert had seen the +reasonableness of her conduct, and told Theodora to accept the +circumstances as unavoidable, and perhaps even excusable. + +So in spite of her smiles and efforts at conversation, the meal was +silent and unhappy and towards the end really distressing. It had begun +with oatmeal porridge served on large dinner plates, and she had +accepted her share without remark, though unable to eat it. But later, +when a dish of boiled salt herring appeared, its peculiar odor made her +so sick that it was with painful difficulty she sat through the meal. +Robert noticed her white face and general air of distress, and slightly +hurried his own meal in consequence. + +"Are you ill, Dora?" he asked, when she fell nauseated and limp among +the sofa cushions. + +"It was the smell of the salt fish, Robert. I could not conquer it." + +"But you must try. We have boiled salt herring every morning. I do not +remember a breakfast without them." + +"Then, dear Robert, I must have a cup of coffee in my dressing-room." + +"You might learn to bear the smell." + +"The ordeal would be too wasteful of life." + +"I don't see----" + +"No one can afford a disagreeable breakfast, Robert. It spoils the whole +day. And I might waste weeks and months trying to like the odor of +boiled salt herring, and never succeed--it is sickening to me." + +"It does not make me sick. I have had a boiled salt herring to breakfast +ever since I was seven years old." + +"You have learned to bear them." + +"I like them." + +"Did you like them at first?" + +"No, but I was made to eat them until at last I learned to relish them. +Mother believed them to be good for me. Now, I do not think my breakfast +perfect without a boiled salt herring." + +"We can force nature to take, and even enjoy poisons like whiskey and +opium, but I think such an education sinful and unclean." + +"Dora, you are too fastidious." + +"No, because a wronged body means something to a sensitive soul." + +"If you look at such a small thing in a light so important, you had +better take your breakfast alone. Good-morning!" + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +FOES IN THE HOUSEHOLD + + +She was ill for some hours, and all day much troubled at the +circumstance. In her proposed fight against the hatred of her husband's +family she had lost the first move, for she could well imagine the +triumphant mockery of her mother-in-law over her weakness and +squeamishness. In the afternoon she asked for the carriage, as she +wished to do some shopping, and was told Mrs. Campbell was intending to +use it. Then she sent for a cab and while she was dressing, Christina +came into her room wearing her street costume. + +"Isabel is going out with mother," she said. "Can I go with you, +Theodora?" + +The proposal was not welcome, but without hesitation Theodora answered: +"I shall be obliged if you will. I have some shopping to do, and you can +tell me the best places to go to." + +"I certainly can; I know all the best shops. I always do the shopping. I +like to shop; Isabel hates it. She says the shopmen are not civil to +her. Isabel is so particular about her dignity." + +"That is rather a good quality, is it not?" + +"I don't know--with that kind of people--shopmen and the like--it is +rather a daft thing to do." + +"Daft?" + +"Silly, I mean. They have to wait on you, why should you care how they +do it? I don't." + +"I am ready. Shall we go now?" + +"I am ready. What will you buy first?" + +"Linen--sheets, pillow-cases, table-cloths, napkins, etc. We shall want +a linen draper." + +"Then tell cabby to drive us to Smith and McDonald's. It is perfectly +lovely to be with you, and without mother and Isabel to snub me. I feel +as if I were having a holiday." + +"Perhaps I might snub you." + +"I am sure you will not. I believe I am going to have a happy +afternoon." + +And she really had a few hours that perfectly delighted her. Theodora +asked her advice, and frequently took it. Theodora bought her gloves and +lace, and after the shopping was finished, they went into McLeod's +confectionery and had ices and cakes, lemonade and caramels. For once in +her life, Christina had felt herself to be well-informed and important. +She had told several funny stories also, and Theodora had laughed and +enjoyed them; indeed, she felt as if Theodora considered her quite +clever. + +"I have had such a jolly afternoon," she said as they parted. "Thank you +for taking me with you! I cannot tell you how happy I have been." + +But to Isabel's queries, she answered with an air of ennui: "You know +well, Isabel, what shopping means. We went here and there, and bought +linen of all kinds, and wine and cakes, and then we went to the large +furniture store, and selected a bookcase; for it seems that Robert, with +all his carefulness, forgot one." + +"Did you like her?" + +"She is good-natured enough. Everywhere we went the shopmen fell over +each other to wait on her. My! but it is a grand thing to be beautiful." + +"Do you really think her beautiful?" + +"Every one else does. It matters little what the Traquair Campbells +think. She is rather saucy, but she is so pleasant about it you can't +take offence." + +"Was she saucy to you?" + +"Yes." + +"What did she say?" + +"She said she would be much obliged if I would tap at the door before +entering her room." + +"The idea!" + +"Oh, she is nice enough! I wish mother was not so set against her. I +know she plays and sings, and I adore good music." + +"You will be adoring her next." + +"No, I will not, but I intend to use her when I can." + +"What for?" + +"To give me a little pleasure--to show me how to dress--to lend me books +and music, and take me with her when she goes calling and shopping." + +"I would not receive such favors from a person mother disliked so much." + +"Mother never finds any one she likes, except the Campbelton +people--frowsy, vulgar things, all of them; and I do think it was a +shame to use Dora's dresses and furs and jewelry the way they did." + +"Mother said it was right, and Robert seemed to think so also--that is, +after mother had explained the subject to him." + +"Whatever mother thinks, Robert finally thinks the same. He is more +afraid of mother than we are. I despise a man who can't stick to his own +opinion." + +"But if his opinion is wrong?" + +"All the same, he ought to stick to it; I should. I think Dora is a +lovely woman, and good, and clever. Mother ought to be proud of her new +daughter." + +"Mother had a high ideal for Robert's wife." + +"One that nobody but a Traquair Campbell--or a Jane Dalkeith could +fill." + +"Jane might have pleased her." + +"No one pleases mother! If you gave her the whites of your eyes, she +would not be pleased." + +"You must not forget, Christina, that she is our mother, and that the +Scriptures command us to honor her." + +"Sometimes, and in some cases, Isabel, that command is a gey hard one--I +might say an impossible one." + +"Perhaps, but the Holy Word makes no exceptions--good or bad, wise or +foolish, they are to be honored. Dr. Robertson said so, in his last +sermon to the Sunday School." + +"Dr. Robertson isna infallible, and 'wi' his ten romping, rampaging +sons and daughters, he be to lay down a strict law.' That was Jenny +McDonald's commentary on his sermon. I heard her say so, and I thought +to myself 'Jenny McDonald, you are a vera discerning woman.' I have +respected her ever since, and I shall see she gets a pair of blankets at +the Christmas fair." + +"Well, Christina, I shall not quarrel with you about Dora. I can live +without Dora, but you are essential." + +The evening proved to be as pleasant, as the morning had been +disagreeable. Robert had doubtless suffered some qualms of conscience +regarding his wife's treatment, and resolved to make it up to her by his +own attention. For he believed so firmly in himself, and in Theodora's +love for him, that he really thought a few kind words would atone for +every wrong and unkindness she had suffered. + +He found Theodora in the mood he expected. She was beautifully gowned, +and radiant with welcoming smiles. He forgot to name her morning +indisposition, but asked what she had been doing all day, and was much +pleased when she answered: + +"Christina and I have been shopping this afternoon. She was of great +assistance to me, and we had a delightful time." Then she told him what +she had bought, and made some very merry comments on the strange shops +and polite shopmen. + +Two things in her recital were particularly satisfactory--one of his own +family had shared her pleasure, and he had not been asked for money to +contribute to it. For his wedding expenses had begun to give him a +sense of poverty, and his naturally economical nature was shocked at +their total. But if Theodora liked to buy more linen and furniture, and +treat his sister and herself he had no objections. He supposed she had +plenty of money, he thought of what Mr. Newton called her "royalties," +and felt he might--at least for a few weeks--throw his responsibilities +upon them. + +On the whole, sitting by Theodora's side and listening to her pleasant +conversation, he felt life to be decidedly worth living. Her moderated +dress was also in consonance with his desires. For she had felt her +costume on the previous night to be out of tone with her surroundings, +and had therefore made a much simpler toilet. She had even wondered if +the rich silk and lace, and pearls, were to blame for the unkindness of +her reception; if so, she resolved not to err in that respect again. So +she wore a light gray liberty silk gown of walking length, with a pretty +white muslin waist, and an Eton jacket. A short sash of the same silk +tied at the left side was the only trimming, and her wedding ring with +its diamond guard her only jewelry. Its simplicity elicited her +husband's ardent admiration, and she hoped it would be satisfactory to +all. But who can please jealousy, envy, and hatred? An angel from heaven +would fail, then how should a mortal woman succeed? + +"Last night," said her mother-in-law scornfully, "my lady came sweeping +into the room like a very butterfly of a woman. She thought she would +astonish us. Did she imagine the Traquair Campbells could be snubbed by +a silk dress and a string of pearls? And to-night she comes smiling in +as modest as a Quakeress. I am led to believe, Robert has been giving +her a few words. I know right well she deserved them." + +"Mother," said Isabel, "I dare say she wanted us to believe that she had +been used to full dress dinners." + +"A likely thing in a Methodist preacher's house, or a girl's school +either." + +"College, you mean, mother," corrected Christina. "Or perhaps she +thought if she was dressed very fine, we would like her better. Dress +does make a deal of difference. None of us like our cousins Kerr, +because they dress so shabby." + +"Speak for your own feelings, Christina. Your sister Isabel and I always +treat the Kerr girls with respect." + +"Respect is a gey cold welcome. I would not take it twice." + +"I think you are forgetting yourself, Christina," said Isabel. + +"She has been in bad company all afternoon, Isabel. What can you expect? +I heard her tee-heeing and laughing with Dora, almost until dinner +time." + +And even as the old woman spoke, Robert entered and asked his sisters to +come and spend the evening with Dora and himself. "Dora is going to +sing," he said, "and it will be a great treat for you to hear her." + +"Thank you, brother," said Isabel. "I prefer to stay with mother." + +"Perhaps mother will also come." + +"No, Robert, I do not care for worldly music, and if I did, Christina +sings and plays very well." + +"Robert, I shall be delighted to come," said Christina. "You know I love +music." + +"You will remain with your sister and myself, Christina." + +"Please, mother, let me go! Robert, please!" and she looked so +entreatingly at her brother, that he sat down by his mother, and taking +her hand said: "You must humor me in this matter, dear mother. I want +some of you with me, and I am sure Christina can learn a great deal from +Dora. It will cost her nothing, and she ought to take advantage of +Dora's skill." + +The last argument prevailed. If Christina could get any advantage for +nothing, and especially from Theodora, Mrs. Campbell approved the +project. + +"You may go with your brother, Christina, for an hour, and make the most +of your opportunities. One thing is sure, the woman ought to do +something for the family, for goodness knows, we have been put to +extraordinary expense and trouble for her pleasure." + +A few minutes after the departure of Robert and his sister, Mrs. +Campbell said: "Open the parlor door, Isabel, and let us hear the +'treat' if we can." + +But the songs Theodora sang were quite unknown to the two listeners and +Mrs. Campbell indulged herself in much scornful criticism. "Who ever +heard the like? Do you call that music? It is just skirling. I would +rather hear Christina sing '_The Bush Aboon Traquair_,' or '_The Lass o' +Patie's Mill_,' or a good rattling Jacobite song like '_Highland +Laddie_,' or '_Over the Water to Charlie_.' There is music in the like +o' them, but there isn't a note o' it in Dora's caterwauling." + +"Listen, mother! She is singing merrily enough now. I wonder what it is? +Robert and Christina are both laughing." + +"Something wicked and theatrical, no doubt. Shut the door, Isabel, and +give me my _Practice of Piety_. Then you may leave me, and go to your +room, unless you wish to join your sister." + +"Mother, do not be unjust." + +"In an hour remind Christina. You are a good daughter, Isabel. You are +my greatest comfort." + +"Good-night, mother; you are always first with me." + +When Christina's hour was nearly at its close, Isabel went to her +brother's parlor door. Theodora was singing the sweetest little melody +and her voice was so charmful that Isabel could not tap at the door--as +Christina had been instructed to do--until it ceased. And for many a day +the words haunted her, though she always told herself there was neither +sense nor reason in them. + + "_If there were dreams to sell + What would you buy? + Some cost a passing bell, + Some a light sigh, + That shakes from Life's fresh crown + Only a rose leaf down. + If there were dreams to sell, + Merry and sad to tell, + And the crier rang the bell, + What would you buy?_" + +After this question had rung itself into her heart and memory, she +tapped at the door and Robert rose and opened it. And when Isabel spoke +they brought her in, willing or unwilling, and made so much of her visit +that she could not deny their kindness. Besides, as Robert told her, +they wanted a game of whist so much, and she made it possible. "You +shall be my partner," he added, "and we are sure to win." He was holding +her hand as he spoke, and ere he ceased, he had led her to the table and +got her a seat. Christina threw down a pack of cards, and Isabel found +it impossible to resist the temptation, for she loved a game of whist +and played a clever hand. Then the hours slipped happily away, and it +was near midnight when the sisters stepped softly to their rooms. + +"I have had such a good time," whispered Christina. + +"It was a good game," answered Isabel. + +"Don't you think she is nice?" + +"Dora?" + +"Yes." + +"She puts on plenty of nice airs." + +"I hope Robert will ask us to-morrow night." + +"I shall not go again. I could not help to-night's visit. There is no +need to say anything to mother. It would only worry her." + +"In the morning she will tell us the precise moment that we came +upstairs. No doubt she was watching and listening, and if we had the +feet of a mouse she would hear us." + +But if Mrs. Campbell heard she made no remark on the situation. She knew +well that if Isabel was brought face to face with her frailty, she would +defend it, and defend all concerned in it, and also make a point of +repeating the fault in order to prove the propriety of her position. +That would be giving Theodora too great an advantage. On the contrary, +she was in her pleasantest mood, and as Theodora had her coffee in her +own parlor there was no incident to mar the even temper of the breakfast +table. + +When Robert left it, he was followed so quickly by Christina that she +had an opportunity of speaking to him as he was putting on his overcoat +and gloves, and thus to thank him for his invitation of the previous +evening. "I never had such a happy time in all my life, Robert," she +said, "and Theodora does play and sing wonderfully. It is a joy to +listen to her." + +"Is it not?" he queried with a beaming face. "You were a good girl to +call on her, and go out with her; and I will remember you at the New +Year handsomely if you make things pleasant for Theodora." + +"I would do so to please you, Robert. I do not want to be paid for +that," replied Christina. Robert smiled and went away in such a happy +temper, that Jepson said as he took his place at the head of the kitchen +breakfast table: "The master is off in high spirits this morning. The +bride is winning her way, I suppose. She seems rather an attractive +woman." + +"You suppose! And pray what will your supposing be worth, Mr. Jepson?" +Mrs. McNab asked this question scornfully from the foot of the table. +"Attractive, indeed! She's charming, she's captivating, she's +enchanting, she's bewitching; and if she was only Highland Scotch, she +would soon be teaching thae sour old women the meaning o' them powerful +words. She would that! But she's o'er good, and o'er good-tempered for +the like o' them." + +"You are talking of the mistress, McNab." + +"I am weel acquaint wi' that fact, and I'll just remind you that my name +is Mistress McNab, when you find sense enough to give me my right. And +if it isna lawfu' to talk o' Mistress Traquair Campbell, there's no law +forbidding me to talk o' them Lairds and Crawfords. If they ever come +here again, the smoke will get through their porridge, and they'll +wonder what the de'il is the matter wi' Mistress McNab's cookery." + +"The guests of the house, McNab, ought to have a kind of +consideration." + +"Consider them yoursel', then." + +"The Crawfords and Lairds both are the most respect----" + +"Ill-bred, and forwardsome o' mortals. I could say much worse----" + +"Better not." + +"Bouncing, swaggering, nasty, beggarly creatures! They turn up their +lang noses, and the palms o' their greedy hands at the like o' you and +me, but there isna a lady or a gentleman at this table, that wouldna +scorn the dirty things they did here." + +"They gave none o' us a sixpence when they went awa," said Thomas, the +second man. + +"Sixpence! They couldna imagine a bawbee or a kind word to anybody but +themsel's. They wouldna gie the smoke aff their porridge--but I'll tell +you the differ o' them. The young mistress, God bless her, sends her +maid to me last night, and the girl--a civil spoken creature--says: +'Mrs. McNab, my mistress would like her coffee and rolls in her own +parlor, and there will be due you half-a-crown a week for your trouble, +and thank you.' That's the way a lady puts things. And mind you, if +there's the like o' a fresh kidney, or a few mushrooms coming Mrs. +McNab's way, they will go to my lovely lady in her own parlor--and +Jepson, you can just tell the auld woman I made that remark." + +"What is said at this table goes no further, Mrs. McNab, and that you +know." + +"Then the auld woman has the far-hearing, that's a'----" and being by +this time at the end of her temper and her English speech, she plunged +into Gaelic. It was her sure and unconquered resort, for no one could +answer unpronounceable and untranslatable words. All her companions knew +was, that she rose from the table with an air of victory. + +The next week was very wet. Day after day it was rain only interrupted +by more rain, and Robert seemed to take a kind of pride in its +abundance. "Few countries are so well watered as Scotland," he said +complacently: + + "_The West wind always brings wet weather, + The East wind wet and cold together, + The South wind surely brings us rain, + The North wind blows it back again._" + +This storm included Sunday, and every one went to church except +Theodora. She had a headache, and having been told by Christina that the +Kirk would size her up the first Sabbath she appeared, she resolved to +put off the ordeal. The pleasure of being quite alone for a few hours +was a temptation, for she needed solitude more than service, bewildered +as she was by the strange household ideas and customs which had suddenly +encompassed her life. + +She had thought that religion, or some point of nationality, would be +the most likely rocks of offence, but as yet all her trials had come +from some trivial circumstance of daily life. She had been embarrassed +by such small differences, that she hardly knew in the hasty decisions +they compelled, what to defend and what to abandon. + +It was also a wearisome experience to be constantly exchanging +suspicious courtesies with her husband's family, and by no effort of +love or patience could she get beyond these. Their want of response made +her sad, and checked her affectionate and spontaneous advances, but she +knew that in the trials of domestic life all plans must come at last to +the give and take, bear and forbear theory. So after some reflection, +she said softly to herself: "These women are the samples of humanity +given me with my husband, and I must make the best of them. I can choose +my friends, but I must take my relations as I find them. They are not +what I wish, not what I expected, but I fear nothing comes up to our +expectations. The real thing always lacks the color of the thing hoped +for." + +Such despondent musings, however, were not natural to her hopeful +temper. "There must be a bright side to the situation," she continued, +"and I must try and find it." So she roused herself from the recumbent +position she had taken. "Stand up on thy feet, and look for the bright +side, Theodora." As she did so, her eyes fell upon the small book in her +hand, and she read these words: + + "Take a good heart, O Jerusalem, for he that gave thee that + name will comfort thee." With a joyful smile she read it again, + and this time aloud: + + "Take a good heart, O Theodora, for he that gave thee that name + will comfort thee!"[1] The glorious promise inspired her at + once with strength and joy; she felt her soul singing within + her, and her first impulse was to open the piano and pour out + her thanksgiving. + + "O come let us sing unto the Lord, let us heartily rejoice in + the strength of our salvation." + +[Footnote 1: Baruch. Chap. 4, v. 30.] + +At this point McNab rushed into the room crying: "For goodness sake, my +lady, stop! You'll be having the police in, and the de'il to pay all +round, disturbing the Sunday saints and the like o' it. Excuse me, +ma'am, but you don't know what you're up to." + +"I am singing a psalm, McNab. Is there anything wrong in that?" + +"You've put your finger on the wrong, ma'am. Singing a psalm isna a +thing fit to be done in your ain parlor on the Sunday. It is a' right in +the Kirk, but it is a' wrang in the parlor." + +"How is that?" + +"You be to ask wiser folk than I am what's the differ. If you were +singing the psalm o' the blessed Virgin itsel' and folk heard you, there +would be no end o' the matter. You can sing without the piano, ma'am, +it's the piano that's the blackguard on a Sunday." + +"Thank you, McNab, for warning me. I have not learned the ways of the +country yet." + +"You'll never learn them, ma'am. They must be borned in ye, sucked in +wi' your mither's milk, and thrashed into ye wi' your school lessons. +Just gie them their ways, and stick to your ain. You can do that, McNab +does. They are easy satisfied if it suits their convenience. Every soul +in this house is at church but mysel', for I hae made collops the +regular Sunday dinner, and no one but McNab can cook collops to suit +Mrs. Traquair Campbell." + +"I am sure she would not keep you from church to make collops." + +"I am a Catholic, and she keeps me at home to make collops, to prevent +me going to my ain church. God save us! she thinks she is keeping me +from serving the devil." + +"So you are a Catholic?" + +"Glory be to God, I am a Catholic! Did you ever taste collops, ma'am?" + +"I never heard of them." + +"Weel, they arena bad, and when McNab makes them, they are vera good. I +shall put a few mushrooms in them to-day for your sake." + +"Thank you!" + +"And you can sing twice as much the morn. I'm sure it is a thanksgiving +to listen to you." + +Then the door closed, and Theodora closed the piano, put away her music, +and went upstairs to dress for dinner. The thanksgiving was still in her +heart, and she sang it with her soul joyfully, as she put on one of her +most cheerful and beautiful costumes. It seemed natural and proper to do +so, and without reasoning on the subject, she felt it to be in fit +sympathy with her mood. + +Even when the churchgoers came home drabbled and dripping, and as cross +and gloomy as if they had been to hear a Gospel that was bad news, +instead of good news, she did not feel its incongruity with her +environment, until her mother-in-law said: + +"You are very much over-dressed for the day, Dora." + +"It is God's day, and I dressed in honor of the day." + +"Then you should have gone to church to honor Him." + +Before his wife could reply, Robert made a diversion: "What did you +think of the sermon, mother?" he asked. + +"It was a very strong sermon." + +"Who was the preacher?" asked Isabel. + +"Dr. Fraser of Stirling," said Robert. + +"Well, brother, I do not believe Dr. Robertson would have approved the +sermon. It is not like his preaching." + +"It was an excellent sermon," reiterated Mrs. Campbell. "I hope all the +uncovenanted present felt its weighty solemnity." She muttered, twice +over, its awful text: "The wicked shall be turned into hell, and all the +nations that forget God." + +"There is a better word for them than that," said Theodora, her face +alight with spiritual promise. "'The Lord is long-suffering to us-ward, +not willing that any should perish, but that _all_ should come to +repentance.' That is what Saint Peter says, and Timothy, 'God our +Saviour will have all men to be saved,' a great _all_ that, and the +Testament is full of such glad hope." + +"Those passages do not apply to the lost, Dora." + +"But as your great Scotch preacher, Thomas Erskine, said, we are lost +_here_ as much as there, and Christ came to seek and to save the lost." + +Mrs. Campbell looked with sorrowful anger at her son, and Robert said: +"My dear Dora, you argue like a woman. Women should listen, and never +argue." + +"Women are told to search the Scriptures, Robert. I search and +understand them, but I do not often understand the men who profess to +explain them." + +"Your father----" + +"Oh, my father! _He_ has come unto Bethlehem. Those who can believe God +has any pleasure in punishing sinners, are still at Sinai." + +"God must punish sinners," said Isabel. + +"God can reform and forgive them, just as easily; and it would be far +more in accord with His nature, for 'God is Love.'" + +"If we are to have a theological discussion by young women, I shall +retire," said Robert, and with these words he rose from the table. + +"Sit down, Robert. You have had no pudding." + +"The collops were very fine to-day, mother, and I am satisfied." + +As he left the room Theodora rose and went with him, but he did not +appear to notice her. When they were in their parlor he said: "You ought +to have sat still and finished your argument with my sister." + +"Have I done something wrong, Robert?" + +"I think if you cannot assent to mother's statements, it would be more +becoming not to contradict them." + +"If it had been a matter of no importance, I would have kept silence, +but I must always testify in any company, the absolute perfection of +Jesus Christ's sacrifice." + +"Nobody challenged it." + +"But if it does not save _all_ it is imperfect. And surely John the +Beloved knew his Master's heart, and he says 'Jesus Christ is the +propitiation for our sins, and not for ours only, but also for the sins +of the whole world.' How can any one dare to narrow that zone of mercy?" + +"You argue like a woman, Dora." + +"I am not arguing. I am only quoting what the greatest of men have +said." + +Then Robert lifted the _Sunday Magazine_ and answered all her further +efforts at conversation in polite monosyllables, and finding the +position she had been relegated to both embarrassing and humiliating, +she finally went to her room upstairs, and shut herself in with God. Her +eyes were full of unshed tears, as she turned the key, for she felt that +something in her life had lost its foothold. Was it her faith? Oh, no! +She trusted God implicitly. She could not think any ill of Him, she had +loved Him from her cradle. Was it her love? Oh, how reluctant she was, +to even ask this question. But there was a great change in Robert, or +was it that she now saw the real Robert Campbell, while the man who had +wooed and won her had been but a man playing a lover's role? + +For even during the few days they had been at home, it was evident that +both he and his family were resolved on her surrendering her faith, and +her individuality. She was to be made over by the Campbells in their own +image and likeness. Robert had loved and married Theodora Newton; was +she to change her character with her name? She had made no such promise, +and, without the slightest egotism, she could see that such a denial of +herself would compel from her mental and spiritual nature a downward, +backward movement, so deep and wide she dared not contemplate it. + +Her duty to her husband was plain as the Bible, and she promised herself +to fulfil it to the last tittle, but while doing this, she must find the +courage to be true to herself, as well as to others. And as nothing can +be done in the heart by halves, it would be no fitful or uncertain +struggle. The whole soul, the whole heart, the whole mind, the whole +life, would be demanded. She was troubled at the prospect before her. +Would she find strength and wisdom for it? Or would it prove to be +another of the lost fights of Virtue? + +"No, no!" she cried. "I shall not fight alone. God and Theodora are a +multitude." + +She had certainly that doleful afternoon gone back in piteous memory to +her teaching and writing, and her own peaceful, loving home, and thought +that if trouble was necessary for her higher development it could have +been better borne in either environment. But she acknowledged also that + + "_Where our Captain bids us go, + 'Tis not ours to murmur 'No.' + He that gives us sword and shield, + Chooses too the battlefield._" + +So if God had chosen this gloomy house, full of jealousy, envy, hatred, +and apparently dying love, for her battlefield, it was not her place to +murmur "No," nor even her desire, since He that + + "_chose the battlefield, + Would give her also sword and shield._" + + + + +CHAPTER V + +BAD AT BEST + + +If there had been a little diversity in the Campbell family it would +have been a more bearable household. But they had the same prejudices +and the same likes and dislikes, differing only in the intensity with +which they held them. Mrs. Campbell and her son Robert were the most +positive, Isabel was but little behind them, and Christina was easily +bent as the others desired. Under present circumstances she could only +be true to her family; under any other circumstances, it was doubtful if +she could be false. This monotony of feeling pressed like a weight on +Theodora, who felt that she could have borne opposition and unkindness +better if there had been more variety in their exhibition; for then Life +might have had some interesting fluctuations. + +But Mrs. Campbell did precisely the same things every day, and to go to +the works at the same moment every morning was the sum-total of Robert's +life. The girls had certain dresses for the morning, and certain other +dresses for the afternoon, and their employments were quite as uniform. +There were even certain menus for every day's dinner in the week, and +these were repeated with little or no change year in and year out. For +Mrs. Campbell hated the unexpected; she tried to order her life so that +there should be no surprises in it. On the contrary Theodora delighted +in the unforeseen. She would have wished that even in heaven she might +have happy surprises--the sudden meeting with an old friend, or good +news from the dear earth still loved and remembered. + +However, she had that hopefulness and virginity of spirit that makes the +best of what cannot be changed, and as the weeks went on she learned to +ignore the ill-will she could not conquer and to bear in silence the +wrongs not to be put right by any explanations. And she soon made many +acquaintances, and a few sincere friends. Among the latter were Dr. +Robertson and his wife, and Mrs. Oliphant, the American. The former had +called on Theodora about ten days after her home-coming and had been +heartily attracted by her intelligence and beauty. The doctor was +passionately fond of good music, and when he noticed the open piano and +the name Mendelssohn on the music above it, he asked in an eager voice: +"You will play for me?" + +"Yes," Theodora answered, "very gladly! My piano is my great friend and +companion. It feels with me in every mood. What shall I play?" + +"The song before you. Mendelssohn can get very near to a musical soul." + +She rose at once, and after a short prelude played in a manner so +masterful as to cause the minister to look at his wife in wonder as her +magnificent voice lifted that pathetic prayer, which has spoken for the +sorrowful and suffering in all ages: + +"O that I had wings like a dove, then would I flee away and be at rest." + +Every note and every word was full of passionate spiritual desire and +tender aspiration, and the music was as if her guardian angel joined her +in it. The doctor was entranced, and Mrs. Robertson rose and was +standing by the singer's side when she ceased. + +"O, my dear, my dear!" she said, "you have gone straight to my heart." + +A long and delightful conversation followed; then Ducie set an exquisite +little service, and gave the company tea and cake and sweetmeats, and +the visit did not terminate for nearly another hour. + +Mrs. Campbell was in a transport of anger. "I was never even asked +after," she complained to her son, "and Dora kept them all of two +hours--such ignorance of social customs--and I could hear them talking +and singing like a crowd of daffing young people." + +"You ought to have joined them, mother." + +"I ought to have been asked to do so, but I was quite neglected." + +A few minutes later Robert said to his wife: "Why did you not send for +mother when the minister called?" + +"Mother was not asked for, and whenever I do send for her she makes a +point of refusing, often very rudely, and I did not wish Dr. Robertson +to be refused in our parlor." + +"Who was mother rude to? It is not her way." + +"To Mrs. Oliphant for one, and there were others." + +"She does not approve of Mrs. Oliphant." + +"I did not know whether she approved of Dr. and Mrs. Robertson. I like +them very much. The doctor was very happy, and Mrs. Robertson told me 'I +had gone straight to her heart.'" + +"Such extravagance of speech! But she is Irish, and the Irish must +exaggerate. They are a most untruthful race." + +"They are an affectionate race, and what is the good of loving people, +if you do not tell them so? They might as well be without such love." + +"Do not be foolish, Dora." + +"Is that foolishness?" + +"Yes." + +"Then once you were very foolish. I have not forgotten the time, when +you continually told me how dearly you loved me. I was very happy then." + +He turned and looked at her, and her beauty conquered him. He took her +to his heart, and said: "I do love you, Dora. Yes, I do love you!" And +then she grew radiant, and joy transfigured her face, and they went in +to dinner together like lovers. + +A little later when Dr. Robertson and his wife were sitting alone they +began to talk of Theodora. "She has a great heart," said Mrs. Robertson, +"and more's the pity." + +"Yes, Kate, more's the pity, if she loves Robert Campbell; for it's +small love she will get in return. Like ivy on a stone wall, she will +obtain only a rigid and niggardly support, and even for that must go +searching all round with humble embraces." + +"You may take back your last two words, Angus. Yonder woman will stand +level with her husband, or not stand with him at all. She would scorn +your humble embraces." + +"I fear she is in trouble already. There were tears in her voice as she +sang." + +"It would have melted the heart of a stone. Trouble? Certainly. How can +she live with those three amazing women, and be out of trouble?" + +"Well, Kate, the key of life which opens all its doors, and answers all +its questions, is not 'how' or 'why' or even 'I wish' or 'I will.' It is +_I must_. She must live with them. She must, she must, she must; and +she'll do it." + +"She will not do it long. Mind what I say. She will strive till she is +weary, and then she must leave him--or else drift on a sorrowful sea +like a dismasted ship." + +"She believes in God--a believer in God never does that." + +"Then she will have to leave him. Who could stand the ill-natured +nagging of those women, and his sullen, masterful ways? No one." + +"She must! The tooth often bites the tongue, but they keep together." + +"Poor woman! It is a hard road for her to walk on." + +"It is the ground that we do _not_ walk on, that supports us. Faith +treads on the void, and finds the rock beneath. She has found that +rock, or I am greatly mistaken." + +"I feel sure she has found it. Angus, if you could get her to sing that +prayer, 'O For the Wings of a Dove' in church, say, while the Elders +went round with the collection boxes, it would do a deal of good. It +would touch every heart--they wouldn't mind their pennies, they might +even give a crown where they have given a shilling." + +"That is a capital idea, but I should have to ask Campbell for his +consent." + +"He does not own her voice." + +"He thinks he does, and he must have his say-so. But if she could touch +every heart as she touched ours what a gracious gift of song it would +be!" + +"I believe she could. Ask Robert Campbell." + +"I will." + +Under all circumstances Robert would have received the minister with +extreme courtesy, for a Scotchman can no more afford to quarrel with the +dominie of his Kirk than a Catholic in Rome can afford to quarrel with +the Pope in Rome. Also, he had a great respect for Dr. Robertson, and +when he was told of the sermon he intended to preach on the following +Sabbath he was very proud of the confidence, and still prouder to be of +service in promoting its effectiveness. + +"Of course," he said, "Mrs. Campbell would sing. Why not? Was he not +always happy to oblige the doctor and benefit the church?" And it never +struck him that he was assuming an absolute right in Theodora's voice, +and in her use of it; because he actually felt what he assumed. Nor did +he see that in giving her voice to benefit the church he was thinking +solely of the church as a religious society, and the souls composing it +were never for a moment in his calculation. Both of these facts were +clear to the minister, and he hoped that when Campbell saw and felt the +effects of his concession he would be disposed to give some thanks to +Theodora, and so get a glimpse of what he owed to a wife so good, so +clever, and so lovely. + +It was remarkable that he never named the subject to his mother, and to +Theodora he only spoke of the minister's visit, and asked if he had +called on her. + +"Yes," she answered, "I made all arrangements with him." She did not +dare to express her pleasure, for in that case she knew by experience he +would probably cancel his concession. She permitted him to think she was +willing to oblige the doctor, because he wished it, and then he felt it +necessary to say that it was for "the good of the church, and that he +had only consented to her singing for that reason." + +Two days afterwards Mrs. Robertson called on Theodora and they went out +together, nor did Theodora return until after ten o'clock. At that hour +Mrs. Campbell sent for her son to discuss Dora's absence with him. She +found him satisfied, instead of angry, as she supposed he would be. + +"It is quite right, mother," he said. "Dora is dining with the +Robertsons. I was invited, but I preferred to remain at home." + +"You did the proper thing. Neither I nor your sisters were invited. I +consider our neglect a great insult." + +"No insult was intended, mother. They are infatuated with Dora, and I +dare say have invited some of the congregation to meet her. Why, there +she is now!" he exclaimed, "and I wonder who is with her?" + +"I advise you to find out." + +He followed the advice, and went to the open door. Theodora was in the +embrace of Mrs. Oliphant. "You darling," she was saying, "I can hardly +wait for Sunday. O, how are you, Mr. Campbell? You ought to have been +with us. We have had the loveliest evening with your adorable wife--but +we have brought her safe home." + +Then Mr. Oliphant laughed: "You ought to keep at her side, Campbell. +Every man o' us would like to run awa' with her." + +He said the words jokingly, but Robert was very angry, and Theodora felt +that his permission for the Sunday singing wavered in the balance. But +the danger passed in his criticisms of the offender, whom he stigmatized +as "the most uxorious and foolish of husbands." + +Except to Theodora, he did not name the subject of her singing on the +coming Sabbath, and as neither Mrs. Campbell nor her daughters spoke of +it, Theodora followed the example set her and kept silence. When Sunday +arrived, she went quietly out of the house while the rest were dressing, +and at the last moment Robert joined his family, saying: "I will go to +church with you this morning, mother." He gave no reason for his +conduct, nor did Mrs. Campbell ask for one. She concluded that Theodora +was sick, or that more likely she had had a dispute with her husband +about the service, and in consequence had refused to attend it. + +As it happened Mrs. Campbell had only heard Theodora sing from a +distance, or behind closed doors, and Isabel was very near in the same +ignorance of her voice and its ability. Christina was more likely to +recognize the singer, for she had frequently heard her, but she did not, +or at least only in a vague and uncertain manner. She wished Theodora +had been present, that she might learn her deficiencies, and she +wondered that two people should have voices so similar; but she +reflected, that her own voice was so like Isabel's that her mother +frequently mistook them. But Robert knew, and his heart melted to the +passionate stress and longing of her cry: "O that I had wings like a +dove," and thrilled to the joy and triumph of the rest hoped for. + +The whole church was moved as if it had been one spirit and one heart. +The place seemed to be on fire with feeling, and as the marvellous voice +died away in peace and rest a strange but mighty influence swept over +the usually cold and stolid congregation. Some wept silently, some bowed +their heads, and a few stood and looked upward, while the soft, rolling +notes of the organ died away in the benediction. Very quietly and +speechlessly the congregation dispersed. All went home with the song in +their hearts, but not until they sat down in their homes did they begin +to talk together of the psalm and the singer. Even Mrs. Campbell was +touched and pleased, and she took a great delight in praising the +singer, as they sat at lunch. + +"That _was_ singing," she said, "and the finest singing I ever heard. +Many people pretend to sing who know nothing about it and have no voice +to sing with--but, thank God, for once in my life, I have heard +singing." + +"It sounded very like Dora's voice," said Christina. + +"You are mistaken," replied Isabel, "besides, the voice we heard this +morning is a finely trained voice--I mean, as voices are trained for +oratorio and public singing. It was a soprano, and soprano voices are +very much alike." + +No one cared to dispute Isabel's explanation and the conversation +drifted to the sermon from the same psalm. "It was a good sermon," said +Mrs. Campbell, "but people will forget it in the song." + +"The song was the sermon to-day," said Isabel. + +"The sermon was water, the song was wine," said Robert. + +"I wish you would get the music, Dora. I am sure you could learn to sing +it very well," said Christina; and Theodora smiled and answered, "I will +try and get the music, if you wish, Christina." + +"No, no!" cried Mrs. Campbell. "I would not have the memory of this +morning's song spoiled for a great deal." + +"Nor I, mother," added Isabel. "Would you, Robert?" + +The better man had possession of Robert at that hour and he replied with +a strong fervor: + +"No, not for anything. It is one memory I shall hope to keep green as +long as I live." He looked at Theodora, and if any there had had eyes to +see, they might have read the secret in their beaming faces. + +In their own parlor Robert was more enthusiastic than Theodora had seen +him for a long time. "You have often gone to my heart, Dora," he said, +"but this morning you touched my soul." And they were very happy +together. This was the man Theodora loved. This was the man to whom she +had given her heart and hand. Oh, how was she to keep this Robert +Campbell always to the fore? + +To do any great thing with the heart of another, you must vivisect your +own, and this truth Theodora had to practise continually. Her life was +one of such painful self-denial as left all its little pleasant places +bare and barren; but she knew that in this way only could peace be +bought, and she paid the price, excepting always, when it struck at her +self-respect or violated her conscience. For she had constant +opportunities of seeing that the spirit of submission carried too far +was responsible for most of the misery and wrongs of the household; +since despotism is never the sin of one, but comes from the servility +of those around the despot. And as Robert was not always indifferent, +but had frequent visitings from his better self, she made the most of +these happy times, and took the envy and hatred of the rest as she took +wet weather, or wind, or snow, or any other exhibition of the Higher +Powers. For if training and education had made Theodora self-respectful, +it had also made her avoid everything like self-indulgence. + + "_To her there never came the thought, + That this her life was meant to be + A pleasure house, where peace unbought + Should minister to pride and glee._ + + "_Sublimely she endured each ill + As a plain fact, whose right or wrong + She questioned not; confiding still + That it would last--not over long._ + + "_Willing from first to last to take + The mysteries of her life as given, + Leaving her time-worn soul to slake + Its thirst, in an undoubted heaven._" + +So the weeks passed on in a kind of armed truce with short intervals of +satisfying happiness, whenever Robert chose to make her happy. She still +took her breakfast alone, and now and then Robert, allured by the pretty +appetizing table on the cheerful hearth, drank his coffee and ate a +rasher of bacon beside her. Then how gay and delighted she was, and as +on such occasions he gave up his porridge and salt herring, McNab, in +order to pleasure the mistress whom she loved, always found him some +dainty to atone for his deprivation. And the meal was so good and +cheerful, that it was a wonderful thing he did not join his wife +constantly. + +It was now getting near to Christmas, but none of the family had yet +ventured to tell Mrs. Campbell the truth concerning the singing in the +church although she frequently spoke of it. In fact, ever since that +Sabbath she had made a point of sending a note to Theodora whenever she +heard the piano. "I know practising from music," she said in every note, +"and I do not like practising." Only Christina being present at the +practising interfered with the message, and many times it had been sent +when it was the caller who was doing the practising. The order was +always obeyed, lest it should be more offensively repeated, and to no +one but Mrs. Oliphant did Theodora confide her reason for closing the +instrument so promptly. The message elicited from Mrs. Oliphant scornful +laughter, and the three women listening for the manner of its reception +were not surprised. + +"They are laughing at my order," said Mrs. Campbell, "what dreadful +manners Americans do have!" + +"Dora's manners are equally bad. She had no business to show her the +note," said Isabel. + +"Dora is English; what can you expect?" + +"Dora ought to send for me when she has company," said Christina, "then +she would be allowed to practise, would she not, mother?" + +"Christina, I am always willing to sacrifice myself for my children, and +you profess to learn something from her playing." + +"I do, and I love to hear her play and sing. Dora has been kind to me, +she isn't half bad." + +"Well, Christina, in all proper things I consult my children's pleasure, +rather than my own comfort." + +Isabel said nothing, and yet Theodora had made many whist parties for +her pleasure, persuading Robert to invite to them such unmarried men as +would be suitable partners for his sisters in life, as well as at the +whist table. These parties had always terminated with supper and music, +Christina being the principal, and generally the only performer. She had +taken both of the sisters out with her, dressed them for entertainments, +shown them how to dress themselves, and taught them those little tricks +of the toilet, which are to women at once so innocent and so +indispensable. Many times these services had been rendered cheerfully +when she was sick or depressed, but neither of the girls had any +conception of a kindness, except as it related to themselves--how it +benefited their looks or their feelings, and what results would accrue +to them from it. Never once had they expressed a sense of obligation for +any favor done them. They took every kindness as their right, for they +heard their mother constantly assert: "Dora could never do enough for +them." + +"She has forced herself into our family without our desire or +permission," she would say, "and if she could only understand it she is +a great wrong and annoyance to us. If she _does_ teach Christina music +and singing and French, and entertain you both now and then, it is her +bounden duty to do that, and more. She is a born schoolmistress anyway, +and no doubt feels quite at home teaching you any little thing she can." + +This was not a happy life for Theodora, but she had chosen it, and our +choices are our destiny. It was now her duty to make the best of it, and +if Robert was only a little loving and just, her fine spirits and +hopeful temper made her gay as a bird in spring. Her enthusiasms were +incomprehensible to the three women, they were even repulsive; for +neither the selfish, ill-tempered mother, nor the selfish, servile +daughters, could understand that joy, which, coming from the inner life, +is illimitably glad and hopeful, "something afar from the sphere of our +sorrow." + +But even Robert was now ashamed of his enthusiasms as a lover, as a +married man he considered them quite out of place. They had served their +purpose and ought to be retired from the sensible atmosphere of daily +life. So he allowed the noblest and tenderest symbols of love to die of +cruel neglect, and his occasional breakfasts with Theodora were the only +remnant of his once passionate personal love. He was quite willing to +consider Dora as belonging to the whole family, and he smiled grimly if +he remembered the days in which he was intensely jealous even of her own +father and mother's claim on her affection. + +One great reason for Theodora's life being so troubled by dislike and +unrest was doubtless because her angel was not, and could not, be +friends with the angels of her new connections. They had no business to +be in the same house. They got in each other's way and provoked +friction. And though physical crowding is bad, spiritual crowding is +much worse. Theodora had been well aware of the antagonism of her angel +to her marriage with Robert Campbell. By intuitions, presentiments, +omens, dreams, and even by clairaudient words, she had been warned of +matrimonial troubles. + +But she had an invincible faith in her influence over her intended +husband, and as for a fight with others, or with circumstances, of +neither was she afraid. She had always won her way triumphantly. She +believed in God, she believed in herself, and she believed in humanity. +The calibre of a Scotch family composed of three-fourths women, was a +combination she had never seen, never heard of, never read of, and could +not possibly imagine. + +Yes, she had been abundantly counselled, and she remembered especially +the last warning that she received before her marriage. She was at the +Salutation Hotel on Lake Windermere, standing at the window of her room +looking over the lovely scene. All Nature was calm as a resting wheel, +the sky full of stars; all the mystery and majesty of earth, the lake, +the woods, the mountains encompassed her. And as she stood there musing +on the past, and on the future as connected with Robert Campbell, the +voice she knew so well pleaded with her for the last time. + +"_Are you able?_" it asked. + +"Yes," she answered softly but audibly. + +"_The fight will be hard._" + +"I shall win it." + +"_Though as by fire!_" + +Then she was alone, and she felt strangely desolate and afraid. + +For though one come from the dead, the soul self-centred and confident +in its own wisdom will not believe. Then it can only learn its life's +lesson by those cruel experiences from which its good angel would so +gladly have saved it. + +"_Though as by fire! Though as by fire!_" Often she had thought of that +prophecy since her marriage, when she had been forced day after day to +say with David: + +"They have spoken against me with a lying tongue. + +"They compassed me about with words of hatred, and fought against me +without cause. + +"For my love they are my adversaries, and they have rewarded me evil for +good, and hatred for my love." + +She was sitting alone one afternoon, and very weary and disconsolate +after a morning of petty slights, and unkind words, when Robert entered. +He was earlier than usual and more responsive to her smile of welcome. + +"I am so glad to see you, Robert, so glad! I did not expect you for an +hour." + +"The minister called on me this afternoon, and I returned to the city +with him. He wants you to sing, Dora, at the New Year's service. He is +going to preach from the first verse of the fourteenth of Job: 'Man that +is born of a woman is of few days and full of trouble.' He says the +sermon will necessarily be solemn and warning, so he wishes you to sing +something that lifts up the heart and looks hopefully forward." + +"Are you willing that I should sing, Robert?" + +"Yes, I should like you to do so." + +"Then what could be better than Job's triumphant confession, '_I know +that my Redeemer liveth_'?" + +"That is the very thing! You sung it once in Sheffield. I have never +forgotten it." + +"Has your mother been told about my singing, '_O that I had wings like a +dove_'?" + +"No. I have never found a good opportunity to tell her. I knew she would +feel it much. As soon as you have settled the matter with the doctor, I +will tell her of both together." + +The next morning Dr. Robertson called to see Theodora, and was delighted +with her selection. He did not stay long, but Mrs. Campbell was deeply +offended because she was neither personally visited by him, nor yet +invited by Theodora to meet him in her parlor. The lunch table was made +a fiery furnace for her, and she had not the physical power to resist +the evil. Assailed by a sudden faintness, she was obliged to leave the +room. + +"Dora looks ill," said Christina. + +"She is always complaining lately. She had Dr. Fleming in the house +twice last week, had she not, Isabel?" Isabel sighed deeply, and +Christina absently nodded assent. She was counting the custard cups and +considering the best way to appropriate the one intended for Theodora. + +Jepson, however, had noticed the white face and unsteady steps of the +sick woman and assisted her to her own apartments. On his return he was +confronted by the angry face of his mistress. She laid down her knife +and fork with a clash and asked: + +"How dared you leave the room, Jepson? I hired you to wait on the Miss +Campbells and myself." + +"I thought Mrs. Campbell looked very ill, ma'am." + +"You are here to obey orders, not to think. And _I_ am Mrs. Campbell, +the other is Mrs. Robert. Do you understand?" + +"Yes, ma'am." + +For some hours Theodora lay on the sofa in deep sleep, or in some other +form of oblivion. She came back to consciousness with the feeling of one +shipwrecked on a dark, desolate land, and after a little sobbing cry, +went upstairs to try and dress for dinner. A depressing anxiety, a +horror of the great darkness from which she had just returned was on +her, and as soon as her exhausting toilet was over, she went back to the +parlor, and lifting a book sat down at a small table with it in her +hand. + +Isabel, who was with her mother, heard both the ascent and descent, and +directed her attention to it. "Dora has been dressing for dinner," she +said. "Her sickness has not lasted long." + +"There was nothing the matter with her." + +"You are looking very well, mother, but I must change my gown. Why not +go and question Dora about the minister's visit? She ought to tell you +the why and the wherefore of it." + +"She _shall_ tell me. I will make the inquiry at once." + +Theodora was sitting with her elbows on the small table, her head in her +hands and the open pages of the book below her heavy eyes, when the door +was imperiously opened and Mrs. Campbell entered. + +"You have got over your impromptu attack, I see, very readily." + +"I feel better than I did a few hours ago." + +"Why did Dr. Robertson call on you this morning?" + +"He called on business--not socially." + +"Money as usual, I suppose." + +"He did not name money." + +"Then what did he name?" + +"His business." + +"And what was his business?" + +"I cannot tell you--yet." + +"So you are the doctor's confidant! You are the doctor's adviser! You +are set up before me, about the doctor's business. You! You, indeed! +Have you argued the matter out with the devil, as to how far you can go +with a minister?" + +"I never argue with the devil. 'Get thee behind me' is enough for him." + +"I perfectly think scorn of you and your pretensions. I suppose the +doctor is trying to save your soul!" + +"My soul is saved." + +"You are an impertinent huzzy!" + +"I do not intend to be impertinent--and I do not deserve such a +contemptuous word as huzzy." + +"You are a fifty-fold huzzy! You are not reading. Lift your eyes and +look at me!" + +"I would rather not." + +"I say, look at me. Why do you keep your eyes dropped? Do you think +yourself beautiful in that attitude? You are full of tricks." + +Then Theodora lifted her eyes and looked steadily at her tormentor. They +were pleading and reproachful, and full of tears. "I should like to be +alone," she said slowly, "I am not well." + +"I wish to know the minister's business." + +"I must tell Robert first." + +"I must tell Robert first," cried Mrs. Campbell with mocking mimicry. +"Let me tell you, Robert would rather you never spoke to him! He wishes +you far away--he is sick of you, as I am--he is sorry he ever saw your +face." + +"I do not believe these things. Will you leave me? You are very +cruel--I have not deserved such abuse." Once more she dropped her eyes +on her book, but the letters were blurred and the solid earth seemed +reeling. + +"Give me that book and listen to what I say!" + +There was no answer. + +"Do you hear me? Give me that book." + +Theodora neither spoke nor moved, and in a tragic frenzy of passion Mrs. +Campbell seized the book and flung it to the other end of the room. + +With a shriek, shrill yet weak, Theodora tottered to where it lay with +its pages crumpled against the floor, and in the effort to lift the +volume she fell like one dead beside it. + +Then Ducie screamed for McNab and Jepson, and the two came hurrying in. + +"She flung the Bible across the room! She flung the Bible!" + +"Stop talking, Ducie, and help me get the dress of the poor lady +slackened. Jepson, run for Dr. Fleming." + +"I will if you say so, McNab." + +"Run awa', and don't stand there like a born idiot, then." + +"I will not have a doctor brought here," said Mrs. Campbell in +passionate tones. "I will not have one! There is no necessity for a +doctor. I say----" + +"Say nothing at all, ma'am. Do you ken it was the Bible you flung across +the room? What devil put it into your heart and hand to do the like o' +that unforgiveable sin? I'm feared to be in the room wi' you, mistress. +You'll never dare to pray again, you meeserable woman, you!" + +For a few minutes Mrs. Campbell was really shocked. She went to the +book, straightened out its leaves, and laid it on the table. "I did not +know it was the Bible, McNab," she said. "No one respects the Holy +Scriptures more than I do. I regret----" + +"The deed is done. There's nae good in respecting and regretting now. +Come here and help us to do what we can, till the doctor comes." + +"I will not. It is her fault. She would make an angel sin. I am +innocent, perfectly innocent. My God, what a tribulation the creature +is!" + +"I wouldna name God, if I was you," said McNab scornfully. "Maybe He'll +forget you, if you dinna remind Him o' your sinfu' self." + +"McNab, I give you notice to leave my house at once." + +"That is more like you, Mistress Campbell, but I'm not going out o' this +house till the master says so. I am his hired woman, not yours, thank +God! and I am not feared to speak the Holy Name, as you may well be. +Here's the doctor--thank God again for that mercy! You had better leave +the room, or you'll be getting the words you're well deserving, +mistress." + +"I shall stay just where I am." + +"You're a dour woman; you are that." + +Dr. Fleming entered as the last words were spoken. He brought with him +an atmosphere of help and strength, and barely glancing at Mrs. Campbell +he knelt down beside the sick woman. In a few moments he rose, and +calling Jepson, ordered him to "go to No. 400 Renfrew Street, and bring +back with him Jean Malcolm." + +"I cannot spare Jepson, doctor," said Mrs. Campbell. "It is nearly time +to serve dinner." + +"Do as I tell you, man, and be off at once. Don't waste a moment. Take a +cab." + +"Doctor----" + +"Mrs. Campbell, this is a serious case. We have no time to think of +dinners. I fear there is a slight concussion of the brain." + +Then turning to McNab, he said: "There must be a mattress brought down +here, and I shall want two men to carry the patient upstairs. Have you +men in the house?" + +"No, sir, none worth the name o' men. I'll step over to the hotel and +get a couple o' their porters." + +"That will do." + +"Doctor, if there are any extraordinary arrangements to make, I am Mrs. +Traquair Campbell." + +"I know you, Mrs. Campbell. I have a very true knowledge of you." + +"Then, sir, give your orders to me. What do you wish?" + +"I wish you to leave the room. If your dinner is ready, you had better +eat it. I may want your man for some time." + +"Sir, you are rude. Will you remember this is my house?" + +"It is not your house. It is your son's house, and this lady, I take it, +is his wife. So then, it is her house." + +"Yes, she is my son's wife, more's the pity, more's the shame, more's +the sorrow----" + +"My God, woman! Have you no heart, no pity, no sense of duty to a sick +woman?" As he spoke he rose, and with an angry face and long strides +walked to the door and threw it wide open, uttering only one fierce +word: "_Go!_" + +A better and a more powerful spirit than her own gave this order, and +she perforce obeyed it; but when she reached the dining-room, she threw +herself on the sofa in a frantic passion. + +"I have been insulted," she cried. "I have been insulted shamefully. Oh, +Isabel! that woman will be the death of me!" + +"Perhaps she will die herself, mother. Ducie says she has hurt her brain +in falling--a concussion, she said." + +"Not a bad concussion, though----" + +"No, a slight one, but one never knows, and she is so excitable----" + +Thus they comforted each other until the porters arrived, and went +upstairs for the mattress. Their rough voices and heavy feet, and the +natural confusion attending their business roused Mrs. Campbell and her +daughters to a pitch of distraction, only to be relieved by motion and +loud talking. Walking up and down the room, and striking her large +cruel hands together, Mrs. Campbell was heard above all the confusion +attending the removal of Theodora; and in the midst of this confusion, +Robert came home. + +"Whatever is the matter, Jepson?" he asked in an angry voice. + +"The doctor will tell you, sir. I fear my young mistress is dying." + +He did not answer, but went rapidly to his rooms. They were in the +utmost disorder, the windows open and the rooms empty. He rushed +upstairs then, and Dr. Fleming met him at the door of Theodora's room. + +"Doctor, where is my wife? What is wrong?" + +"She had a long fainting fit, fell heavily, and has, I fear, slight +concussion of the brain." + +"What cause, what reason was there?" + +"Her maid will tell you. I will send her." + +"But I must see my wife first!" + +"You cannot. I shall stay here until I judge it safe to leave her. I +have sent for a competent nurse, and expect her every moment." + +"Surely, doctor--there is no fear--of death." + +"I should not like another lapse of consciousness." + +Robert did not speak. He steadied himself by grasping the baluster, and +the doctor left him, and sent out Ducie. + +"How did this happen, Ducie?" he asked. + +Then Ducie told him everything. She described the way her mistress was +sitting, and the entrance of Mrs. Campbell. She remembered the words, +and the tones in which the conversation had taken place, and the +inability of her mistress to answer the last two questions--the +snatching of the book from the table, and the flinging of it to the end +of the room, and after an emphatic pause she added: "The book was the +Bible, sir." + +Campbell had not spoken a word during Ducie's recital, but at her last +remark he started as if shocked, and then said: "You have told me the +truth, Ducie?" + +"Nothing but the truth. Ask Jepson." + +"I believe you. Go back to your mistress, and as soon as it is possible +tell her I was at the door but not allowed to enter." + +Then he went slowly downstairs, and the talking and exclamations ceased +sharply and suddenly when he entered the dining-room, for his face, and +his intentional silence, was like that which Isabel had not inaptly +compared to a black frost. + +After a short interval, during which he had frozen every one dumb, he +looked steadily at Mrs. Campbell and said: + +"Mother, I am amazed at what I hear." + +"You may well be amazed, Robert," was the answer. "I myself am nearly +distracted," and then she told her story, with much skill and all the +picturesque idioms she fell naturally into when under great emotion. Her +son listened to her as he had listened to Ducie, without question or +comment. He was trying to weigh everything justly, for justice was in +his opinion the cardinal virtue. + +"The dispute arose, then, concerning Dr. Robertson's visit to Theodora?" +he asked. + +"Yes. I had a right to know _why_ he called, and she would not tell me." + +"Theodora had no right to tell you. Out of kindness the reason for his +visit had been kept from you. I will tell you now. He wished Theodora to +sing at the New Year's service, and he called to see what her selection +would be." + +"The organist ought to select the music, not Dora Campbell." + +"Allow me to finish. She chose '_I know that my Redeemer liveth_.'" + +He ceased speaking and took his place at the dinner table. "Order +dinner, Isabel," he added, in a quiet voice. + +Mrs. Campbell was speechless. She was stunned by anger and amazement. +Her lips trembled and her eyes filled with tears--a most extraordinary +exhibition of feeling in her. Isabel with a piteous look directed his +attention to her mother, and he said: + +"Take your chair, mother. I want my dinner. I have had a hard day. The +men at the works are quarrelling and going to strike. I did not require +extra quarrelling at home." + +"I cannot eat, Robert. I will not eat again in this house. I can laugh +at insults from strangers, but when my son connives with his English +wife to deceive me and make me humble myself before her, it is time I +went away--I don't care where to." + +"You have your own house at Saltcoats." + +"It is rented." + +Robert made no remark and the dinner went silently on. Just as it was +finished the doctor asked for Robert, and he left the room to see him. +"Your wife has fallen asleep," he said, "and, Campbell, you must see to +it that she is not awakened for anything less than a fire or an +earthquake." A short conversation followed, and after it Robert went +directly to the library. + +Greatly to his astonishment, his mother followed him there. He laid +aside his cigar, and placed a chair for her. She had now assumed the +only temper likely to influence him, and he was prepared to be amenable +to her plea before she made it. + +"I am sorry, Robert, that you have to bear this trouble. If it was only +me, I would not care. Are you going to turn me and your sisters out of +your house for that strange woman?" + +"That strange woman is my wife. God has told me to leave father and +mother, and cleave unto my wife." + +"It is very hard." + +"Let her alone, and she will not interfere with you." + +"Isabel and Christina know----" + +"Excuse me, she has been very kind and helpful to my sisters. She would +love you all if you would let her." + +"Her singing in the church----" + +"Was a great delight, even to you. We were silent about it, out of +kindness. I will not discuss that subject." + +"Where would you advise us to go?" + +"I do not advise you to go at all." + +"I could not live with your wife if she is going to faint every time she +quarrels with me." + +"Mother, I know all about your quarrel with Theodora. I have heard it +from Jepson and Ducie, and I know what the doctor thinks of it. Allow me +to say your conduct was inexcusable. I would not blame you before the +girls, but that is my opinion." + +"Her silence was so provoking, you don't know, Robert----" + +"I know that no provocation ought to have caused you to make the Bible +the missile of your temper. It was an impious act. I shudder at it." + +"I did not know it was the Bible." + +"Mother, a Bible is known on sight. No other book looks like it. No +form, no shape no color, can hide the Bible. There is a kind of divinity +in this personality of the Book. I have often thought so." + +"I shall sorrow for that act as long as I live, Robert. She made me do +it. Yes, she did!" + +"No, she did not." + +"Why was she reading the Bible at that hour of the day? If it had been +morning or night, I might have thought of it." + +"Theodora reads the Bible at all hours." + +"She does nothing like any one else." + +"Theodora is my wife. I love her. She suits me exactly." + +"And I and your sisters no longer suit you." + +"You are, as I said before, my mother and my sisters. You are Campbells. +That is enough." + +"And, blessed be our ancestors, we are a' pure Campbells! Your father +was o' the Argyle clan, and I was o' the Cawdor clan, but whether +Argyle, Cawdor, Breadalbane, or Laudon, we are a' Campbells. We a' wear +the wild myrtle and we hae a' the same battle-cry, '_Wild Cruachan!_' +and we a' hae hated and loved the same folk and the same things, and +even if I had nae ither claim on yen, I would only require to say, +'Robert Campbell, Margaret Campbell is needing ye.'" + +"You are my mother. That claim includes all claims." + +"Doubly dear for being a Campbell mother." + +"Yes. I am glad and proud of that fact." + +Then she stretched out her hand, and he clasped and held it firmly, as +he walked with her to the door. + +"Good-night, mother!" he said. "I must go to Dora now. We will drop this +day out of our memories." + +Stepping proudly to the lilt of her Campbell eulogy, she went to her +daughters with flashing eyes and a kindling face, and after a few +moments of thrilling silence said: + +"I hae got my way, girls, by the name o' the Campbells. _Dod!_ but it's +the great name! It unlocked his heart like a pass-key--yet I had to +stoop a wee. I had to stoop in order to conquer." + +"Mother, you always manage Robert." + +"I ne'er saw the man I couldna manage, that is, if he was a sober man; +but I'll tak' the management out o' her--see if I don't. I'll mak' her +eat the humble pie she baked for me--I'll hae the better o' the English +huzzy yet--I'll sort her, when I get the right time. I can do naething +o' an extreme nature just yet. It has been a calamitous day, girls, +morning and night. Now, go awa' to your ain rooms, I be to think the +circumstances weel over." + +"Mother, you are a wonderful woman," said Christina. + +"Also a very discreet woman," added Isabel. + +And the old lady walked to the sideboard, filled a glass with wine, +lifted it upwards, and nodding to her daughters, said in a low but +triumphant voice: + +"_Here's to the Campbells! Wha's like us?_" + +At the same moment Robert Campbell was stepping proudly upstairs with a +heart full of racial pride. He had forgotten the ironworks. He was a +Campbell of the Argyle clan, he was kin to all the Breadalbanes, and +Cawdors, and Loudons. He was a Campbell, and all the glory of the large +and powerful family was his glory. At that moment he heard the dirl of +the bagpipes and felt the rough beauty of the thistle, and knew in his +heart of hearts, that he was a son of Scotland, an inheritor of all her +passions and traditions, her loves and her hatreds, and glad and proud +to be so favored. + +But even at this critical hour of his wife's life, he could not be much +blamed, for _all is race_. There is no other truth, because it includes +all others. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +THE NAMING OF THE CHILD + + +It was four weeks before Theodora could leave her room, and for long +afterwards she was an invalid. But in her sickness she had peace, and +the solacing company of her friends, Mrs. Robertson and Mrs. Oliphant; +and as the winter passed her health and strength and beauty returned to +her. This renewed vitality was indeed so certain that the announcement +of the Easter services contained a promise that Mrs. Campbell would sing +some suitable solo. + +At the breakfast table on Easter Sunday, Robert Campbell spoke of this +event to his family. + +"Theodora will sing at this morning's service, mother," he said. + +"The minister has already made fuss enough about the circumstance. There +is no necessity for you to go over the news." + +"I think you had better not go to church this morning." + +"I assure you I intend to go--for your sake. And am I to be denied the +comfort of my Easter sermon, because of a song which I shall not listen +to?" + +"Please yourself. This time you have been warned." + +"I shall do my duty, that always pleases me. And I need no warnings. I +am not a creature made of nerves and fancies. I am afraid of no woman." + +"Christina, as you are so fond of music, Theodora will take you with her +to the organ-loft if you wish." + +"O, brother, how happy I shall be!" + +"Christina Campbell, you will sit decently in our own pew with your +sister and myself." + +"Poor Christina!" said Robert, and he laid his hand kindly on her +shoulder as he passed. + +"Poor Robert! Say that, and you say the truth," answered Mrs. Campbell. + +It was a glorious day, the church and even the aisles were crowded and +the doctor preached the finest sermon of his long pastorate. His tall, +stately form, his piercing eyes, his thin face--austere but tender--were +never so immediate and so solemnly authoritative, and every heart +thrilled as in a grand resonant voice he cried: + +"_Now is Christ risen from the dead, and become the firstfruits of them +that slept._" + +His preaching was usually logical, invasive, not to be forgotten, but +this morning all he said was vitalized by his own lively, living faith. +He had caught the very spirit of Paul, and was carried by it far beyond, +and above all arguments and sequences, until his glowing climax could +find no grander words than: + +"_Now is Christ risen from the dead, and become the firstfruits of them +that slept._" + +To these words he emphatically closed the Testament, and there were a +few moments of profound, sensitive silence. Then, like a lark mounting +heaven-ward, Theodora burst into the triumphant melody: + +"_I know that my Redeemer liveth!_" + +It was an angelic "Amen" to that old sanguine assurance, which possesses +so immovably the heart of humanity. The ecstasy of hope, the surety of +faith, the glory of man's destiny filled with unspeakable joy the whole +building, and many of the reverent souls in it had momentary experience +of + + "_That freer step, that fuller breath, + That wide horizon's grander view, + That sense of life that knows no death, + That life that maketh all things new._" + +For the singer had filled every note of the immortal music with her own +beautiful, happy soul, and the congregation--old and young--went to +their homes loving her. + +Robert's heart burned within him, for while sharing the enthusiasm of +the crowd he had also his personal delight in the knowledge that this +dear, clever woman was his wife, and that she loved him. He went to the +foot of the gallery stairs and waited there for her. He clasped her hand +and looked into her face with beaming eyes as the elders and deacons +gathered round her with eloquent thanks, and all the way home he forgot +every one but Theodora. + +A few days after Easter Sunday, Robert came home earlier than usual, +but he entered his wife's presence with such a pleasant countenance, +that she rose smiling and went to meet him. + +"I have come to tell you something I hope will please you, Dora," he +said. "Mr. Oliphant has taken a furnished villa at Inverkip, and there +is another to let a few hundred yards distant. Inverkip is so near +Glasgow, I could run down to you frequently--always on Friday or +Saturday until Monday. What do you say, if I take the vacant villa?" + +"O, Robert, I should be delighted!" + +"Then I will hire it for the season, and you can have your piano and +books and what other things you wish easily shipped there. Consult Mrs. +Oliphant, she will advise you just what to do." + +"Dear Robert, you make me more happy than I can tell." + +"And the Oliphants will be delighted you are going to be near them. +There may be some nice families there, and it is not unlikely Dr. +Robertson will be of the number." + +All came to pass like a wish, and early in April Theodora was +comfortably settled at Inverkip, and the Oliphants and Dr. Robertson +soon followed her. Inverkip was hardly a fashionable summer resort, but +it was pleasant and secluded, and also beautifully situated--facing +Inellen, and the slopes of Cowal, with a fine background of mountains. + +After a winter in dark, wet, bitter Glasgow, the country in April was +like Paradise. Robert went down with her one lovely Friday, Ducie and +two other servants, with such furniture and ornaments as they thought +necessary, having preceded them nearly a week. So the villa was in +comparative order and a perfect little dinner awaited them. Theodora +experienced a child's enchantment; her simple, eager surprise, her deep +sense of the wonder and beauty of the brooding spring, and her +delightful expression of it, went to Robert's heart. For her tender eyes +were laughing with boundless good humor, her lips parted as if forced to +speak by the inner fulness of her happy heart, and he saw in her + + --"_a soul + Joying to find itself alive, + Lord over Nature, lord of the visible earth, + Lord of the senses five._" + +"There is even a taste of green things in the air, Robert," she said; +"and look at the trees! They are misty with buds and plumes, and tufts +and tassels; and the larches and pines are whispering like a thousand +girls. O, it is heavenly! And listen to the waters running and leaping +down the mountains! It is a tongue of life in the lonely places," and as +she passed the open piano, she stood still, touched a few notes, and +sang in a captivating, simple manner: + + "_O the springtime! the springtime! + Who does not know it well? + When the little birds begin to build, + And the buds begin to swell,_ + + _When the sun and the clouds play hide and seek, + And the lambs are softly bleating; + And the color mounts to the maiden's cheek, + At her lover's tender greeting,-- + In the springtime, in the joyous springtime._" + +Then Robert stayed her simple song, saying: "Let us go and walk in the +garden while I smoke my cigar." And she went gladly, and they walked and +talked together until the soft gray afternoon was verging to purple and +red on the horizon. + +That night her heart was too full of hope and sweet content to let her +sleep. She had not been as happy for many months. She had not been as +hopeful. She told herself this detached life was all that was required +to secure Robert's affection, and that six months of it would make him +impatient of any intrusion into the sacredness of his home. And she was +full of sweet, innocent plans to increase and settle certainly and +firmly the treasure of his love. They kept her waking, so she rose long +before morning, and, opening a casement, looked out into the dusky night +full of stars. She sat there, watching Nature in those ineffable moments +when she is dreaming, until the cold white light of the dawning showed +her the waning moon blue in the west. + +The next day Robert went fishing, and Theodora put in order the china, +crystal, and fine damask, and the books and ornaments she had brought +down to Inverkip. Robert praised what she had done, vowing she would +make the best of housekeepers; and the evening and the next day were +altogether full of love and sweet content. + +Then Robert went back to Glasgow and business, and Mr. and Mrs. Oliphant +and Dr. Robertson's family arrived. The young wife visited and helped +her friends, and they spent long, pleasant evenings at each other's +houses. Theodora said to herself: "Things are not going as badly with me +as I thought, and I wonder if we ever know if bad is bad, or good is +good." + +Many happy weeks followed this initial one and Theodora was grateful for +every pleasant hour, for she was facing the trial and the glory of +maternity and she wished her child's prenatal influences to be favorable +on every side. The social life of Inverkip could not in its present +conditions be called fashionable, and that was a good thing, for few +women can go into fashionable society without catching its fashionable +insanity, whatever it may be at the time. Theodora spent many quiet, +delightful hours with her friends the Oliphants and Robertsons, but her +chief pleasure she took from the hand of Nature. + +Every fine day she was up among the great hills, and it is a bad heart +that is not purified by walking on them. She was passionately fond of +birds, and had the power to attract them to her. Morning and evening she +fed at her dining-room window + + "_The bird that man loves best, + The pious bird with scarlet breast, + The little English robin._" + +They crowded the sweet briar bush that grew beside the window, and +praised and thanked her in the sweetest songs mortal ever heard. The +blue cushat's "croodle" and its mournful love monologue moved her to +sympathetic tears. She was sure the pretty faithful creature had a +forgetful, or unkind mate. The swallows cradling themselves in the air, +and chattering so amiably; the tiny wren's quick, short song; the fond +and faithful bullfinch couples; the honest, respectable thrushes; the +pilfering blackbirds; the nightingale's solemn music in the night; the +lark's velvety, supple, indefatigable song in the early morning--these, +and many more of the winged voices of the firmament, she understood; but +to the humble, poorly-clad lark, she gave an ardent affection. To her it +was a bird of heaven, living on love and light, singing for half-an-hour +without a second's pause, rising vertically a thousand yards as she +sang, without losing a note, and sending earthward exquisite waterfalls +of song. + +In this sane and peaceful life, month after month went onward +delightfully, while she waited in the fulness of health and hope for the +child which God would give her. During these months Robert also had been +happy. Now and then there had been invasions of the lower man, but in +the main he was joyous and amiable, thoughtful for her comfort, and +delighted to share all her hopes and pleasures. He had insisted on his +mother and sisters going to the Bridge of Allan for the summer months, +had given Jepson and Mrs. McNab holiday, and practically closed the +Glasgow house until September. And he had found Inverkip so pleasant, +that he was even more with Theodora than his promise demanded. + +One day near the end of July Mrs. McNab came to Inverkip and called on +Theodora, who was delighted to see her. In a few minutes she began to +take off her bonnet and shawl. "I hae been thinking things o'er," she +said, "and I hae made up my mind to stay wi' you the next four +weeks--for there's nane that I can see about this house fit to take my +place--a wheen lilting lasses, tee-heeing and giggling as if life was a +dance-hall." + +"They are nice, good girls, McNab." + +"They may be, but they are flighty and nervous, and they hae no +experience. I am going to take care o' you and the house mysel'. When +you are sick----" + +"McNab, I am in splendid health." + +"That's a' right. Splendid health you have, and splendid health you will +require, and some one to keep people out o' the house that arena wanted +near it. I am not going awa', so you needna speak the word. Is your ain +mother coming to you?" + +"She cannot. They will have to move next month." + +"Weel, then, you arena to be fretted wi' any other mother, and it will +take an extraordinar' woman--like mysel'--to be all you want, and to +fend off all you don't want. I am gey fond o' newborn babies--poor wee +things, shipwrecked on a cold, bad world--and if there isna some +sensible kind-hearted body wi' your bairn, they will be trying their +auld world tricks wi' it. I shall stay here and see the bonnie wee thing +isna left to their mercy." + +"What do you mean? You frighten me, McNab." + +"I mean, that if the bairn is left to any auld-farrant nurse, she will +wash it in whiskey as soon as it comes into the world, and there is nae +doubt in my mind, that the spirit isna pleasant to the tender skin o' +the poor wean." + +"Oh, McNab! what a dreadful custom!" + +"Weel, it is an auld, auld custom, and though some are giving it up, +there are mair that stick to it. If Mrs. Traquair Campbell should be +here, I'm feared the whiskey bottle would be gey close to the washbowl. +And you wouldna like it." + +"I would not permit it." + +"How would you help it? Tell me that. The only time you managed that +woman you had to nearly die to do it, and I'm not clear that you got the +better o' her then." + +"She will not be here, McNab. She will not be asked." + +McNab snapped her fingers. "'Asked,' is it? She will walk into this +house as if it was her ain. 'It is my son's house,' she will say, and +then she'll proceed to use her son's house as if the de'il had sent her +to destroy everything that belongs to other folk; and day and night +she'll make quarrelling and misery. That's Mrs. Traquair Campbell's way, +and the hale o' her brood is like her." + +"Now, McNab, you know Mr. Robert Campbell is very different. You must +not speak ill of my husband." + +"No, ma'am. There's two Robert Campbells. Ane o' them is weel worth the +love you're giving him; the other is like the auld man that tormented +the Saints themsel's. He'll get kicked out some day, nae doubt o' it." + +"Mr. Campbell told me he had given you a holiday until the first of +September. He spoke very well of you." + +"I have had mair holiday than I want now." + +"Where were you?" + +"I was in Edinburgh, seeing the world and the ways o' it." + +"What did you think of the world and its ways?" + +"I dinna think them fit to talk about. I'll go now, and give things a +bit sort up. I'll warrant them requiring the same." + +So McNab got--or rather took--her way, and soon after appeared in the +kitchen in her large white mutch and apron. "Now, lasses," she said in +her most commanding manner, "I am come here on a special invite to keep +you and the house in order during the tribulation o' the mistress. But +you'll find me a pleasant body to live wi', if you behave yoursel's and +let the lads alane. If you don't, you will find you have got to do wi' +the Mischief." + +"The lads, ma'am?" said a smart young lassie; "the lads! We have not a +particle o' use for them--auld or young." + +"What's your name?" + +"Maggie." + +"Weel, Maggie, you are a sensible lass, and you may now make Mistress +McNab--that's mysel'--a cup o' tea, and if there's a slice o' cold beef +or a bit o' meat pie in the house----" + +"There's neither meat nor pie in the house." + +"Then, Maggie, gie me a rizzard haddie wi' my tea. I'm easy pleased +except wi' dinner. A good dinner is a fixed fact wi' me, and when I've +had a cup o' tea I'll feel mair like Flora McNab. At the present hour, +I'm fagged and wastered, and requiring a refreshment. That's sure!" + +At first Theodora did not feel satisfied with McNab's gratuitous offer +of service, but Robert quickly made her so. "I am delighted," he said. +"I have known the woman ever since I can remember. She stood by my +father in his long sickness as faithfully as she stands by you. I can +never be uneasy about my wife if McNab is with her." + +So McNab took the place she had chosen, and the house was soon aware of +her presence. There were more economy, better meals, perfect discipline, +and a refreshing sense of peace and order. For she had a rare power of +ruling, and also of making those ruled pleased to be so. Thus, for two +weeks, Theodora had a sense of pause and rest that was strengthening +both to the inner and outer woman. Then in the secret silence of the +midnight, her fear was turned into joy, for McNab laid her first-born +son in her arms and Robert knelt at her side, his heart brimming with +love and thanksgiving. And had he fully realized the blessing given, he +would have known it was, Thy Kingdom come, from the cradle. + +Surely this great event would make all things new! This was Theodora's +constant thought and hope, and for a while it seemed to do so. But the +readiness with which we come to accept rare and great blessings as +customary is one of the most common and ungrateful of our blasphemies +against the Father from whom all blessings flow. And very soon the +beautiful babe became as usual as the other everyday incidents of life, +to all excepting his mother and McNab. Robert, indeed, was fond and +proud of him, and as long as they remained in Inverkip the little fellow +was something new that belonged to himself in a manner wonderful and +satisfying. + +But with the return of the family to Glasgow, the child lost the charm +of the Inverkip environment. In Traquair House he received even from his +father only the Campbell affection, which had no enthusiasms, no baby +talk, no petting, no foolish admirations. It was almost impossible for +the mother to accept this change of attitude with nonchalance, or even +cheerfulness. She could not withstand the influence of the dull, gray +house, and the toiling, moiling, money-grabbing city, though she felt +intuitively that the influence of both was inimical to her domestic +happiness. For the house was impregnated with the Campbell personality, +so much so that the very apparatus of their daily life had become +eloquent of the moods of those they ministered to; and Theodora often +felt as if the sofas and chairs in their rooms resented her use of them. + +A prepossession of this kind was an unhappy one, and easily affiliated +itself with the spirit of the house, which was markedly a quarrelsome +spirit. Nurtured and indulged for more than two generations, it had +become an inflexible, almost an invincible one. All Theodora's smiling +efforts, all her charms and entreaties had failed to conciliate, or even +appease its grudging resentment. It was a piteous thing that the first +trouble after her return to Glasgow, should be concerning the child. +Robert had been pleased by the assurance of his friends in Inverkip that +his son resembled him in an extraordinary manner. He was himself sure of +this resemblance, though Theodora could only see "that difference in +sameness" often enough pronounced between fathers and sons. + +Mrs. Campbell scouted the idea. She said: "The child had not a single +Campbell feature or trait. He did not even suck his tongue, a trick all +the Campbell babies had, as McNab knew right well. And she understood +there had not been a single Campbell in the room when he was born--an +important and significant mistake that never could be rectified. She +could only say, and she always would say, that the boy was Theodora's +child." + +"I hope he is," answered Robert, who was nettled by the criticism. "He +cannot do better than take after his mother in every way." + +"And I am fairly shocked, Robert," she continued, "that the +child--who's ever it is--hasna yet been baptized. Seven weeks old and +not baptized! I never heard the like. My children were covenanted +Christians before they were two weeks old. It was my first thought for +them." + +"Well, mother, we wanted to be quite sure of the name. A boy's name +means much to him when he becomes a man." + +"There is but one name proper for the child, that is his grandfather's." + +"Do you mean Traquair?" asked Robert. + +"Yes, Traquair--a fine family name." + +Theodora looked entreatingly at Robert, and he understood her dissent +and shared it. + +"Mother," he answered, "I have a great objection to Traquair." + +"Objection! Pray, why?" + +"It was not a fortunate name for my father. It is not a good business +name." + +"My father was a Traquair, and he made a great deal of money." + +"Your father was called Donald Traquair. That is different. Traquair is +a good family name, but it is not a good Christian name." + +"We could call him Donald," said Theodora. "Donald is a good name, +though I think Robert likes David best of all." + +"David!" ejaculated Mrs. Campbell with anger. "I will have no David +Campbells in this house! I will not suffer my grandson to be called +David. It was like you to propose it." + +"I thought it would please you. I am quite willing my son should be +called David." + +"I think David is a very good name," said Robert, but his opinion was +given with that over-decision which cowardice assumes when it forces +itself to assertion. + +"To have a David Campbell in the house will be a great annoyance to me," +continued Mrs. Campbell. "It will be enough to make me hate the child." + +Then Theodora left the room. She felt that the argument had gone as far +as it was likely to be reasonable. In a short time Robert followed her +and his face wore a look of vexation and perplexity. + +"Have you decided on the name yet, Robert?" she asked. + +"No." + +"Why not call him after yourself?" + +"Because in the course of time I should likely be compelled to write +'senior' after my own name. I do not care to look forward to that. +Mother has set her mind on Traquair." + +"It is the only Scotch name I object to. It has not one noble +association. If you say Robert, you think of Robert Bruce, and Robert +Burns, and a score of other great men. Call him Donald, or Dugald, or +Duncan, or Angus, or Hector, or Alexander, they are all Christian names +and will not subject the little lad when he goes among the boys and men, +to mockery. Traquair will give them two objectionable nicknames--Tray, +which is a dog's name, and Quair will easily slip into queer. Think of +it--Tray Campbell, or Queer Campbell. It will not do, Robert." + +"No. Traquair will not do. It will not do." + +"There is one good reason for not calling the child Robert, not the +'senior' reason at all. I want you to keep and make famous your own +name. You are really a good natural orator. I noticed your speech, and +its delivery at Dr. Robertson's dinner, when we were at Inverkip. It was +the best speech made. It was finely delivered. You are rich and going to +be richer; why not cultivate your gift, and run for Parliament? No one +can put political views into a more sensible and eloquent speech than +Robert Campbell." + +"I think you overrate my abilities, Dora," replied Robert, but he spoke +with a kind of musing satisfaction. + +"No, you could become a good speaker, and if you wish, I am sure you may +write M. P. after your name. Why not decide on David? You love your big +brother yet. You never speak of him without emotion. He will come back +to you, I am sure. And how proud you will be to say: 'I never forgot +you, David. I called my first-born son after you.'" + +"You are right, Dora, you are right. The boy's name is David. I have +said it and it shall be so. Mother must give way. She must remember for +once, that we have some feelings and prejudices as well as herself." + +At that moment Ducie entered with the child, and Theodora took him in +her arms and said: "Ducie, the baby is to be called David." Then she +kissed the name on his lips and he opened his blue eyes and smiled at +her. + +The next Sabbath the child was solemnly baptized David, and Robert +entered his name in the large family Bible, which had been the first +purchase he made for his home after Theodora had accepted him. + +But in neither ceremony did Mrs. Traquair Campbell take any part. She +did not go to church, and when Robert asked her to come into his parlor +and see the entry of her grandson's name in the Book, she refused. All +of the household were present but the infant's grandmother and aunts; +and all blessed the child as Theodora put him a moment into the arms of +the women present. McNab kissed him, and made a kind of apology for the +act, saying she "never could help kissing a boy baby, since she was a +baby hersel', and even if it were a girl baby a bit bonnie, she whiles +fell easy into the same infirmity." + +In this case Theodora gained her desire, and some will say she gained it +by flattering her husband. It would be fairer to say by _admiring_ her +husband. A wise wife knows that in domestic diplomacies, admiration is a +puissant weapon. In a great many cases it is better than love. Men are +not always in the mood to be loved, their minds may be busy with things +naturally antagonistic to love; and to show a warmth that is not shared +is a grave mistake. But all men are responsive to admiration. It +succeeds where reasoning and arguing and endearments fail. For the +person admired feels that he is believed in, and trusted. He has nothing +to explain and nothing to justify, and this attitude makes the wheels of +the household run smoothly. + +Is then Theodora to be blamed? If so, there are an unaccountable number +of women, yesterday, to-day, and forever, in the same fault. It would be +safe to say there is not a happy household in the land where the wives +and mothers do not use many such small hypocrisies. Is there any wife +reading this sentence, who has not often made a pleasant evening for her +whole family, by a few admiring or sympathizing words? For though a +woman will go through hard work and distracting events without praise or +sympathy, a man cannot. If admiration and kindness fail him, he flies to +the black door of oblivion by drink, or drugs, or a pistol shot. A man +with a wife whose sympathy and admiration can be relied on, is never +guilty of that sin. Is there a good wife living who has not pretended +interest in subjects she really cares nothing about; who has not +listened to the same stories a hundred times, and laughed every time; +who does not in some way or other, violate her own likes or dislikes, +tastes or opinions every day in the week in order to induce a household +atmosphere which it will be pleasant to live in? + +This is not the place to discuss the ethics of this universal custom. +Women, with reckless waste have always flung themselves into the +domestic gulf. They choose to throw away their own happiness in order to +make others happy, forgetting too often that _they who injure themselves +shall not be counted innocent_. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE NEW CHRISTINA + + +Home is not ruined in a day, and it is wonderful what rack and strain +and tugging the marriage tie will bear ere it snaps asunder. For three +years and a half after the birth of the child, Theodora was subjected to +an unwearying hostility, always finding fresh reasons for complaint and +injustice. And it was a cruel symptom of this intentional malice, that +it took as its usual vehicle, little David. He could do nothing right. +Baby as he was, his grandmother found him to be a child of many sinful +proclivities. She was never weary of pointing out his faults. "He looked +so vulgarly English, he had no Scotch burr in his speech; he walked +wrong, he made her peaceful home a Bedlam of crying and shouting. He was +naturally rude, he would scarcely answer his aunts if they spoke to him; +and if she herself but came near him, he ran away and hid himself in his +mother's arms. He was also shockingly fond of low company. He could not +be coaxed into her room, but was never out of the kitchen; and one day +she had found him sitting on the pastry table, watching McNab make the +tarts." At this charge Robert smiled and asked: + +"Why does not Ducie keep him out of the kitchen? She ought to do so." + +"She likes to be there herself. I think it would be well to send her +back to Kendal at once. There is no necessity for a nurse now, and the +boy ought to be learning how to care for himself--you did so before you +were his age. And really, Robert, keeping a maid for Dora is a most +unnecessary expense; it also makes a great deal of trouble among the +house-servants. The girl is always quarrelling with them about her +mistress, and pitying them about their mistress. I fancy Dora makes an +equal of her." + +"That is not Dora's way, mother. And the girl is not only a nurse, she +attends to our rooms also." + +"The house chambermaid could do that." + +"Could she do it the first thing in the morning?" + +"Do you think Dora's rooms ought to be attended to before mine?" + +"Dora likes them to be put in order early, and I am willing to pay for +her wish." + +"More fool you! I dare be bound, she cleaned her own room before you +married her." + +"If she had married Lord Thurson, instead of me, he would have given her +a dozen maids had she wished them." + +"Do you think I believe that romancing about Lord Thurson? I am not such +a born idiot. You cannot persuade me, that two men in the world wanted +to marry Dora Newton. _Hout, tout!_ Men are feckless enough, but not +that crazy." + +Such conversations as this occurred usually in the library after dinner +where Mrs. Campbell now made a point of visiting her son. For this end, +she had conquered her dislike both of the room and his tobacco, and +there she carried all the small gossip and worries of the household. And +Robert soon began to enjoy this visit, and the tale-bearing suspicions +and arguments that enlivened it. It pleased him to feel that he knew all +that was going on in the house, and he also liked to know whether +Theodora had been out or not, whether she had dressed for calling or +walking, and, if she had not left the house, how she had been occupied, +what callers she had had, and how many letters she had received. He was +not even averse to knowing the post-office stamps of these letters. + +And when men indulge this petty weakness, they soon learn to enjoy its +humbling cruelties and its mean triumphs, hardly considering that under +such a disintegrating process all domestic happiness crumbles inwardly +away. Thus Robert grew indifferent to the woman he so pitilessly +analyzed, and fell gradually into the godless, thankless quiescence of +getting used to happiness. It was then easy to regard what had once been +a miraculous blessing as a thing monotonous and commonplace. + +With Theodora, he had now little companionship. He had ceased to consult +her about anything, they neither wept nor rejoiced together, they did +not even quarrel, and no legal bill of divorce could have more +effectually separated them than did this moral divorce, in which there +was neither disputing nor forgiveness. But though Theodora consented to +this evil condition outwardly, as a form of sacrifice for David's sake, +inwardly she knew it to be overcome. She bore it cheerfully, despised +its power, and ignored as much as possible its presence. + +Had she been left to herself she must have broken down under the +unceasing tension, but constantly visited by the _not herself_, she +lifted up her head, and when urged too fiercely, walked her lonely room +with God, and dared to tell Him all the sorrow in her heart. Her +disappointment had been dreadful, but God's pity had touched the great +mistake, and she was now waiting as patiently and cheerfully as possible +for the finality sure to come. + +So far she had hid her wrongs and her disillusions in her heart; not +even to her parents had she complained. The heart-breaking cruelties +from which she suffered were not recognized by the law, and they were +screened from the world by the closed doors of domestic life. So she had +bowed both her heart and her head, and was dumb to every one but her +Maker. He alone knew her in those days of utter desolation, when her +wronged and wounded soul retired from all earthly affections to that +Eternal Love always waiting our hour of need. + +At this time it was the once snubbed and depressed Christina who +dominated Traquair House. From her first interview with Theodora, she +had resolved to become like her. With patient zeal she had studied and +acquired whatever Theodora had recommended. And quickly divining the +bent of her intellectual faculties, Theodora had educated that bent to +perfection. The correct technique of the piano was already known to +Christina, but Theodora directed it into its proper channel of +expression, and showed her how to put a soul into her playing and +singing. She found for her the most delicate and humorous portions of +literature, and taught her how to recite them. She made her free of all +the secrets of beautiful dressing, and urged her to do justice to her +person; until very gradually the commonplace Christina had flowered into +an attractive woman. + +In the third year of Theodora's married life Christina had begun to +dress herself with a rich and almost fastidious elegance, and, as +frequently happens, she put on with her fine clothing a certain amount +of genius and authority. No one snubbed her now, for she had made a +distinct place for herself in the special set the Traquair Campbells +affected--the rich religious set--and her definite and agreeable +accomplishments caused her to be eagerly sought for every entertainment +in that set. She had begun to have admirers, flowers were sent to her +and gentlemen called upon her, and she received invitations from them to +concerts, lectures, and such national and therefore correct plays, as +_Rob Roy_ and _Macbeth_. This social admiration developed her +self-appreciation and self-reliance to a wonderful extent. She was no +longer afraid of any member of her family, and they were secretly very +proud of her. + +Mrs. Campbell talked of her daughter's social triumphs constantly. "Your +sister is the belle of every occasion, Robert," she said to her son. +"She has as many as five and six callers every day; she has been named +in the papers as 'the lovely and accomplished Miss Christina Campbell'; +she has numerous lovers to tak' her choice o', and tell me, my lad, +whaur's your Theodora now!" She tossed her head triumphantly to the +scornful laugh with which she asked the question. + +"Mother, you know that Dora has made Christina all she is. Be honest, +and confess that." + +"'Deed I will not. The beauty and the talents were a' in the lassie. +Dora may have said a word now and then, and showed her a thing or two, +here and there, but the gifts were Christina's, and the lassie's ain +patient wark has brought them to their perfection. That's a crowned +truth and I'll suffer no contradiction to it. We shall have to order her +wedding feast vera soon. I have not a doubt o' that." + +"I hope she will have the sense not to overlook the baronet in her train +of admirers." + +"You're meaning Sir Thomas Wynton?" + +"Yes. He is quite in the mind to buy a handsome share in the works, and +his name and money would be a great thing for us. I intend to bring him +here to dinner to-morrow. Tell Christina I am looking to her to bring +him into the family, and into the works." + +"I'll be no such fool, Robert Campbell. I shall say nothing anent Sir +Thomas, save the particular fact of his coming here to dinner. Little +you know o' women, if you think any lassie can be counselled to marry +the man she ought to marry." + +"Take your own way with her, mother, but mind this--the securing of Sir +Thomas Wynton will be a special providence for the Campbells. He has one +hundred thousand pounds to invest, and I cannot bear to think of him +carrying all that capital anywhere but to the Campbell furnaces." + +"I'll manage it. Never fear, Robert, Christina shall be my lady +Christina and you shall have the Wynton siller to trade with. It will be +a righteous undertaking for me, for it is fairly sinful in Sir Thomas, +hiding his hundred thousand talents--as it were--in a napkin. A bank is +no better than a napkin; money is just folded away in it; and money is +made round that it may roll. The Campbell works will set the hundred +thousand pieces rolling and gathering more, and more, and still more. +_Losh!_ it makes me tremble to think of them going out o' the Campbell +road. That would be an unthinkable calamity." + +"If you can manage it, mother, it----" + +"'If'--there's no 'if' in the matter." She smiled and nodded, and seemed +so sure of success, that Robert found it difficult to refrain himself +from making certain calculations, dependent upon a larger capital. + +The next day at noon Mrs. Campbell remarked in a tone of inconvenience, +or household discomfort: "I believe, girls, your brother is going to +bring Sir Thomas Wynton home with him to-night. I am fairly wearied of +the man's name." + +"He is a very fine gentleman, mother," said Christina. + +"He is auld, and auld-farrant." + +"He is not over forty-five, and he is far from being old-fashioned. He +is up to the nick of the times in everything." + +"Your brother never thinks of any manly quality but money. He says Sir +Thomas is rich. I wouldn't wonder if he has only the name o' riches. +But, rich or poor, he is coming to dinner, and I be to see McNab anent +the eatables. A very moderate dinner will do, I should say." + +"Make the finest dinner you can, mother, and it will be only a pot-luck +affair to Sir Thomas," answered Christina. "He is rich, and he is +powerful in politics, and he has one of the finest castles in +Midlothian. He is well worth a good dinner, mother, and Robert will like +to see he has one." + +"What do you say, Isabel?" + +"I say Robert is worth pleasing, mother. The other man is a problem, +perhaps it may be worth while to please him, perhaps not. The negatives +generally win, I've noticed that." + +"Well, well! The dinner is all we can cater for--there's accidentals +anent every affair, and they are beyont us, as a rule. Are either of you +going out this afternoon?" + +"There is nothing to take me out," said Isabel. + +"I was out late last night," said Christina. "I shall rest this +afternoon. Sir Thomas is rather a weariness. We shall all be thankful +when he makes his court bow and says, 'Good-night, ladies! I have had a +perfectly delightsome evening.'" She boldly mimicked the baronet's +broad Scotch speech and courtly debonair manner, without any fear of the +cold silence, or cutting reproofs her mimicry used to provoke. + +No more was said, and the girls did not take Sir Thomas Wynton into +their conversation. He appeared to be a person of no importance to them. +As they were parting Isabel asked: "What will you wear to-night, +Christina?" and Christina answered: "I have not thought of my dress +yet--what will you wear?" + +"My gray silk, trimmed with black lace." + +"Put on white laces; they are more becoming." + +"The dress is ready for the Social Club at the church, Friday. Why +should I alter it for a couple of hours to-night? I wish you would wear +your rose satin. You look so bonnie in it." + +"I'll not don it for Sir Thomas Wynton! I wish to wear it at Mrs. +Bannerman's dinner Thursday, and Wynton is sure to be there. I don't +want him to think I wore my best dress for him only. It would set him up +too high." + +But if she did not wish to wear her rose satin for Sir Thomas, she +appeared in a far more effective costume--a black Maltese lace gown, +trimmed with bright rose-colored bows of satin ribbon. Her really fine +arms were bare from the elbows, her square-cut neck showed a beautifully +white, firm throat, and the glow of the ribbons was over her neck and +arms, and touched the dress here and there charmingly. A bright red rose +showed among the manifold braids of her black hair, and she had in her +hand a rose-colored fan, with which she coquetted very prettily. + +Robert was charmed with her appearance, and told her so. "I want you to +charm Sir Thomas Wynton for me," he added. "It is desirable that I +should have him for a business partner. Do you understand?" + +She laughed, and putting her fan before her face asked in a whisper: +"What will you give me, Robert, if I win him for you?" + +"Five hundred pounds," he said promptly. + +"Done!" she replied, and then, hearing the door open, she turned to see +Sir Thomas Wynton entering. She went to meet him with a laughing welcome +and with both hands extended. She sat at his side during dinner and kept +him laughing, and when she left the dining-room ordered him with a +pretty authority to be in the drawing-room for tea, in forty-five +minutes. And he took out his watch, noted the time, and promised all she +asked. + +In forty-five minutes exactly, he appeared in the drawing-room. Jepson +was serving tea, and Christina's cup stood on the piano, for as Robert +and Sir Thomas entered the room she was playing with lively, racy +spirit, the prelude to the inimitably humorous song of "_The Laird o' +Cockpen_." Sir Thomas went at once to her side, and when he spoke to +her, she answered him with the musical, mocking words: + + "_The laird of Cockpen he's proud, and he's great, + His mind is taen up wi' the things o' the State_," etc. + +Sir Thomas listened with peals of laughter, and Robert and Mrs. Campbell +joined in the merriment. Even Isabel was unable to preserve the usual +stillness of her face, though she was far more interested in the singer +than the song. Where had all these charming coquetries, this mirth and +melody been hidden in the old Christina? This was not the Christina she +had known all her life. "It is Theodora's doing," she thought, "and not +one of us have given her one word of thanks. It is too bad! And I am +sure she stayed in her own room to-night, to give Christina a fair +field, and no rival. She is a good woman. I wish mother could like her." + +The whole evening was a triumph for Christina. She sang "_Sir John +Cope_" with irresistible raillery, and roused every Scotch feeling in +her audience with "_Bannocks o' Barley Meal_," and "_The Kail Brose of +Auld Scotland_." She told her most amusing stories, and finally induced +Sir Thomas Wynton and her brother, mother, and sister to join her in the +parting song of "_Auld Lang Syne_." Then, with evident reluctance, Sir +Thomas went away, "thoroughly bewitched in a' his five senses," as he +confessed later. Christina knew it, for ere she bid her brother +good-night, she found an opportunity to whisper: + +"You will owe me five hundred pounds very soon." + +"I will pay it," he answered, and she looked backward at him with a +laugh. Then he turned to his mother and said: "Who would have believed +that Christina had all this fun and mischief in her?" + +"Ah, well, Robert," answered Mrs. Campbell, "Scotch girls don't put all +their goods in the window. They hold a deal in reserve and there's none +but the one man can ever bring it out o' them. I'm thinking Sir Thomas +is the one man, in Christina's mind." + +"I hope so." + +"I have not such a thing as a doubt left." + +"Do you tell me that, mother?" + +"Yes, I took good notice, and she seemed to be on a very easy footing +with him. I'll give him a week to think things o'er, but the marriage o' +Christina Campbell and Sir Thomas Wynton is certain." + +"We will not go quite that far yet, mother, but I think this evening's +events warrant that presumption." + +While this conversation was in progress, Christina was going upstairs, +and her quick, strong steps were in singular contrast to the slow, inert +movements of the Christina of a few years previous. At Theodora's +bedroom door she paused irresolutely for a few moments, but finally +tapped at it. Theodora herself answered the summons. She was in a long, +white gown, and her face was white as the linen. + +"Are you ill, Dora?" Christina asked. + +"No, I am sleepy. Have you had a pleasant evening?" + +"Yes. All went to my wish. Every honor was in my hand, but if you had +been present honors would have been easy, if not entirely in your hand. +It was kind of you to give me this free opportunity, and I feel sure I +have won the game. Good-night." + +"Good-night. You are looking unusually handsome." + +"This dress is becoming. Good-night," and she went gaily away, timing +her steps to the music of the last line of her conquering song: + + "_And the late Mistress Jean, is my Lady Cockpen_," + +laughing softly to herself as she closed her door. For she knew that she +had won Sir Thomas Wynton, and her sharp little bit of a soul had +already caught a keen sight of the further triumphs awaiting her. She +would travel, she would be presented at many courts, she would entertain +splendidly at Wynton Castle, she would be kind to Theodora, and +patronize and protect her and she would make the hearts of the +Campbelton set sick with envy. So she went to sleep planning a future +for herself, of the most stupendous self-pleasing. + +But within one week her most unlikely plans had assumed an air of +certainty. Sir Thomas Wynton had formally asked Mrs. Campbell for her +daughter's hand, and Miss Christina Campbell been recognized as the +future Lady Wynton. Then her world was at her feet, every one did her +homage, and brought her presents, and praised her for having done so +well to herself. And she took the place in the household accorded her +without dissent and without apologies, and ordered her outgoings and +incomings as she desired. + +At first the middle of June had been named for the marriage, but before +long the date was forwarded to the eighteenth of April, for Sir Thomas +was an ardent lover and would hear of no delaying. Then the house was in +a kind of joyful hurry from morning to night, and Christina spent her +days between the shops and her dressmaker, and not even Sir Thomas could +get a glimpse of her until the day's pleasant labor was over. At first +Mrs. Campbell went with her daughter on these shopping expeditions, and +sometimes Isabel accompanied them, but soon the various demands of the +coming event gave the elder ladies abundant cares, and Christina was +permitted to manage her shopping and fitting as she thought best. So +then she gained daily in self-assertion, and soon submitted to no +dictation even from her brother. But Sir Thomas was a lover sure to make +any woman authoritative, for he submitted gladly to all his mistress's +whims, obeyed all her orders, and grew every hour more and more +infatuated with his charming Christina. The most expensive flowers and +fruits were sent to her daily, the Wynton jewels were being reset for +her use, and Wynton Castle elaborately decorated and furnished for its +new mistress. Christina, indeed, was now drinking a full cup of +long-delayed happiness, and late as it was, finding the dew of her +long-lost youth. + +Mrs. Campbell shared her daughter's triumphant satisfaction. To all her +kinfolk, married and unmarried, male and female, she wrote little notes +brimming with pride and false humility, and expatiating on Sir Thomas +Wynton's rank, wealth and power, his handsome person, and his deep +devotion to her daughter; piously trusting that "her dear child might +not be lured from the narrow path of godliness, in which she had been so +carefully trained." + +So in these days Christina was busy and happy, and mistress of all she +desired. Yet as the wedding-day approached, she became nervous and +irritable; she said she was weary to death, and wanted to sleep for a +month. No one cared to cross her in the smallest matter, though her +family devotion never deserted her. This feeling was strongly +exemplified about two weeks before the wedding-day, in a few words said +to her brother one evening when they were alone in the dining-room. + +"Robert," she asked, "how near are you to the hundred thousand you +expected? You have paid me the five hundred pounds promised. I should +like to know if I have earned it. How near are you to your desire?" + +"Near enough." + +"Has he signed the papers yet?" + +"No." + +"Why?" + +"I have not pressed the matter." + +"You are foolish. It will be easier to get his signature before we are +married, than after." + +"You suspicious woman! Men keep their word about money matters, +Christina. Don't you know that?" + +"No." + +"Well, of course you don't. You know nothing about men." + +"You are satisfied, are you?" + +"I am perfectly satisfied." + +"And sure?" + +"And positively sure." + +A week later she asked again, though in a joking manner, "if he had +secured that signature?" and Robert answered in a tone of annoyance: + +"Do not trouble yourself anent my money matters, Christina." + +Then she laughed and said: "When I am Lady Wynton, I may find many other +ways for the spending of that hundred thousand of lying siller." + +"I can trust you," replied Robert. "When you are Lady Wynton, you will +not cease to be Christina Campbell, and Campbells stand shoulder to +shoulder all the world over." + +At these words she gave him her hand, and he clasped it tightly between +his own. No further words were necessary. Robert knew assuredly that his +sister's influence would always be in his favor, never against him. + +As she left her brother, Mrs. Campbell called her, and with a slight +reluctance she went into the familiar room. + +"What is it you want with me, mother?" she asked, quickly adding, "I am +very busy to-day." + +"I want to tell you, Christina, that I have had the small room behind +this room prepared for your trunks. They ought to have been here +yesterday. Are your dresses not finished? It is high time they were." + +"Some are finished, others are not." + +"Those that are finished had better be sent here at once." + +There was a moment's pause, and then Christina said decidedly: "None of +my bride things are coming here, mother. When they are all in perfect +order they will be sent to my future home." + +"To Wynton Castle?" + +"Of course. They will be quite safe there." + +"Safe! What do you mean, miss? And pray, why are your bride clothes sent +to Wynton Castle, instead of to Traquair House? I insist on knowing +that." + +"Because Traquair House is notoriously unlucky to bride clothes. Poor +Theodora's pretty things were all ruined by those dreadful Campbelton +people. You said your bride things were treated in the same way. Very +well, I am determined that none of my trunks shall be broken open and +rifled, and so I am sending them to where they will be guarded and +respected." + +"You are acting in a shameful, and most unusual manner, and I command +you to send your trunks here. I will be responsible for their safety." + +"Thank you, mother, but I have already made excellent arrangements for +their security." + +"I consider your behavior abominable. It is an outrage on your mother's +love and honor." + +"Theodora trusted you, and you allowed a lot of vulgar, unscrupulous +women to ransack her trunks, wear her new dresses dirty, and spoil all +they touched, and carry away with them neckwear and jewelry they had no +right to touch. I will not give them so much opportunity to injure me. +You ought not to wish me to do so." + +"Christina Campbell, your behavior is beyond all excuse, it is almost +beyond all forgiveness. Isabel, tell your sister her duty." + +Then Isabel said in a slow, positive voice: "I think Christina is right. +You know, mother, the Campbelton people will come to the marriage, and +after Christina has gone, who will be able to restrain them? Not you. It +is quite certain that they ruined poor Dora's home-coming, and made her +begin her life here, at sixes and sevens." + +"Poor Dora! What do you mean?" + +"I mean, mother, that the opening of her trunks, and the use of her +clothing was a shameful thing. I have often said so, and I will always +say so." + +"Do not dare to say it to me again. I will not listen to such nonsense, +and as for you, Christina Campbell, you are an ungrateful child, and you +are cocking your head too high, and somewhat too early. Wait until you +are Lady Wynton, before you put on ladyship airs." + +"Look you, mother, once and for all time, my trunks are not coming near +Traquair House. I am as good as married, and I will not be ordered about +like a child; it is out of the question." + +"_Dod!_ but you are full of bouncing, swaggering words. And what good +girl ever sent her bridal clothes away, without letting her mother see +them? What in heaven and earth will you do next?" + +"I shall be delighted, if you will come with me to Madame Bernard's +rooms this morning. I have asked you frequently to do so. You always +refuse." + +"I intended to examine them here, at my leisure." + +"And as to what I shall do next, you will see that very shortly. I am +very sorry, mother, to disappoint you, but after I am married you can +see me wearing the dresses, and----" + +"I do not wish to see them at all now." + +"Very well." + +"All your life, until lately, you have been a good obedient daughter; +the change in you is the work of that wicked, wicked woman Dora Newton." + +"All my life until lately, I was kept in a state of nothingness--but I +am no longer a nonentity. I have come into a human existence, and you +are right, it is Dora Campbell's doing, and I wish I knew how to thank +her." + +"It would be thanking the devil, for teaching you to sin." + +"Mother, you are spoiling my day, and I have a great deal to do. +Good-morning, or will you come with me?" + +"I will not come one footstep with you. How can you expect it?" + +At these words Christina left the room, and Mrs. Campbell began a +complaint illustrated by sobs, and sighs, and intermittent tears. She +told Isabel that all the pleasure she expected from her child's marriage +had been taken from her. She confessed that she had spoken a little to +many people of the rich and beautiful presents Christina had received, +and now she would not be able to show one of them; and no one would +believe what she had said--and she could not blame people if they did +not. "Oh, Isabel!" she cried, "for my sake, and for all our sakes, +Christina must send her trunks here for a week or two. Do try and +persuade her. She always listens to you." + +"It is quite useless, mother; she has made up her mind to send them to +her new home. I rather think some have gone there already, for two weeks +ago there were eight trunks at madame's, and last week I only saw +three." + +"Why did you not tell me? Oh, why did you not give me a chance to +persuade the cruel, selfish girl? So wrong! So wicked! So ungrateful! +You know, Isabel, I gave her five hundred pounds to buy that very +clothing--I had a right to see it--yes, I had--I had--and it is +shameful!" + +"Mother, you could have gone with Christina to her dressmaker's. You +could not expect her to bring all her things here, they would certainly +have been shown and handled--they might have been ill-used as Dora's +pretty clothes were. Oh, mother, I do not blame Christina at all! I +think she acted for the best." + +"So you also are joining the enemy--getting Newtonized like Christina. +Do you also hope to become a beauty, and a belle, and marry a baronet?" + +"Mother, you are throwing sarcasm away. I have no hopes left for myself. +It is too late for me to develop in any direction." + +"Whose fault is that?" + +"Destiny's fault, I suppose. I was nursing the sick, when I ought to +have been in school and in society." + +Mrs. Campbell did not answer this reproach. Destiny was a good enough +apology. No one could thwart Destiny. She at least was not to blame for +the wrongs of Destiny. She sat dourly still and silent, the very image +of resentful disappointment. The silence was indeed so profound, that +one could hear the passage of Isabel's needle through the silk she was +sewing, and for ten minutes both women maintained the attitude they had +taken. + +Then Isabel--holding her needle poised ready for the next stitch--looked +at her mother. Her expression of hopeless defeat was pathetic, and her +silent, motionless endurance of it, touched Isabel's heart as tears and +complaints never could have done. She rose and, taking her mother's +dropped hand, said: + +"Never mind, mother. You will often see Christina wearing her fineries +in her grand new home. That will be far better than taking them out of a +trunk to look at." + +"Isabel, I care nothing about seeing them. I wanted to show them. People +will never believe she got all I said she did." + +"Why should you care whether they believe it or not? And why not pay the +newspapers to make a notice of them. They will send some youngster here +to item them, and you can give him a sovereign, and a glass of wine, and +then you can give Christina all the wonderfuls you like--even to the +half, or the whole, of Sir Thomas Wynton's estate." + +"That is the plan, Isabel. I'm glad you thought of it." + +"Robert is gey fond of a newspaper notice. He'll pay the sovereign +without a grumble." + +"I'm sure you are an extraordinar' comfort, Isabel." + +"And I thought you were going to order the wedding cake this morning. +There is really no time to lose, mother." + +"You are right, Isabel, and I must just put back my own sair heartache +and look after the ungrateful, thrawart woman's wedding cake. It's +untelling what I have done for Christina, and the upsetting ways o' her +this morning and the words she said, I'll never forget. I shall come +o'er them in my mind as long as I live; and I'll tell her what I think +of her behavior, whenever I find a proper opportunity." + +"Very well, mother. Tell her flatly your last thought; it will be the +best way." + +"I will." + +"But do go about the cake at once. It is important, and there's none but +yourself will be heeded." + +Then with a long, deep sigh, she went slowly out of the room, and Isabel +watched her affected weakness and indifference with a kind of scornful +pity. For women see through women, know intuitively their little tricks +and make-beliefs, and for this very reason a daughter's love for her +mother--however devoted and self-sacrificing--lacks that something of +mystical worship which a son feels for his mother. The daughter knows +she wears false hair and false teeth and pink and white powder; the son +simply takes her as she looks and thinks "what a lovely mother I have!" +The daughter has watched her mother's little schemes for happy household +management, and probably helped her in them; the son knows only their +completed comfort and their personal pleasure. He never dreams of any +policy or management in his mother's words and deeds, and hence he +believes in her just as he sees and hears her. And her wisdom and love +seem to him so great and so unusual, that an element of reverence--the +highest feeling of which man is capable--blends itself with all his +conceptions of mother. And the wonder is, that a daughter's love +exists, and persists, without it. Knowing all her mother's feminine +weaknesses, she loves her devotedly in spite of them--nay, perhaps loves +her the more profoundly because of them. And if she is not capable of +this affection she does not love her at all. + +Isabel watched her mother leave the house on the wedding cake business +and then she went to her sister's room. She found her dressing to go +out. "I have an appointment at eleven, Isabel," she said, "and I am so +glad you have come to sit beside me while I dress. The days are going so +fast, and very soon now you will come to my room, and Christina will not +be here, any more in this life." + +"You will surely come back to your own home sometimes, Christina?" + +"No. I shall never enter Traquair House again, unless you are sick and +need me--then I would come. I have just been going through my top +drawer, Isabel; it was full of old gifts and keepsakes, and I declare +they brought tears to my eyes." + +"Why? I dare say the givers have forgotten you--they were mostly school +friends, and the Campbelton crowd." + +"Do you think I had a tear for any of them? No, no! I was nearly crying +for myself, for it was really piteous to see the trash a woman of my age +thought worth preserving. I sent the whole contents of the drawer to the +kitchen--the servant lasses may quarrel about them." + +"Was there nothing worth taking to your new home? No single thing that +had a loving, or a pleasant memory?" + +"Not one. The whole mess of needlework, and painted cards, toilet toys, +and sham trinkets represented my existence until Dora came. It was just +as useless and unsatisfying as the trash flung into the kitchen. Dora +opened the gates of life for me. Poor Dora!" + +"Why do you say 'poor Dora'?" + +"She is unhappy, disappointed, I have sometimes thought almost +frightened. She is much changed. Robert is not kind to her, and he ought +to be ashamed of himself. I wonder if my intended husband will act as +Robert has done?" + +"Sir Thomas is much in love with you." + +"Robert was much in love with Dora. See how it ends. He sits reading, or +he lies asleep on the sofa the evenings he is with her--and he used to +feel as if the day was not long enough to tell her how lovely and how +dear she was. I suppose Sir Thomas will act in the same way." + +"I do not think he will." + +"He had better not." + +"Oh, Christina, do not talk--do not even think of such contingencies. +Women should never threaten." + +"Pray, why not?" + +"Because it is dangerous to themselves to show their teeth if they +cannot bite, and they cannot. Women in this country are helpless as +babies." + +"Then there are other countries." + +"_Hush!_ This is uncanny talk. What a pretty suit! Are you going to wear +it to-day?" + +"Yes, it is a spring suit, and this is a lovely spring morning. I heard +the robins singing as you came upstairs." + +"Mother has gone to order the wedding cake--you ought to be a happy +woman, Christina." + +"I am--and yet, Isabel, life will be bare without you. All my life long +you have been my comfort, and I love you, yes, I love you dearly, +Isabel." + +"And I love you, Christina. I shall miss you every hour of the day." + +Then they were both silent, they had said all they could say, and much +more than was usual. Christina finished her toilet, and Isabel sat +watching her, then they clasped hands and walked downstairs together, +and so to the front door, which Jepson opened as Christina approached +it. For a few moments Isabel stood there and watched her sister enter +the waiting carriage, and felt well repaid when Christina, as the horses +moved, fluttered her white handkerchief in a parting salute. + +Mrs. Campbell returned in time for lunch. She had quite recovered her +dignity, and was indeed more than usually vaunting and exultant. "I have +ordered a cake twice the ordinary size," she said, "and the small boxes, +and the narrow white ribbon, in which to send friends not present at the +ceremony a portion. It will be a labor to tie them up, and direct them, +but there will be a house full to help you. When will your dress be +done, Isabel?" + +"To-night, mother." + +"And Christina's comes to-morrow night. Mine is finished. I called at +Dalmeny's to examine it. The lace is particularly effective, and it +fits--which is a wonder. Will Sir Thomas be here to dinner?" + +"He has gone to Edinburgh for the Wynton diamonds. He has set his heart +on Christina wearing them at the marriage ceremony." + +"I do not approve his determination. A bride, in my opinion, ought to be +dressed with great simplicity. I was. A few orange blossoms, or the like +of them, are enough." + +"Not always. A young girl looks well enough with a few flowers, but a +woman in the prime of life, like Christina, can wear diamonds even on +her wedding-day, and look grander and lovelier for them." + +"Well, well! Your way be it. I do not expect my opinions to be regarded, +but can tell you one thing--if Sir Thomas goes on giving her gems at the +rate he has done, the Wynton baronage will be in a state of perfect +beggary, before the end of their lives. I was just telling Mrs. Malcolm +that I verily believed the sum-total o' Sir Thomas Wynton's gifts to my +daughter might reach all o' a ten thousand pounds, and she was that +astonished, she could barely keep her composure." + +"That is just like yourself, mother. I do wish you would not boast so +much about Sir Thomas. He is not any kind of a miraculous godsend, for +Christina is quite as good as he is." + +"Isabel, if my family has been honored with extraordinar' mercies, I am +not the woman to deny them, or even hide them in a napkin, as it were. I +am going to be thankful for them and speak well of them to all and +sundry. I am going to rejoice day and night over the circumstance. I +think it just and right to testify my gratitude so far; and I would +think shame o' myself if I did not do it." + +"Very well, mother. Christina had a new spring suit on to-day. She +looked exceedingly handsome in it." + +"Bailie Littlejohn remarked to me lately, that my daughter Christina was +the very picture o' myself, when I was about her age. And he remembered +me ever since we were in the dancing class together--that is forty +years--maybe forty-one, or two, or perhaps as many as forty----" + +"Never mind the years, mother. It is very nice of the Bailie to remember +so long." + +"I always made long--I may say lasting impressions, Isabel. It was my +way--or gift--a kind of power I had. People who once know me, never +forget me. It is rather a peculiar power, I think." + +"Christina seems very happy, mother." + +"Of course she is happy! It would be a black, burning shame if she were +not. Sir Thomas is all she deserves, and more too, yet I am glad he has +withdrawn himself to-night, for I am fairly fagged out with fine +dinners, and I shall tell McNab to give us some mutton broth and collops +to-night. It will be a thanksgiving to have the plainest dinner she can +cook." + +"Christina may not like it." + +"Then she can dislike it. I am not fearing Christina. I wish you would +ask Dora what she is going to wear." + +"Tell Robert to do so." + +"I have heard tell of no new dress, and it would be just like her to +wear her own wedding dress." + +"Is there anything against her doing so?" + +"Is there anything against it? Certainly there is. We do not want any +one in white satin but Christina." + +"Oh! I see. Robert must explain that to her. Tell him so to-night. You +had better take a sleep this afternoon, mother. You look tired." + +"I will rest until seven. What time will Christina be home?" + +"She did not tell me." + +"Where was she going?" + +"To Marion Brodie's. She spoke of Flora McLeod being with Marion to-day, +and of the necessity of making each of them understand their duties." + +"Duties?" + +"As chief bride-maidens." + +"Yes, yes, of course! But she will be home to dinner?" + +"Oh, certainly; and Marion may come back with her. If so, how will the +plain dinner do?" + +"Well enough! Marion's mother was brought up on mutton broth and haggis; +and the wealth o' the Brodies is o'er young to be in the fashions yet +awhile. I will be down at seven, and meanwhile you may speak to +Christina anent her duty. I do think her wedding dress ought to be home +even the now." + +"Mother, it will not come until the day before the marriage. She is +afraid of it being handled." + +"Preserve us! Why shouldn't it be handled? It is pure selfishness. She +is against sharing her pleasure with any other soul. That is the because +of her ill-natured conduct. See that dinner is ready punctual. Your +brother was in one of his north-easter tempers this morning, and the +day's work isn't likely to have sorted him any better." + +Then half-reluctantly she went upstairs. She would rather have remained +with Isabel and talked affairs over again; but Isabel was depressed and +not inclined to conversation. The old lady wondered, as she slowly +climbed the stairs, "What the young people of this generation were made +of?" She felt that she had more enthusiasm than either of her daughters, +and then sighed deeply, because it received so little sympathy. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +A RUNAWAY BRIDE + + +At seven precisely Mrs. Campbell re-entered the dining-room. Isabel was +already there, and Jepson was bringing in the broth. Neither Robert nor +Christina was present, and she wondered a little, but asked no +questions. In a few moments Theodora took her place, and without remark +permitted Jepson to serve her. But she was evidently in trouble, and she +did not touch the food before her. At length Mrs. Campbell asked: + +"Where is Robert? Is he not ready for dinner?" + +"He is asleep. I suppose he is not ready for dinner." + +"What time did he return home?" + +"Very early. He said he was sleepy. He is always sleepy. I fear he is +ill, a healthy man cannot always be needing sleep." + +"The Campbells, all of them, are famous for their ability to sleep. They +can sleep at all hours, and in any place--a four-inch-wide plank would +suffice them for a sofa. They can order a sleep whenever they desire, +and it comes. It is very remarkable." + +"Very," answered Theodora, in a tone of unavoidable contempt. + +"I have heard people say it was a great gift, and it is quite a family +gift." + +"I hope my little David will not inherit it," said Theodora. + +"There is nothing of the Campbell family about the boy," replied Mrs. +Campbell. + +Theodora did not say she was glad, but she looked the words, and her +expression of satisfaction was annoying to both Isabel and her mother. +The former said with petulant decision: + +"I can sleep at any time I wish. I think this family trait is a great +and peculiar blessing." + +"Circumstances may sometimes make it so, Isabel," answered Theodora, +"but I would rather wake and suffer, than sink into animal +unconsciousness half my life. Robert has slept, or pretended to sleep, +twelve hours out of the last twenty-four, and he does not even dream." + +"Dream!" cried Mrs. Campbell in disgust, "dream, I hope not! Only fools +dream. My children go to bed for the purpose of sleeping. Dream indeed! +The Campbells have good sense, and they don't lose it when they sleep." + +"Oh, but I think dreaming is one of the most sensible things we do. The +soul is comforted by dreaming, instructed and warned by dreaming. I +should feel spiritually dead, if the blessed, prophesying dreams failed +to visit me." + +"I wonder where Christina is taking dinner," said Mrs. Campbell. She +refused to continue a conversation so senseless and disagreeable, and +her way of doing so, was not only to ignore Theodora's topic, but also +to introduce a subject which she considered important and interesting. +And of course Christina's dinner was a matter that put dreaming out of +court and question. + +Isabel thought she was dining with the Brodies, and Mrs. Campbell said, +"In that case she ought to have sent a message to her family." + +"She is so occupied, mother, she forgets. We must make some allowances +at this time." + +"Of course, Isabel. I expect to do so." + +Then the door was suddenly thrown open and Robert entered. His face was +dark, he was biting his thumbnail, and his eyes were full of a dull +fire. He had not a word for any one but Jepson, whom he ordered to +remove the broth. "The house smells of it," he said with an air of +disgust. He ate what dinner he took without speaking, an act Gothic, +almost brutal, when it can be avoided, but none of the three women cared +to break the silence, lest they might turn silence into visible, audible +anger. + +Theodora made a pretence of eating, but it was only a pretence and she +left the room as soon as the cloth was drawn. Robert did not in any way +notice her departure, but he began a grumbling kind of conversation with +his mother, as soon as the three Campbells were alone. He said he was +worn out with the expense and rioting anent Christina's marriage. It had +been fine dinners, and suppers, and fooleries of all kinds for weeks, +and more weeks, and money wasting away like water running into sand. He +saw no good coming of it. He was glad the end was in sight, etc., +etc.--grumble, grumble, grumble, his voice never lifted above a deep, +sulky monotone, his face dark with frowns and discontent. + +He was so ill-tempered Mrs. Campbell thought it best to leave him alone +with his cigar. It seemed better to worry out her anxieties with Isabel, +who, however, was not in a mood to talk them away. "I am so depressed, +mother," she complained. "I hardly know what I am saying. I feel as if I +had a great sorrow. The room is dark, the air heavy, the whole house +feels full of trouble. It is crowded, too. With a little effort I feel +that I could see the crowd. Do you understand?" + +"My God! Isabel, control yourself. We want no Second Sight here. The +Argyle Campbells are great seers, and you must close your ears to their +whisperings, and whatever sights are under your eye-balls, deny them +vision. You must, you must! For, as your grandfather, Ivan Campbell, +used to say, 'the Second Sight, children, isna a blessing, it is aye +dool and sorrow, or ill chance it shows you.'" + +"Mother, I must tell you the truth. I am unhappy about Christina." + +"So am I." + +"She ought to have sent us a message. She would, had it been possible. +Oh, mother, what or who prevented her?" + +"Perhaps she did. Have you asked Scot?" + +"No, but if any message had been sent by him he would have told Jepson +at once, and Jepson heard our conversation about her absence at the +dinner table, yet he made no remark." + +"What do you fear?" + +"My fear has no form. That is what frightens me. If I knew----" + +"You are nervous, Isabel, very nervous. She left home well, and in good +spirits." + +"I never saw her in better health, or finer spirits." + +"Do you not remember, that she once stayed at Colonel Allison's till +near midnight, without sending us any message? We were in a fright about +her at that time." + +"But you commanded her never to do the like again." + +"Christina has not obeyed my commands very particularly of late. They do +not seem important to her." + +"She has had so much to do, and she knew Sir Thomas would not be in +Glasgow to-night. If I knew she was well and safe, I should be glad she +was not here, for this is an unhappy house with Robert in the devil's +own temper, and Dora looking like the grave." + +"Dora makes Robert ill-tempered. It is all her fault, and we have to +suffer for it." + +"She evidently suffers also." + +"She deserves to suffer." + +"Suppose we send for Scot. He must be in the stable yet." + +"As you like." + +In a quarter of an hour Scot stood within the dining-room door +respectfully indignant at the summons and the delay it would cause him. +He was rather glad the ladies were anxious and quite in the mood to tell +anything he thought might be disagreeable. + +"Where did you take Miss Christina first of all this morning, Scot?" +asked Mrs. Campbell. + +"To the florist's shop on Buchanan Street. She bought a posy of +daffy-down-dillys and came out with them in her hand." + +"Where next?" + +"To Madame Barnard's. She didna stop five minutes there, but Madame cam' +to the doorstep wi' her, and bid Miss Christina good-bye and wished her +a' the good luck in the round world itsel'." + +"Then?" + +"She told me then to go back to the stable, but to be sure and come for +her at four o'clock. I asked where I was to come, and she laughed +pleasantly and said, 'Come to Bailie Brodie's,' and gave me the +Crescent, and the number o' the house forbye." + +"Did you go to Bailie Brodie's at four o'clock?" + +"I did that same thing, ma'am." + +"Well?" + +"A servant lass told me Miss Campbell hadna been there that day, nor +that week. So I drove home again, and at half after five I went to the +train for Mr. Campbell, but I missed him. He had come by an early +train, while I was at Brodies'." + +"Did you notice any one speak to Miss Campbell?" + +"No one." + +"Did she take the right way to Brodies'?" + +"She took the best way--up Sauchiehall Street." + +"That will do, Scot." + +Scot shut the door, and the two women looked with troubled eyes into +each other's faces. Mrs. Campbell then turned to the clock and said, "It +is on the stroke of nine, Isabel. We will wait until ten; then I shall +speak to your brother." + +The hour went miserably, almost silently away, and then Mrs. Campbell +went to her son. He treated her fears with contemptuous indifference. +"It is like you women," he said, "you always make a mountain out of a +molehill. If any one of the women in this house knows how to take care +of herself, it is Christina Campbell! Go to your beds, and tell Jepson +to sit up for her." + +"Robert, do you understand that she said she was going to the Brodies', +and then did not go?" + +"Who said she was not there?" + +"One of the Brodie servant lasses." + +"_Tush!_ She went there, no doubt, but did not stay long enough to +acquaint that particular servant with her visit. I have no doubt Marion +Brodie and Christina went off somewhere together, and they are likely +together at this hour." + +"I never thought of that, Robert. Indeed it is very likely they went to +Netta Galbraith, who is to be second bridesmaid." + +"Of course, and they are having a mock marriage in order to practise +their parts. I hope we shall have no more marriages in the family, they +are ruinously expensive, and make nothing but misery and anxiety." + +Mrs. Campbell sighed, and lifted her eyes heaven-ward, but she did not +remain with her son. She was really afraid to leave Isabel, for she +looked almost distracted, and on the point of vision. "And I will not +have it," she whispered to herself, "no, I will not. There shall be no +prophecy of calamity in this house, whether from the dead or the +living--not if mortal woman can help it." + +She opened the dining-room door to this thought, and Isabel stayed her +rapid walk and asked anxiously, "Well, mother?" + +"Your brother says there is no occasion to worry. He made out a very +clear case of the circumstance," and she explained his supposition +concerning Christina's and Marion Brodie's visit together to Netta +Galbraith. + +Isabel shook her head. "That is not it," she answered positively. + +"He advised us to go to bed." + +"I will not until Christina returns, or Robert does something to clear +up her failure to come." + +"How do you feel?" + +"Unquiet and unhappy. Mother, something extraordinary has happened." + +"I hope you are not seeing things." + +"No. The 'visiting' is past--but it will come again." + +"It must not! It must not! Deny it every time! Oh, Isabel--if anything +should happen to put off the marriage, whatever should we do?" + +"Bear it." + +"The talk of it! The wonder of it! The mortification of it!" + +"Mother, why are you fearing such a misfortune? Robert says all is +right. You have always believed Robert's word." + +"Yes, yes! Robert knows, Robert feels, when he is in the right mood, but +to-night he is in a bad mood--cross and evil as Satan." + +Dismally they talked together for another hour, and then Robert joined +them. He had caught fear from some source, and he asked for a list of +such places as Christina was likely to visit. Then he called a cab and +went first to Glover's Theatre. He was just in time to see the exit of +the Box crowd, but Christina was not among them. Suddenly the +consequences of a delayed marriage struck him like a buffet in his face. +The loss of money--the loss of prestige--the talk--the newspapers! Oh, +the thing was impossible, and he tried to put the apprehension of it +away with a stamp of his foot. He was equally unsuccessful wherever he +called. No one had seen Christina that day, and he finally went home +puzzled, and even anxious, but sure that her unaccountable absence was +the result of some misunderstanding that would be cleared up when +morning came. He insisted on the family retiring, but told Jepson to +leave the gas burning, and be ready to open the door if called upon to +do so. Then he also went upstairs, but sleep was far from him. Theodora +appeared to be asleep, but though her eyes were closed, her heart was +waking. One kind word would have brought him all the comfort love could +give. He was touched, however, by the sweetness and peace that brooded +over her, and by the calm and restful atmosphere pervading her room. He +stood a moment at the side of the apparently sleeping woman, but was +reluctant--perhaps ashamed--to awaken her. David slept in her +dressing-room and he went to the child's cot and looked at the beautiful +boy. When he was asleep, the likeness to his father was very evident, +and Robert noticed it. + +"I was once as innocent and as fair as he is. I must have looked just +like him," and sitting down by a table he held his head in his hands, +and thought of them, and of Christina's delay, listening always for the +carriage, the step, the ring at the door, that never came. + +The next morning the whole family were late and unrested. Jepson was +sorting the mail as Isabel came downstairs, and she asked anxiously, +"What time is it, Jepson?" + +"Nine o'clock, miss. Here is a letter for you, miss." + +She saw at once it was from Christina, and she took it eagerly, and ran +back to her own room with it. Trembling from head to feet, she broke the +seal and read: + + MY DEAR SISTER: + + I was married to-day at half-past eleven to Jamie Rathey. I met + him twelve days ago, and we went into the picture gallery, and + sat there all day talking, and I found out that I loved Jamie, + and did not love Sir Thomas. I promised to marry him, and we + rented a nice floor and furnished it very prettily, and hired + two servants, and so after the marriage ceremony, went to our + own home for lunch. Do not blame me, Isabel. I have never been + happy in all my life, and I want to be happy, and I shall be + happy with Jamie. I have sent all the gifts Sir Thomas gave me + back, and written him a letter. He will forgive me, and I know + you will. Mother will forbid you to mention me, and she will + never forgive. I know Robert will feel hurt, but he has no + cause. I begged him to secure the fish that was on the hook for + him, and he would not. I thought all well over, and I did not + see why I should any longer sacrifice myself for the Campbells. + For twenty-eight years I was miserable--child and woman. Nobody + loved me but Jamie. I had nothing other girls and women had. + But I am happy at last! Happy at last! Oh, Isabel, be glad for + me. I will write to you every month, but you need not try to + find me out. You could not. You might as well look for a + needle in a hay-stack. Dear Isabel, do not forget me. Your + loving sister, + + CHRISTINA RATHEY. + +And Isabel cried and wrung her hands and said softly, but from her very +heart, "I am glad, I am glad! You did right, Christina! Yes, you did! +You did! And Isabel will stand by you till the last. She will! She +will!" + +With tears still on her white cheeks, she went down to the dining-room. +Robert and his mother were at the table, and evidently not on agreeable +terms. "Jepson thought you had a letter from Christina," said Mrs. +Campbell, "and I am astonished you did not bring it to us, at once." + +"I thought it would be better, to see first what news it contained." + +"Well? Can you not speak?" + +Then Isabel put the letter into her mother's hand. + +And in a few minutes there was a cry like that of a woman wounded and +crushed to death. With frantic passion Mrs. Campbell threw the letter at +her son, and then with bitter execrations assailed the child she accused +of killing her. + +"Mother, mother! Do be quiet!" pleaded Isabel. + +"She has killed me! I shall die of shame! I shall die! She has broken my +heart!" + +Robert read the letter through, his face growing darker and darker as he +read. When he had finished, he threw it on the fire, and Isabel rushed +to the grate and rescued it, though it was smoked, and browned, and +mostly illegible. But she clasped its tinder and ashes in her hands, +cried over them, and finally left the room with the precious relics +clasped to her heart. + +"Have you gone crazy too?" called her mother. + +"Let her alone!" said Robert. + +"And pray what is the matter with you?" + +"I am ashamed of the way you are behaving." + +"It is your sister of whom you must be ashamed. Her disgraceful marriage +will kill me." + +"It is the result of your own doing, and withholding." + +"I am to bear the blame, of course. Poor mother!" + +"You never gave her any happiness, and when she got the opportunity she +gave it to herself. That was natural." + +"She had all the happiness I had." + +"You had your husband, your family, your house, your servants, and your +social duties. You were quite happy, but none of these things made +happiness for your daughters. They wanted the pleasures of youth--gay +company, gay clothing, travel and lovers, and none of these things you +gave them. I was often very sorry for them." + +"Then why did you not help them yourself?" + +"Do you remember the year I begged you to take your daughters to +Edinburgh and London, and offered to pay all expenses, and you would not +do it?" + +"I did not wish to go to Edinburgh and London." + +"No, you wanted to go to Campbelton, and so you made your daughters go +with you, though they hated the place. There Christina met this low +fellow whom she married. She had no other lover. To the Campbelton +rabble you sacrificed my sisters from their babyhood." + +"Robert Campbell! How dare you call my kindred 'rabble'?" + +"The name is good enough. Do you think I have forgotten how they treated +my wife's clothing, and our rooms?" + +"What are you bringing up that old story for?" + +"It comes in naturally to-day, and I have not forgotten it. For your +cruelty at that time, you are rightly served. Christina has avenged +Theodora." + +He flung the last words at her over his shoulder as he left the room. +She had no opportunity to answer them, indeed she was not able to do so. +It seemed to her as if she had been stricken dumb from head to feet; as +if her world was being swept away from her, and she could not protest +against it. Isabel had left her in anger and opposition. Robert in +reproach. As for Christina, she had smitten her on every side, and gone +away without contrition and without reproof. And Robert's few words had +been keener than a sword, for they were edged with Truth, and Truth +drove them to her very soul. + +But she had no thought of surrendering any foothold of her position. She +only wanted time to consider herself, for this solid defection of son +and daughters had come like a cataclysm out of a clear sky, unforeseen, +entire, and apparently complete in its misery. Her first resolve was to +go to Theodora, and have the circumstance "out" with her. But her limbs +were as heavy as her heart, and when with difficulty she reached the +door of the room, she heard her son talking to his wife. And it had been +brought home to her that morning that Robert could not be depended on, +therefore she must risk no more uncertain encounters. Theodora alone, +she did not fear; but Theodora and Robert in alliance meant certain +defeat. + +So she stumbled back to the sofa and sat down. Nature ordered her to lie +down, but she flatly refused. "This is a critical time," she said to +herself, "and Margaret Campbell, there is to be no lying down. You be to +keep on the defensive." But she rang for Jepson, and told him to tell +Miss Campbell her mother wanted her. In a few minutes Isabel answered +the summons, and as soon as she entered the room she cried out, "Oh, +mother, mother, mother! what is the matter? You are ill." + +"Ay, Isabel, I am ill, and it would be a miracle if I were not ill." The +words came slowly and with effort, and Isabel was terrified by her +mother's face, for it was gray as ashes, and had on it an expression of +terror, as if she had looked on Death as he passed her by. + +"Lie down, mother. You ought to lie down." + +"Get me a glass--a big glass--of red Burgundy." + +Isabel obeyed, and when she had drunk it, she said in something of her +natural voice and manner, "Burgundy is the strong wine. It is full of +iron, and we require plenty of iron in our blood. In the common crowd, +it goes to their hands, and helps them to work hard, but in the Campbell +clans, it goes to the hearts of both men and women." + +"And makes them hard-hearted." + +"Hard to their own, and worse to their foes--and to strangers. Oh, +Isabel, Isabel, this is the blackest day I have ever seen! What shall we +do?" + +"Bear it. Others have borne the like. We can." + +"I can never look my friends in the face again." + +"Never mind either friends or foes. In nine days they will have said +their say. Let them." + +"Yesterday at this hour, I was the proudest and happiest woman in +Glasgow. To-day I am----" + +"The bravest woman in Glasgow. Defy your trouble, as you always do. +Christina's conduct is most unusual, and few will understand it--they +can't. But, oh mother, stand by your daughter! Tell every one, that when +she found out she loved Mr. Rathey better than Sir Thomas Wynton, she +did what was honorable and womanly, and that you admire her truth and +sincerity, though of course, somewhat disappointed. Such words as these +will silence the ill-natured, and satisfy the friendly. You will say +them, mother?" + +"Something like them, no doubt." + +"And we must find Christina, and you will forgive her, and protect her?" + +"I will do no such things." + +"It would stop people's tongues." + +"Their tongues may clash till doomsday, ere I will stop them that gate. +Never name the wicked woman to me again. I do not know her any more, and +I do not want to know, whether she is living or dead, in plenty or +poverty, sick or well, happy or miserable. She is out o' this world, as +far as I am concerned. _Sure!_" + +"What did Robert say?" + +"Threw the whole blame on mysel'--evil be to him!" + +"Mother!" + +"Yes, evil be to the son who condemns his mother, whether she be right +or wrong." + +"He will not get Sir Thomas to invest money in the works now, I fear. +That will trouble him." + +"Weel! The Campbell furnaces have kept blazing so far, without Wynton +siller to help them, and their fires willna go out for the want o' it." + +"I wonder how Sir Thomas will take his disappointment." + +"It is untelling how any man will take anything. You couldna speculate +as to how Robert Campbell would take a plate o' parritch; he might like +them, and he might send them to the Back o' Beyond. All men are made +that way, and we poor women can only put up wi' their tempers and +tantrums. God help us!" + +At this moment Jepson entered with a basket filled with moss and purple +pansies. A card was attached bearing the following message: + + "_Sir Thomas Wynton sends sincere sympathy, and kind regards to + Mrs. and Miss Campbell. He will not intrude on their grief at + present, but will call in a few days._" + +Isabel laid her face against the flowers, Mrs. Campbell read the card +with pleasure, and a slight flush of color came back to her cheeks. + +"This bit of card will give me the upper hand of a' the clashing jades, +who come here wondering and sighing, and doubting and fearing. I shall +shake it in their faces, and bid them tak' notice that Sir Thomas Wynton +is still in the family as it were. And I shall make one other observe +anent the marriage failure, that Sir Thomas will take as personal, any +and all unpleasant remarks concerning the Campbells." + +"When Sir Thomas pays his visit----" + +"You be to see that Dora is present. The creature has a wonderful way o' +saying consoling words. I hae noticed that all men find her pleasant and +satisfactory. She has the trick o' speaking just what they want to +hear--the jade!" + +"Do speak decently of Dora, mother. She is Robert's wife." + +"More's the pity. God help the poor man! Little pleasure he has wi' +her." + +"It is not her fault." + +"I see how it is--she will lead you wrong next." + +"No one can lead me wrong. I wonder if Sir Thomas went to see Robert +to-day." + +"I think Robert would go and see him. We may wonder all day, but we will +know, when Robert comes home; that is, if his temper will let him talk. +_Dod!_ but he is a true Campbell--flesh, blood, and bone." + +"When Robert was in love with Dora, love made him a kind, good-tempered +man." + +"Kind men are not profitable in a house; they give where they ought to +grip; and it is a sma' share o' this world you will get wi' good temper. +You be to threep, and threaten for what you want, and the fires in the +furnaces would soon burn low, if there was a kind, good-tempered man +watching o'er them." + +"Now you are talking like yourself, mother. You will soon put your +trouble under your feet." + +"Weel, I am not going to sit down on the ash-heap wi' it, as the parfect +man o' Uz did--if there ever was such a man--which I am doubting; all +the mair, because nobody I ever heard of could tell me in what country +on the face o' the globe a place called Uz might be found. If there isna +a place called Uz, it is mair than likely there never was a man called +Job." + +"The Bible says there was." + +"Ay, in a parable. The Bible is aye ready to drop into a parable." + +"Mother, if you would try and sleep now." + +"I will not. I would get sick if I did. I am on watch at present, for I +am not up to mark, and I will not gie sickness the fine opportunity o' +sleep. If Robert comes hame reasonable, I'll have my talk out wi' him. +I am not going to suffer his contradictions, not if I know it." + +Fortunately Robert came home early, and was in a civil and communicative +mood. He said "he had been to see Sir Thomas, and had been treated in +the most considerate manner." + +"What did he say about Christina?" asked Isabel timidly. + +"He would hear no wrong of her. He said she had written him a beautiful +letter, a most honorable letter, a letter he would prize to his dying +hour. He thought she had done right, both for herself and him. He told +me she had returned all his gifts, and he had directed the jeweler to +hold them for her further orders. He thinks she will be sure to call +there, in order to find out if they have been given to him, and he has +left a note with the jewels, begging her to keep them as a sign of their +friendship, and a reminder of the pleasant hours they have spent +together. A most unusual and gentlemanly way of looking at things, I +must say." + +"Will he take a share in the works now?" asked Mrs. Campbell. + +"I do not know. He is going abroad as soon as he has rearranged his +affairs. He said he would call on you in a few days." + +"He sent us some lovely flowers," said Isabel. + +"He is a most wasteful man." + +"He sent mother and me pansies in a lovely basket lined with moss; they +were to say for him he would 'remember' us. And he sent Dora the same +basket, filled with white hyacinths. Oh, how sweet they were!" + +"And what did they say?" + +"I looked for their meaning, and found it was 'unobtrusive loveliness.' +You see Dora rarely came into the parlor, when he called." + +"That may be so, but he had no business to notice her absence. +'Unobtrusive' indeed, and 'loveliness.' Some men don't know when they go +too far." + +"He meant all in kindness," said Mrs. Campbell, "and I hope he will +call." + +Sir Thomas kept his promise. Three days after Christina had so +mercilessly jilted him, he called on her mother and sister. But by this +time he had taken a still more exalted view of his false love's conduct. +He told Mrs. Campbell, that it was not sympathy, but congratulations, +that were due her. Was she not the proud mother of a noble daughter, +whom neither rank nor wealth could lure from the paths of truth and +honor? Of a daughter who held love as beyond price, and who would not +wrong either his or her own heart. He waxed eloquent on this subject, +and was tearful over the lost treasure of her noble daughter's +affection. And Mrs. Campbell smiled grimly, and wondered "if he really +thought she was silly enough to believe he believed in any such +balderdash." + +Isabel certainly believed in him with all her heart, and was never weary +of his chivalrous, exalted platitudes; and like all men in love +trouble, Sir Thomas was never weary of talking of his wounded heart, and +lost bride. So Isabel quickly became his favorite confidant. She +listened patiently and with evident interest; she helped him to praise +Christina, and when he got to wiping his eyes, Isabel was ready to weep +with him. + +In a couple of weeks he began to talk of his intended travel, and on +this subject Isabel was sincerely inquisitive and enthusiastic. The +strongest desire of her heart was to travel in strange countries, and +she asked so many questions about the trip Sir Thomas proposed taking, +that he brought his maps and guidebooks, and showed her his route down +the Mediterranean to Greece, up the Adriatic to Montenegro and +Herzegovina, over the Dalmatian mountains, through Austria and Hungary +to Buda-Pesth, northward to Prague, Berlin, and Hamburg, into the +Baltic, and so by Zealand and the Skager Rack across the North Sea to +England again. Oh, what a heaven it opened up to the reserved, solitary +woman! + +It was impossible for Isabel to hide her delight, and so when this trip +had been thoroughly talked over, he came one wet afternoon with the +books and maps explanatory of his last journey, which had been +altogether on the American continent. He showed her where he had hunted +big game in the forests of the Hudson Bay Company, and he described to +her the old cities of French Canada. Many afternoons were spent in +talking about New York, Chicago, St. Louis, San Francisco, and the +wonders of California, Alaska, and Texas. Finally, he carried her to +Brazil and Cuba, to the West Indies and to the beautiful Bermudas. + +In these parlor wanderings, she lived a life far, far apart from the +wet, dull streets of Glasgow, and the monotonous ennui and strife of +Traquair House; besides which advantage, both Sir Thomas and herself +lost in such pleasant loiterings the first sore pangs of their bereaved +hearts. For obvious reasons, both Robert and Mrs. Campbell tolerated +these--to them--tiresome recollections. Robert considered the baronet +yet as a possible business contingent; and Mrs. Campbell silenced all +doubtful sympathizers with remarks about his friendship, and his +constant visits. One Sabbath she managed affairs so cleverly, that he +even went to Dr. Robertson's church, sat in their pew, and returned home +to dine with them. The next day he started on his two years' travel, +promising to write Isabel descriptions of all the wonderfuls he saw. + +On the night of the same day, Robert called together the women of his +household and in the bluntest words told them the strictest economy was +hence-forward to be observed. He said the wastrie of the past three or +four months was unbelievable, and it had to be made up by a steady +curtailment of all household expenses. Then turning to his mother he +asked, "in what direction she thought it best to begin?" + +She answered promptly: "You are right, Robert. The expenses of the +house have been very extravagant, and retrenchment is both wise and +necessary. I think in the first place we ought to reduce the number of +servants. One man can be spared from the stable, and the second man in +the house is not a necessity. McNab must do with one kitchen girl, +instead of two; and your son no longer needs a nurse. A boy of his age +ought to wait on himself." + +"David has not needed a nurse for a long time." + +"_Who_ did you say?" + +"David." + +"I ordered you not to call the boy by that name, in my presence." + +"It is his baptismal name. He has no other name." + +"Call him Nebuchadnezzar, or Satan, or any name you like in your own +room, but in my presence----" + +"His name is always David. I was going to remind you that Ducie has been +a general servant in the house for many months. She has assisted your +chambermaid, helped McNab in the kitchen, and Jepson about the table. I +think she has been the most effective maid in the house." + +"She may have been chambermaid, cook, and butler rolled into one, but +she is not wanted here, and the sooner she finds her way back to Kendal +the better every one will like it." + +Then Theodora quietly gathered the silks with which she was working, and +without noise or hurry left the room. She heard her mother-in-law's +scornful laugh, and her husband's angry voice as she closed the door, +but she allowed neither to detain her in an atmosphere so highly charged +with hatred and opposition. + +In about an hour Robert strode into her parlor, and with a lowering face +and peevish voice asked: "Why did you go away?" + +"There was no further reason for my presence, and more than one reason +why it was better for me to go away." + +"It is evident you feel no interest in the curtailment of my expenses." + +"I am sure that curtailment is not necessary. You gave your shareholders +a dividend of ten-per-cent a short time ago, and you are always +complaining that the business is too large for you to carry alone. And I +do not see that there is the smallest curtailment in your personal +expenses." + +"Pray what have you to do with my personal expenses?" + +"I speak of them because I personally have no expenses from which to +draw conclusions." + +"I suppose you have as many personal expenses as any other woman. My +mother thinks you have more." + +"Your mother grudges me the little food I eat. How much money have you +given me during the six years I have been your wife?" + +"I have paid all your bills." + +"What kind of bills?" + +"All kinds." + +"No. You have paid for a physician when I was sick--nothing else. I have +bought little new clothing, and what I have bought I paid for." + +"You did not require new clothing." + +"When it was to renew and alter, I paid all expenses with my own money." + +"_You! You have no money!_ All the money you have is mine. I have +allowed you to use it for your personal expenses. Many husbands would +not have done so." + +"It was my money, Robert. I made it before I even knew your name." + +"It was all my money the moment you were my wife." + +"It is all gone now. I had to borrow a sovereign from Ducie." + +"Good gracious! What an absurdity! What did you want with a sovereign? +You have credit in half-a-dozen shops." + +"I wanted money, not credit. I cannot buy stamps, stationery, music, +medicine, and many other things with credit. And the church wants cash +always. I cannot pay church dues with credit. When I borrowed a +sovereign from Ducie I wanted a prescription of Dr. Fleming's made up." + +"You have credit at Starkie's." + +"Starkie does not make up prescriptions. I had to send to Fraser's and I +have no credit at Fraser's." + +Then he threw a sovereign on the table and said: "Pay Ducie at once. I +do not want her chattering all over Glasgow and Kendal." + +"So you have decided to send Ducie away?" + +"Yes." + +"She is all that is left me of my old happy life. Oh, Robert, Robert! +have some pity on me." + +"My mother and sister are giving up three servants. Surely you can +relinquish one." + +"It is Scot in the stable, who gives up his helper. It is Jepson in the +house, it is McNab in the kitchen. None of these three servants affect +your mother's and sister's comfort in the least. Ducie is everything to +David and myself. She keeps our rooms clean and comfortable, brings my +breakfast, waits on me when I am sick, walks out with David when I am +not able to do so, and in many other ways makes things more bearable. I +beg you, Robert, not to send her away." + +"Then the other three servants must also remain." + +"You are not poor, you only feel poor because you spent so much on +Christina." + +"Who was a wicked failure, and mother says you were the prompter of her +sinful conduct." + +"Me! I had no more to do with her final choice than your mother had. I +did not even know the name of the man she married." + +"But you talked sentiment, poetry, honor, and such stuff to her." + +"Never. She would not have understood me if I had." + +"What do you mean?" + +"What I say, Christina turned sentiment, poetry, honor, and such stuff, +into laughter. She saw only one side of any person or thing--the comic +side. If she could mimic you, she partly understood you; if she could +not mimic you, then you were uninteresting and unknowable. But Christina +was as kind to me as she could be to any one. She is gone, and I have no +friend left here." + +"Am I not your friend?" + +"You are my husband. I have had many friends, none of them were the +least like you." + +"A poor man between his mother and his wife is in a desperate fix." + +"He is, because he has no business to be in such a position. It is an +unnatural one--a forbidden one. Until a man is willing to give up his +mother, he has no right to take a wife. Under all conditions it must be +one or the other; the two existing happily together are so rare, that +they are merely exceptions that prove the rule." + +"It would have been very hard on my mother, had I given her up for a +wife." + +"Yet your mother took her husband away from his mother, and so backward +goes it, to the Eden days of every race. And you also made the same +mistake that Rebekah told Isaac she was weary of her life for--you +married a stranger, and because of this, she is continually asking, as +Rebekah did, What good is my life to me with this daughter of Heth under +my roof? And also she has made our lives of no good to us!" + +"Is it not my duty to love and honor my mother? Is it not right?" + +"It is your duty, and your right also, to love and honor the wife whom +you have persuaded to leave her father and mother, her home and +friends." + +"Then the right of the mother, and the right of the wife, are both +positive?" + +"So positive that both cannot be served in the same place, and at the +same time; for the one right will be broken to pieces against the other +right, since there is no community of feeling between the family claim +of the mother and the moral and natural claim of the wife." + +"Then what is a man to do?" + +"'A man shall leave father and mother, and cleave unto his wife.' That +is the imperative, and ultimate decision of the God and Father of us +all. And if it were not the nearly universal rule, what miserable, +loveless children would be born, and how the jealous, quarrelling +families of the earth would have become hateful in God's sight. We have +only to consider our own case. Until your mother came between us, we +loved each other truly, and were very happy." + +"A man with a big business, Dora, has something else to think of than +love." + +"In his hours of business, yes; but in his hours of relaxation, his love +ought to rest and refresh him." There was a movement in the next room, +and Theodora went there with light, swift steps. Robert was walking +moodily up and down, and through the open door he saw her kneeling by a +large chair, and David's arms were round her neck, and she was telling +him he must now go to bed. "Were you tired, that you fell asleep here?" +she asked, and he answered: "I was waiting for you, mother, to hear my +prayer, and kiss me good-night; and the sleep came to me." + +Then she sat down, and David knelt at her knees, and said the Lord's +prayer, adding to it a petition for blessing on his father, his +grandmother Campbell, his aunts Isabel and Christina, his grandfather +and grandmother Newton, and his dear mother, with a final petition that +God would love David and make him a good boy. It was a scene so sweet +and natural that Robert stood still in respect to the simple rite, +vaguely wondering in what forgotten life he had spoken words like them. + +Then Theodora called Ducie, and gave the child into her care, but as he +was leaving the room he saw his father, and running to him, he said: +"Father, kiss David too." Robert's heart stirred to the eager request, +and he lifted the little lad in his arms, and actually did kiss him. In +that moment the pretty face with its glances so free, so bright, so +seeking, without guile or misgiving, impressed itself on Robert's memory +forever. Even after the child had gone away, he felt as if he still held +him, and the consciousness of the soft, rosy cheek against his own was +so vivid that he put his hand up and stroked his cheek until the +sensation left him. + +He was really in a great strait of feeling, and, if he could not do +right of himself, was in a strait, out of which there was no other +decent way. He looked longingly at Theodora, who had resumed her work, +and her pale, passionless face touched him by its complete contrast to +the face he had just left--the hard, gossipy, pitiless, scornful face of +his mother. He could not forget his son's prayer. He knew it well, he +himself was never one to prompt, nor to correct, so it was certain that +Theodora had taught the boy to pray for those who constantly spoke evil +of her. He resolved to tell his mother of this incident, and again he +tried to read the feeling on his wife's face. It was not depression, it +was not sorrow, it was far from anger, there was nothing of indifference +in it, and nothing restless or uncertain. He did not understand it. How +could such a man as Robert understand a life of pure piety and +intelligence, working its way upward through love and pain. + +He sat down by her and touched her hand, but said only one word: +"Theodora!" She lifted her sad, lovely eyes to his. "Theodora!" he said +again, and she laid her hand in his, and whispered "Robert!" Then his +kiss brought back the color to her cheeks and the light to her eyes, and +when he vowed that he loved her and David more dearly than any other +mortals, she believed him; and found sweet words to excuse all his +faults, and to tell him he was "loved with all her heart." + +Was she a foolish woman to forgive so easily, and so much? It was +because she loved so much that she could forgive so much, and of such +loving, foolish hearts is the Kingdom of Heaven. For no love is so swift +and welcome as returning love. Even the angels desire to witness the +reunion of hearts that have been kept apart by fault, or fate, and as +for Theodora, she had the courage to be happy in this promise of better +days, knowing that she came not to this house by accident, but that it +was the very place God had chosen for her. Besides which, the heart has +its arguments as well as the head, and at this hour she was judging +Robert by her love, and not by her understanding. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE LAST STRAW + + +For a few days Theodora clung tenaciously to her hope, but it had only +told her a flattering tale. Robert had gradually fallen below the +plane--moral and intellectual--on which his wife lived; and it was only +by a painful endeavor, that he returned to the Robert of six years +previously. His wife's conversation, though bright and clever, was not +as pleasant to him as his mother's biting gossip about the house and the +callers; and he could assume a slippered, careless toilet in her +presence, that made him uncomfortable when at the side of the always +prettily gowned Theodora. For when such a circumstance happened, he +involuntarily felt compelled to apologize, and he did not think +apologies belonged to his position as master of the house. He had lost +his taste for music, unless there was some stranger present whom he +desired to make envious or astonished; in fact he had descended to that +commonplace stage of love, which values a wife or a mistress only +according to the value set upon her by outsiders--by their envy and +jealousy of himself, as the clever winner of such an extraordinary +artist, or beauty. Consequently, in a time of economy, forbidding the +entertainment of strangers, Theodora's hours of supremacy were likely +to be few and far between. + +But this fact did not trouble Robert. He came home from the works tired +of the business world, and the household chatter of his mother was a +relief that cost him no surrender of any kind. Yet had Theodora +attempted the same role, he would have seen and felt at once its malice +and injustice, and despised her for destroying his ideals and illusions. +Thus, even her excellencies were against her. Again, Mrs. Campbell +disguised much of the real character of her abuse, in the +picturesqueness of the Scotch patois; nothing she said in this form +sounded as wicked and cruel as it would have done in plain English. But +this disguise would have been a ridiculous effort in Theodora, and could +only have subjected her to scorn and laughter; while it was native to +her enemy, and a vivid and graphic vehicle both for her malice and her +mockery. + +Thus, when Robert was rising to go to his own parlor, she would say: +"Smoke another cigar, Robert, or light your pipe, boy. I dinna dislike a +pipe, I may say freely, I rather fancy it. It doesna remind me o' the +stable, and I have no nerves to be shocked by its vulgarity. God be +thankit, I was born before nerves were in fashion! And He knows that one +nervous woman in a house is mair than enou'. I am sorry for ye, my lad!" + +"It is not Dora's nerves, mother; it is her refined taste. She thinks a +pipe low, common, plebeian, you know, and for the same reason she hates +me to wear a cap--she thinks it makes me look like a workingman. Dora is +quite aristocratic, you know," and he mimicked the English accent and +idioms, and saw nothing repellent in an old woman giggling at him. + +"It is nerves, my lad," she answered, "pure nerves, and nerves are a' +imagination. Whenever did I, or your sisters, or any o' our flesh and +blood have an attack o' the nerves? Whenever did a decent pipe o' +tobacco, or the smell o' a good salt herring mak' any o' us sick at the +stomach? Was there ever a Campbell made vulgar, or low, by a cap on his +head? 'Deed they are pretty men always, but prettiest of a' when they +are wearing the Glengary wi' a sprig o' myrtle in the front o' it. +_Dod!_ it makes me scunner at some folks' aristocracy. I trow, I am as +weel born as any Methodist preacher's daughter, and I have kin behind me +and around me to show it; but you can smoke a pipe, or cap your head, or +slipper your feet, and my fine feelings willna suffer for a moment." + +"You are mother--you understand." + +"To be sure I do. Poor lad, ye hae lots to fret ye, and nane need a pipe +o' tobacco, or an easy _deshabille_ mair than you do; if you are +understanding what I mean by _deshabille_--I'm not vera sure mysel', but +I'm thinking it means easy fitting clothes on ye; that is my meaning o' +the word anyhow, and I don't care a bawbee, whether it is the French +meaning or not." + +"You are all right, mother. You generally are all right." + +"I am always all right, Robert; and that you find out in the long run, +don't ye, my lad?" + +Her conversation was constantly of this vulgar, commonplace type, but it +carried home veiled doubts and innuendos, as no other form could have +done; and it was homelike and familiar to Robert. With it as the vehicle +for her flattery and her iron will, she managed her son as no sensitive, +truthful, honorable woman could have done, unless she flung delicacy, +truth, and honor aside, and went down into moral slums to find her ways +and weapons. + +On the fourth evening after the promising reconciliation, Robert said: +"I want a whiff of strong tobacco, Dora. I have been fretted all day, so +I will go into the library to smoke to-night." + +"I will go with you, Robert. I do not believe the tobacco will make me +sick. You know when it did so, there were reasons why----" + +"You must do nothing of the kind, Dora. I cannot have you made ill, and +the fear of it doing so would take away all the comfort I might derive +from it." + +"But, Robert----" + +"No, no! I shall come to the parlor, and smoke a cigar, if you insist." + +"I shall not insist. You will not stay long away from me, dear?" + +"When my smoke is finished, I will come." + +Then he went to the library, and in a few minutes his mother followed +him there. As housekeeper, she had formulated less extravagant menus for +the table, and some other small economies, and their discussion was her +excellent excuse--if she needed an excuse, which she rarely did. Among +these economies, the dismissal of Ducie came to question again, and +Robert said he "thought Ducie would have to remain. Dora had set her +heart on keeping her," he continued, "and I think it will also be more +comfortable for me, mother." + +"Nonsense! It will not affect you in any way." + +"There is Dora's breakfast, who is to carry it upstairs to her?" + +"It is quite time that nonsense was stopped! Let the high-stomached +English 'my lady' come to the family breakfast table. It is good enou' +for the like o' her. But I'll tell you how it is. McNab has the habit o' +humoring her wi' dainties--mushrooms on toast, a few chicken livers, and +the like; and our decent oatmeal, and bread and feesh, arena as delicate +as food should be, for this daughter o' a poor Methodist preacher." + +"Come, mother, her father at least is a servant of God, one of His +messengers, and there is no nobility like to that in this world. You +know well, that Scotland has always paid more honor to God's servants, +than to the servants of earthly princes." + +"Scotsmen arena infallible in their religious views. I ken one thing +sure, and that is ministers' daughters hae been the deil's daughters to +me, and to my sons--vera Eves o' temptation wi' the apple o' sin and +misery in their hands for my two bonnie lads." + +"I wonder, mother, where my brother is." + +"He is dead. I comfort mysel' wi' that thought. Death was the best thing +that could happen him. The poor lad, not long out o' his teens, and tied +to a wife, and to the wife's mother likewise. Never was a finer lad +flung to the mischief than your brother Da--nay, my tongue willna speak +his name. Now then, remember your brother, and don't let your wife ruin +you, Robert." + +"There is no mother-in-law in my case--it is my wife that has the +mother-in-law," and he laughed in a grim, self-satisfied way. + +The mother-in-law in question was not offended, far from it; she laughed +too, and then answered: "Ay, the poor lass has the mother-in-law, but +you hae the mother, and be thankfu' for the gift and the grace o' her. +Your mother willna see you wronged, nor put upon. She'll back you up in +a' that is for your authority and welfare. She will that!" + +"Well, well! We were talking of Ducie." + +"Ducie is the backer-up against you, and she be to go to her ain folks +to-morrow. That is what I intend." + +"I do not believe you will succeed in getting rid of her." + +"If you will leave the matter entirely to me, I will rid the house o' +her." + +With this question unsettled between them, it was easy to make trouble, +and Robert was cowardly enough to leave it to the women, though he knew +well that a few decisive words from himself would put an end to the +dispute. Mrs. Campbell was glad he did not say them. She enjoyed the +thought of the probable fray, and only waited until Robert had gone to +business the next day to begin it. + +"Jepson," she then said, "you will tell Ducie to come to my parlor at +once." + +Ducie was expecting this call, and she was in the mood to stand upon her +rights, which released her from all obligations to obey Mrs. Traquair +Campbell's orders. So she loitered in her room putting curls over her +brow, in the way they were peculiarly offensive to Mrs. Campbell, adding +to this saucy misdemeanor earrings, and two pink bows, a ring on her +engagement finger, an embroidered apron, and slippers with rosettes +holding a small imitation diamond buckle. Before these preparations were +quite complete there was another very peremptory message for her, and +she laughingly told Jepson to inform his mistress, that she "hadn't made +up her mind yet, whether she would call on her, or not." + +Jepson toned down this message to a respectful apology for delay, and +Mrs. Campbell was on the point of sending another order, when Ducie +entered her room. + +"I sent for you to come _at once_. Why didn't you?" + +"I was busy." + +"What were you doing?" + +"Dressing myself." + +"You have dressed yourself like a fool." + +"Please, ma'am, that is something you have nought to do with. My +mistress told me how to dress. I am going out with her and Master David +to dinner." + +"Where are you going to dinner?" + +"I was not bid to say where." + +"You were bid _not_ to tell me." + +"My mistress did not name you." + +"You cannot go out. You will help McNab in the kitchen until two +o'clock." + +"I am not forced to do anything you tell me, ma'am, and I don't know as +I ever will again." + +"You are a lazy, impudent baggage." + +"Now then, that will do, ma'am. You are the last that ought to speak of +my laziness, for I've been working for you three months, and never got a +sixpence, or a penny piece, for all I did. Thanks, I never expected; for +it's only black words you keep by you; and as for black looks, if you +could sell them by the yard, you might start an undertaking business." + +"Do you know who you are talking to?" + +"Yes, but I don't know as ever I talked with a worse woman." + +"I will make you suffer for your impertinence." + +"That's likely, for you hurt people out of pure wickedness." + +"Your month is up to-day at five o'clock. You will help McNab until two. +Then you will pack your trunk, and come to me for your wage. There is a +train for Kendal at four o'clock. You will take it. You will leave this +house at half-past three." + +"It caps all to listen to you. But the outside of this house is the +_right_ side for anybody who expects decent treatment. I am going with +my mistress at half-past eleven, and I shall come back here with her, +when she returns. And thanks be, ma'am, I am not going to Kendal. I am +going to be married, and teach one Glasgow man how to treat a wife." + +"You will come to me at three o'clock for your month's wage." + +"You did not hire me, ma'am, and I don't take my pay from you. My +mistress is now waiting for me," and with these words she turned to +leave the room. + +"Ducie! Ducie! Come here instantly!" + +But Ducie had closed the door, and did not hear, at least she did not +answer. Then Mrs. Campbell followed her, and in something of a passion +assailed Theodora. + +"That impudent wench of yours has been behaving most rudely to me, Dora. +I want her until two o'clock, can you not make her obey me?" + +"I am going out to dinner, and need her very much. She has to take +charge of David." + +"Leave the boy at home." + +"I cannot." + +"Where are you going?" + +"To Mrs. Oliphant's. They are dining early to-day, and I shall be home +before dark." + +"That will be too late. I must have her now." + +"I cannot make her work for you, if she does not wish." Then turning to +Ducie she asked, "if she would not obey Mrs. Campbell's desire?" + +"No, ma'am," was the straight answer. "I would not lift a finger for +Mrs. Campbell." + +"You hear what she says." + +"She has talked in the most shameful way to me. I think Jepson must have +left the whiskey bottle around." + +"Oh, no! Ducie hates whiskey. She would not touch it." + +"Pay her what you owe her, and send her off." + +"I have no money to pay anything." + +"I will lend you the money." + +"I do not wish to discharge her. She satisfies me thoroughly. I see no +reason to send her away." + +"You have the best of all reasons--my order to do so." + +"I will ask Robert to-night." + +"You will ask Robert, will you? So shall I." + +Then Theodora called David, and the little lad came running to her. He +was wearing a kilt of the Campbell tartan, a small philabeg, a black +velvet jacket trimmed with gilt buttons, and a Glengary ornamented with +an eagle's feather. His frank, beautiful face, his strong vitality, and +his pretty manners were instantly notable, for when he saw his +grandmother was present, he lifted his cap and said: "Good-morning, +grandmother." She did not answer, though she regarded him a moment with +a pride she could not conceal, and as she left the room she told +herself: "The boy is a Scot, in spite of his English dam. He is a Scot, +even if he is not a Campbell, and please God we will mak' him a Campbell +yet." + +That day Theodora met at Mrs. Oliphant's a gentleman whom she had seen +there not unfrequently during the winter, an American called Kennedy, +and a very sincere friendship had grown up between them. After an early +dinner he asked permission to take David to a circus then in Glasgow, +and the boy's entreaties being added, Theodora could not resist them. +They went off in a hurry of delight, and finding herself alone with Mrs. +Oliphant, the long, carefully hidden sorrows of her heart burst forth in +a flood that bore away all pride, all restraint, and all the jealously +kept barriers of a long reticence and concealment. + +How it happened she never knew, but with passionate weeping she told her +friend all the miseries of her daily life, and the greater dread that +blackened and haunted her future--the terror lest David should be taken +from her, and sent to some severe, disciplinary boarding-school. Weeping +in each other's arms, the confession and consolation went on, until +Margaret Oliphant dared to say the words Theodora feared to utter. + +"You must take your child, and go where Robert Campbell will never find +you, until David is a man, and able to defend himself." + +"Thank you, Margaret. I have been longing to tell you that I see no +other conclusion. But where shall I go? India, Australia, Canada, are +all governed by English laws, and so then, anywhere in these countries, +David could be taken from me, and my husband could force me to return to +his home. So much I have learned, from similar cases to mine, reported +in the newspapers." + +"You must go to the United States. There, you may work and enjoy the +money you earn; no husband can take it from you. There, you cannot be +forced to live with a husband who treats you cruelly, and I am sure no +court would allow a child of tender age to be taken from a mother so +properly fitted to bring him up. You must have a talk with Mr. Kennedy. +He can help you. He will be glad to help you." + +"I thought he had business here." + +"He has business he thinks of great importance. His wife is dead, and he +brought her two daughters to a school she remembered in Edinburgh, but +not being sure his children would be happy there, he is staying to watch +over them." + +"Are they happy?" + +"No. He is going to take them home again, when the school closes in +June--perhaps before." + +"Then, Margaret?" + +"Then you could go with him?" + +They went over and over this plan, constantly evolving new fears and new +advantages, and were yet in the fever of the discussion, when Mr. +Kennedy and David returned. It was both David's and Ducie's first visit +to a circus, and after a few minutes' rapturous description, they were +permitted to go to another room and talk over the enchanting scenes. + +Then Mrs. Oliphant said: "Come now, David Campbell, and tell your sister +Theodora how heartily you are at her service." And the supposed Mr. +Kennedy took Theodora's hands, and said: "My dear sister. I have known +all your sad life for the last half-year. I am here to help you." + +But Theodora looked amazed and even troubled, and he sat down at her +side and continued: "I am really David Campbell, your husband's elder +brother. I am also the foster-son of Mrs. McNab, and I have heard all +from her, and have been waiting here, knowing that the end to a life so +unhappy must come, and wondering that you have borne it so long." + +Then Theodora remembered that she had heard from Ducie, that McNab had a +son come home from foreign parts, and that he took her out frequently, +and gave her many presents. And she looked into her brother-in-law's +face for some trace of his relationship, but could find none. David +Campbell was more Celt than Gael, he was tall and slender, had a gentle +voice and a manner that could only come from a good heart. His whole +appearance was aquiline and American, and he was dressed in the loose, +easy style of a citizen of the great Western Republic. After a most +critical survey, Theodora was ready to confess, that his visits to McNab +were perfectly safe from detection. + +"I have sat with the servants in the kitchen, have eaten with them, and +heard all they could tell me of your life, Theodora; and now I am at +your service with all my heart." + +"Then tell me what to do." + +"First, let me go and see your father and mother. Your father will give +us good advice, and we will not move till we get it--unless some +desperate cause intervenes." + +"Thank you. That is what I wish." + +"Give me their address." + +"I am sorry----" + +"Say nothing, I entreat you! I have no other duty in Glasgow, but to +look after you, and my splendid little namesake. And I assure you, if I +saw any other way of bringing my dear brother to his senses, I would try +it first. But not until Robert has lost you, will he find out what you +really are to him." + +"Have you seen your brother?" + +"Many a time. I have even spoken to him, but he has no recollection of +me. He cannot, for he seldom saw me. I should not have known him if I +had met him anywhere but in the Campbell iron works. He is a hard master +to his men." + +"But there is another Robert, I assure you, a Robert I only know--or +used to know. He was a noble, generous man, a man I loved with all my +soul." + +"I believe you, and that lost Robert only wants proper surroundings to +give him a chance. See! We are going to educate that other Robert. I +love my brother, Theodora, and we will work together to make him happy +in spite of himself, and the other evil powers that now hold him in +thrall." + +"O, thank you! Thank you, David! I never had a brother, but have often +longed for one. You are a true Godsend to me." + +"With God's help I will be! Your father's home is in Bradford?" + +"Yes, he lives in Hanover Square, Bradford. Any one will tell you where +the Rev. John Newton lives." + +"I will leave by to-night's train. I will tell them all--for McNab has +told me all--and your father will send his advice back by me." + +With this comfort in her heart Theodora did not feel afraid, though she +had stayed until the night had fallen. Mr. Oliphant took her home in his +carriage, and Robert was compelled to thank him for his courtesy; but he +followed his wife into their parlor with a dark countenance, and asked +her angrily, "why she put herself under obligations to people like the +Oliphants?" + +"Are there any objections to the Oliphants?" she asked. + +"My mother has never trusted them, never. And you know this." + +"Your mother trusts no one." + +"Where is Ducie?" + +"She is attending to David's supper." + +"Call her!" + +"Will not a little later do?" + +"No, I want her now." + +"Ring the bell, then." + +He looked astonished at the order, but he obeyed it. Theodora had sat +down. Her face was sad and stern, and her eyes flashed so angrily he did +not care to encounter them. + +In a few minutes Ducie appeared. She came in smiling and curtsied to her +master when he said: + +"Ducie?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"You were told to leave this house forever, at half-past three this +afternoon. Why have you not done so?" + +"The party who told me was not my mistress." + +"Am I your master?" + +"I suppose so." + +"Then listen to me. Here is your quarter's wage. As you are a young +girl, I will not send you to the street now that it is dark. You may +stay until eight o'clock to-morrow morning. Then you will go." + +"I shall go to-night, sir. I will not take a favor from you, though I +have done this house many favors." + +"Robert, Robert!" cried Theodora, "consider what you are doing. Ducie, +do not go away yet--for David's sake--let me keep Ducie, Robert." + +"David will go to school in the autumn. He wants no nurse." + +"Then let her stop until autumn. Robert, dear Robert, I entreat you that +I may keep Ducie." + +"After her impertinence to my mother, it is impossible. You ought to +feel that." + +"_Oh dear, oh dear!_" Theodora covered her face with her hands, and +burst into passionate weeping. + +Immediately Ducie was at her side comforting her. "Don't, ma'am. Please +don't cry. Ducie knows it is not your fault." + +Then Theodora unfastened the brooch at her throat and drew a ring from +her finger. + +"Take them, dear," she said. "We ought to pay you for three months' +extra work, but I have no money. You know that, Ducie. Take these +instead. Keep them for my sake, dear. Oh Ducie, Ducie! you are my only +friend here, and they are sending you away. My God, my dear God, have +pity on me!" + +She spoke rapidly in a transport of sorrowful feeling; she forced the +trinkets into Ducie's hand, and walking with her to the door, kissed her +there; then sobbing like a little child, she fell upon the sofa in +hopeless distress. + +"What folly!" cried Robert. "Who would believe all this fuss was about a +common servant girl--a disobedient, insolent servant girl. Why did she +not obey my mother's order?" + +Then Theodora rose to her feet. She put tears away, and answered +proudly: "Because I was her mistress, and I told her to come with me." + +"You told her to disobey my mother?" + +"Yes. Your mother dismissed her without my permission. Suppose I had +called your mother's chambermaid, and ordered her to leave the +house--the cases are precisely the same." + +"Not at all; mother is mistress and housekeeper. When she ordered Ducie +to leave, that was quite sufficient." + +"Do you expect me to obey your mother's orders?" + +"I obey her orders." + +"If they were kind and just orders, I would do all I could to meet them; +when they are unjust and tyrannical, I will not obey them. I will be a +partner in none of her sins and cruelties; I know a better way, if she +does not. And I must have a maid, Robert." + +"I will tell mother to hire one for you. But we shall have no more +English girls, so do not expect what you will not get." + +"Would any English girl want to come to Glasgow, for the sake of +Glasgow? That is a difficult thing to imagine." + +"And I do not approve of you giving valuable jewelry away." + +"It was my very own. I had it long before I saw you." + +"It was scandalous of Ducie to accept it. She ought not to be allowed to +carry it away. You were not responsible when you gave it." + +"And if it is scandalous for Ducie, my friend, to take a gift of my +jewelry from my hands, what about the Campbelton women, who broke open +my trunk, and took out of its case my class ring of diamonds and +sapphires, worth eighty pounds; a ring my class paid for, and gave me. +You promised me it should be returned. It never has been. Do you pretend +that ring was yours? And is everything I possess yours? And do you +permit your kindred to help themselves to whatever of mine they choose +to appropriate?" + +"You possess nothing--the hair on your head is mine. I can sell it if I +choose. Your wedding ring is mine." + +"I believe nothing of the kind. It is incredible." + +"It is the law of England." + +"You ought to have told me those things before I was married. I was +beguiled into slavery. Why are girls in school not taught such things, +if, indeed, they are true?" + +"It is the law of England. Any lawyer will tell you so." + +"Then it is contrary to the law of the Holy and Just One, and I will +never acknowledge its right. I say, and shall always say, my class ring +was stolen; and that the person who took it was, and is, a thief. The +law may give you my clothing and ornaments, and your mother, assuming +your things to be hers, may give them away; and you may call it lawful, +but justice and equity would soon dispose of that legal fiction. I shall +always deny it. To falter in doing so, would be sin." + +In uttering these words she became a Theodora he had never before seen. +Her beauty was triumphant over both her anger and her sorrow. Her +splendid eyes stabbed him with their scornful glances; her air and +attitude was regal as that of Justice herself, and her words went home +like javelins. Mentally and spiritually, he cowered before her. + +So he took out his watch and said: "Dinner is served." + +"I want no dinner." + +He answered, "Very well," but there was the look in his eyes of a man +who knows he is defrauding his own soul. And though at that moment he +understood his mother's hatred of her, and believed that he himself +hated her, yet even then, at the root of his hate, there lay a secret, +ardent thirst for her love. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +THEODORA MAKES A NEW LIFE + + +It is not by grand or romantic events, that life is usually shaped; the +most trivial things are the ministers of Destiny, but no matter how +insignificant they may appear, they bring with them a sense of fatality +not to be put away. When the great dramatist would make Othello murder +Desdemona, he did not choose as a cause the loss of some priceless +necklace, or a diamond ornament, he knew intuitively that such a simple +thing as a pocket handkerchief would be more natural. + +So in Theodora's case, the everyday occurrence of a quarrel with a +servant girl was the culmination of years full of far more cogent +reasons, for her final decision to abandon a life which she was unable +to manage. But when Robert went to his dinner, and left her alone to +struggle with a defeat and a loss she felt so keenly she came to this +positive conclusion. In that hour her life was brought to the fine point +of a single word. "Yes" or "No," which was it to be? Would she accept +for herself and her child the wretched life she had unknowingly chosen? +Or, would she abandon it, and seek some happier environment? And after +half-an-hour's intense thought and feeling, she stood erect, and, +clasping her hands, uttered an emphatic "Yes!" Even at that hour, her +messenger was on his way to consult her parents, and she had little +doubt as to their decision. She believed they would bid her "Go in God's +name"; and fortified by that order, she would follow the advice David +Campbell gave her. He knew the United States well, and it was a +wonderful thing, he should have come home in this time of her trouble. +Surely he had been sent for her help and direction. + +She expected no word from her parents for about four days, but a ray of +hope had penetrated the gloom of her surroundings; and wrong and +unkindness took on a transient character. They were now merely passing +annoyances, she would have gone beyond their power in a few weeks at the +most. She resolved to make no more efforts to obtain justice, no more +efforts to win a man whom neither love nor entreaties could prevent +acting after his kind. She would now permit him to lay up grievances, +with which to wound himself when he could no longer wound her. A sense +of peace, coming from her acceptance of destiny, gave to her a singular +calmness of manner and countenance, and a renewed alertness of mind, and +mental lucidity. + +In the morning Ducie, wearing her hat and cloak, served her late +mistress and little David with their breakfast; then the three parted +forever. David cried bitterly; the women had no tears left. In +half-an-hour McNab came to remove the tray. + +"I would leave your room as it is, ma'am," she said. "It will be seen +to. Tak' my advice, and dinna lift a finger to it. Yoursel' and Master +David will be getting your breakfast ten minutes earlier, for I am going +to look after that bit business mysel'. You needna fret a moment anent +the matter. It's settled." + +"I do not intend to fret about anything, McNab." + +"That's right. It is a lang lane that has no turning. You are coming to +the turning, I think." + +"I think so." + +"But I wouldn't let on I saw it." + +"Neither by look, nor word." + +"That's right, too. If wanted, call McNab, but be sparing o' +calls--there is both watcher and listener. I'm telling you." + +"I know." + +Theodora smiled understandingly, and McNab left the room, but left +behind her a strong sense of guardianship and love. Yet just then McNab +was rather in the dark, for her foster-son had not had time to tell her +of his journey to Yorkshire. But uncertainty did not dash McNab, she had +one of those blessed dispositions that are always sure no news is good +news; and who always expect the "something" that may have happened, to +be something wonderfully auspicious. + +"Perhaps my lad had a word with her yesterday," she thought, "and +perhaps he is making a move--for he wouldn't move without her word. I +dare say that is just what has happened." She satisfied herself with +this belief, and to the hopeful and cheerful, good angels send their +heart's desire. + +So Theodora sat still and let the house go on. Not until she was +dressing for dinner did a maid come to attend to her rooms, but she made +no remark. A short time afterwards, the girl returned with a letter and +the information, that it had been opened by Mrs. Campbell through +mistake. It was from Theodora's publisher, and purported to contain a +check for seventy pounds and fifteen shillings for royalties due her. +But the check was not in the letter. Her heart beat wildly, her cheeks +burned, she rose as if to go and inquire for it; but on second thoughts +she sat down and waited until Robert came into the room. Then she showed +him the letter. He barely glanced at it, then threw it on the table. + +"Will you ask your mother for my money, Robert? I want to buy David and +myself some necessary clothing." + +"I have the check." + +"Give it to me, Robert. I need it so much." + +"I put it in my pocket-book, because it is mine. I give it to you, +because I choose to give it to you. Most husbands would not do so." + +"You need not at every opportunity tell me that I have no rights, and no +money, even if I myself have earned the money. One telling of such awful +injustice is enough. I wish to know if my letters are also yours?" + +"If I choose to claim them, they are mine." + +"Are they also free to your mother?" + +"If I choose to make them so." + +"Then I will do without letters." + +"You can please yourself." + +She did not answer, and he went into the dining-room. In a short time +she steadied herself sufficiently to follow him, but no one but Isabel +took the slightest notice of her. Mrs. Campbell was in high spirits, and +talked with her son in a jocular way about some event of which Theodora +was ignorant. Jepson watched her plate and saw that she was attended to, +and Isabel showed her disapproval of her mother's and brother's behavior +by a sullen silence. For she was slow-minded, and could think of no way +to express her sympathy with Theodora, except sulking at those who were +annoying her. But she rose from the table when Theodora rose, and when +Theodora said "Good-night, Isabel," she answered: "I should like to come +into your parlor for a few minutes--if agreeable." + +"You are very welcome, Isabel." + +"Thank you. I only wanted to say, that I had nothing to do with the +opening of your letter. I would no more open your letter, than I would +pick your pocket." + +"I am sure of that, Isabel. I wish you were my friend. I am very lonely +since Christina went away. Have you heard from her?" + +"Not one word. I am very lonely too. Good-night." + +And Theodora thought until sleep came of the girl's sad face, and pitied +her more than she pitied herself. For hope was building a new life in +her heart, and she looked forward to a future, that in its freedom, +beauty, and usefulness would atone for the present, and the past years +of her married life; but, oh the sameness, and ennui, and moral and +mental death of a life without aim or purpose, without love or +expectations, or sensible work to do. + +Early on the fourth day Mrs. Oliphant called, and brought Theodora a +letter. She professedly came to ask Theodora to drive with her, and when +her invitation was declined, did not remain many minutes. But Mrs. +Campbell watched her coming and going, and made plenty of sarcastic +remarks about both the lady and her dress, her carriage and her horses +and servants. Isabel was scarcely conscious of them. Since the loss of +her sister she had become still more severe, intense, and reticent; +besides which, though no one suspected the movement, Isabel was +considering a break in social custom, undreamed of by the severely +proper maidens of her set. + +It related to Sir Thomas Wynton. She had had a letter from him +describing his journey to Paris, and his present life in that city, and +he had asked Isabel to write him "all the news she could gather about +Wynton village, and their friends in Glasgow, and to add also anything +social, political, or religious she thought would interest him." And +this request had opened up a pleasant prospect of collecting and +arranging all the news she could glean from people, or from newspapers, +and then writing the result to Sir Thomas. It was a wild, a daring +thing for Isabel Campbell to attempt, but she had resolved to ask no +one's advice about the right or the wrong of it. She would decide the +matter for herself, and she was trying to do so while her mother was +mocking at Mrs. Oliphant's dress and general appearance. + +Meantime Theodora watched her friend away, and then went into her +parlor, locking the door after closing it. David was busy with his slate +and pencil in the music room, and she locked the door of that room also. +Then she sat down with her letter in her hand, and after a moment's +uplifting of her heart, she opened it and read the following words: + + "MY DEAR THEODORA:--Your mother and I have thoroughly + considered all your good brother-in-law has told us. I will not + dwell on our surprise and sorrow. I will but say, that you + ought to put an end at once to a life which is dwarfing you on + every side, and must be fast ruining your husband's better + nature. For the cruelty and injustice done at first reluctantly + has evidently become to him a necessary alternative to the + dreariness of his business life. As some men find amusement in + badgering and baiting animals, he apparently satisfies the same + brutal instinct by baiting a wife whom our cruel laws has + placed in his absolute power. I counsel you to leave him before + conditions are worse, and some tragedy results. Take David + Campbell's advice as to the locality where you may dwell in + peace and safety. I approve what he has proposed to us so + entirely, that whenever you are ready to move, your mother and + I will go with you, though it should be to the ends of the + earth. Think a moment, and you will understand that you must go + with us, and not with your brother-in-law. I shall write to the + Chairman of Conference to-day and resign my pastorate, and you + know a Methodist preacher and his wife can move almost at a + day's notice. Our clothing is all we personally own. My future + is prepared for. There is nothing to fear. The Great Companion + will go with us. Wherever your new home is made, our home will + be made, and we will pray together for the man you still love. + He will return to you "clothed and in his right mind." Do not + doubt. Go away and rest your aching heart. Has the sun of your + love set? Some blessing lies in the night; do not fear the + darkness. Rest, and the sun of love will rise again. I append a + few reasons why you should at this crisis leave your husband. + If you are fully satisfied in your own mind, you can neglect + them. + + "1st. Habit reconciles us to much suffering, but a miserable + marriage is a trial no one has any business to have. It is + without excuse, and therefore without comfort. Submission to + evils God ordains is the height of energy and nobility; + submission to the mistakes we ourselves make is the climax of + weakness and cowardice. If two cannot live together in peace, + they had better separate than cause each other to sin every + day. + + "2d. If you know you are on a wrong road, leave it; a wrong + road cannot lead you right. + + "3d. If you are sick, and the surgeon's knife is necessary, do + not waste time with drugs and sedatives. Accept the knife as + restorative. + + "4th. If you make a mistake of any kind, it is your manifest + duty to rectify it, or to spring out of its shadow; and an + unhappy marriage is the most pathetic of all mistakes. If, + however, you have made an unhappy marriage, why should you give + permanency to wrong, and finality to suffering? There are no + elements of reformation in the irrevocable, it is a hell + without hope and without energy. + + "5th. You must not judge your position near the twentieth + century by the laws of Moses. The Church has gone back to them + for authority to burn witches, and buy and sell slaves, and + collect tithes, etc. We are come unto Bethlehem, and are not + under the laws of Sinai. The laws of England are cruel enough + to wives; there is no need to go back to Leviticus. + + "6th. Christ truly said, 'What God has joined together, let no + man put asunder.' What _God_ joins together, no man can put + asunder. Poverty, sorrow, care, shame, helplessness only draw + the bond tighter. They go to the grave together, and with a + noble constancy look across the grave to an immortal + companionship. + + "I dare say, my dear daughter, you have thought of all these + things; think now of what good you can do each other by + separation: + + "1st. Robert is under wrong influences, while you are present + to provoke them. Day by day he is learning to be more and more + cruel. But when he has lost you, he will remember your + sweetness and goodness, and long for you, + + '_For we never know the worth of a thing, + Until we have thrown it away._' + + "2d. That evil old woman is growing constantly in all malice, + cruelty, and sin. Be no longer an occasion for her wickedness. + + "3d. You yourself are wasting your life in Doubting Castle. + Hopeful found the key of it in his breast. Do likewise. You + ought to be in the very height and glory of your existence. You + are doing nothing, learning nothing, losing everything. Make a + change; you cannot make it too quickly. It will probably + ploughshare and harrow your heart, as the farmer ploughshares + and harrows the field; but after this preparation, you can sow + the seeds of your future happiness. Now all seed sowing is a + mystery, whether in the heart, or in the field, but sow in love + and in faith, and the harvest will truly better all your + expectations. Think well over your movements, but do not think + till you cannot act. Begin at once to prepare for what must be + done, keeping in mind the good motto of the Eighty-seventh + Regiment: '_Clear the Way!_' sweep every fear and doubt out of + it, all encumbrances of body or mind. Carry no old grudges or + offences with you, no sad memories. Step out into the new way + with a trusting, cheerful, childlike spirit, and be sure and + take the Great Companion with you. Mother will write you + to-morrow. + + Your loving parents, + + "JOHN AND MARY NEWTON." + +This letter "cleared the way," for Theodora, and with the daring +decision of fresh young faculties, she grasped the whole position +confidently. She saw that she must, for the present, give up her +husband--it was absolutely necessary and remedial. But she also saw a +future with him that should redeem the whole unhappy past. She saw it, +because from her long trial she had brought a three-edged spirit, +tempered and polished by the fires of many afflictions; and an Inner +Woman perfect--no member wanting, none sick or disabled, an Inner Woman +full-grown, ready for any emergency, with time for everything human. She +had also been much encouraged and strengthened by her father's prompt +preparation, and she told herself, as she carefully destroyed the +letter, that as the thing was to do, it were well to do it as soon as +possible. + +As if to urge her to this finality, her home became still more +uncomfortable after Ducie's departure. Day after day passed, but no girl +was hired in Ducie's place, and Mrs. Campbell's chambermaid never +reached Theodora's rooms, until it was time for her to dress for dinner. +Indeed, it appeared as if the girl had been ordered to wait until her +presence would be the most annoying. And in a few days, the question of +breakfast became a serious one. One morning Mrs. Campbell met McNab on +the stairway with the tray containing Theodora's and David's breakfast +in her hands. She looked angrily at the woman, and said in slow, +positive words: + +"Take that tray back to the kitchen!" + +"It is Mrs. Campbell's and Master David's breakfast." + +"Mrs. Robert can come to the breakfast table, as well as I can." + +"And whar will Master David eat his mouthful? You hae said peremptor, he +shallna eat at your board." + +"He can eat with you--he can eat anywhere--or nowhere, for aught I +care." + +"Na, na! He will be Campbell o' the Campbell Iron Works yet, and he is +beyond eating wi' serving-men and lasses. I will just tak' the tray up +this morning, for my arms are aching wi' the weight o' it." + +"You will just take the tray to the kitchen." + +"That is the last order you will gie Flora McNab, ma'am." + +"Your threat is an old one, McNab; I'm not fearing it." + +"Nor me expecting you to be feared. When you dinna fear God Almighty, +why would you be fearing the like o' me? Out o' the way then, and let me +by you wi' the tray." + +Very uncomfortable was the family breakfast that morning. Something was +the matter with Jepson. Every dish was cold, and is there any food +nastier than cold porridge and cold boiled fish? Robert grumbled over +his plates, and Mrs. Campbell was equally cross, and still more +explanatory of her temper. About the middle of the meal, McNab entered +the room in her church bonnet, and her double Paisley shawl, pinned with +its large Cairngorm brooch. Robert looked at her in amazement, and with +a laugh that was not a pleasant one, asked: + +"Where are you going, McNab, so early in the morning?" + +"Back to the Hielands, sir. Pay me my wage, and I'll be awa' in time for +the Perth train." + +"You are not going to leave us?" + +"That is just what I am going to do." + +"Nonsense!" + +"I'm not going to stop in this house, and see your wife and bonnie bairn +starved for food. The poor bit laddie is crying the now, for his bread +and milk, and your mother--wi' the hard heart o' her--willna let me gie +either the bairn, or his mother a mouthfu'; so I am going back to the +Hielands whar folks hae hearts--and Jepson is going likewise, and the +twa lasses are going. Pay me my honest wages, Maister Campbell, for I'm +in a hurry to get out o' hearing o' the starving baby, crying for his +bowl o' milk." + +"That will do, McNab. The Perth train does not leave until eleven +o'clock. Go into the library, I want to speak to you, and take Jepson +and the two girls there. I will come in a few minutes." He was obeyed +without a word, for he spoke with that tone and manner which compelled +even the leather-dressed, leather-masked men who fed his furnaces to +cower before him. + +When McNab and Jepson had left the room he turned to his mother and +asked: "Am I to pay them, and send them away?" + +"That would be unspeakable foolishness. I can not possibly do without +McNab and Jepson. The two other hizzies can go if they want to." + +"Then why do you meddle with McNab?" + +"It is not her business to wait on your wife and child." + +"Then whose business is it?" + +"No one's, at present." + +"Then see you find some one to-day whose business it will be to wait on +them. If you do not, I will take my wife and child myself to the +Victoria Hotel." + +"I am fairly worn out with the quarrelling and trouble your wife and +child make in the house. There is no pleasuring either of them. I have +sent two girls to her, and she wouldn't give house-room to one, nor the +other--decent girls, as I could find." + +"One of them was drunk when she called, and the other had never cleaned +a parlor, or made a bed in her life. It was kitchen work she wanted; and +she spoke Gaelic better than English. See that a proper girl is hired +to-day. It is an outrageous thing, to set me to sorting your servant +girls' wrongs. I shall tell McNab to serve my wife and child, until a +proper maid is found for them." + +But such disputes as this, common as they were on every household +subject, did not trouble Theodora, as they did when she had to face a +permanence of them. She knew now they would soon be over. They were +passing away with every hour. Besides this consideration, a great event +in life takes all importance out of small events, and she was so +occupied with the total change approaching her, that the trifle of Mrs. +Campbell's temper, or injustice did not seem to be much worth minding. +Her cheerfulness and good temper was an amazing thing to Mrs. Campbell, +who not understanding its reason, set it down to "Dora's aggravating +ways." + +"She thinks it annoys me," she said to Isabel, "she thinks it annoys me +to appear so indifferent to my just anger, but she has to thole it +anyway, and I'll wager, she likes it no better for all her smiling and +singing to herself." + +But Mrs. Campbell's just anger had now lost all its importance to +Theodora, for every one was practically ready for the change, though the +end of April was the date fixed unless some good or evil event +sanctioned an earlier movement. + +This event came unexpectedly, and in a different direction from any +anticipated. Robert left home one morning about the twenty-second of +April very uncomfortably. His mother had been complaining bitterly of +David's restlessness at night. She said he must be removed to the upper +floor. She was astonished that a boy of his age should want to sleep +near his mother. He must sleep beside Dora's maid for the future. She +could not have her sleep broken, at her time of life it meant serious +illness--and so on. + +After breakfast Robert spoke to his wife on the subject, and he was +amazed at the spirit she displayed. She said "David was sick last night. +I was fighting croup from midnight until dawn, and you know, Robert, how +alarmingly subject to this terrible disease he is. How could he be left +to a tired girl's care? She would not have heard that first hoarse cry +last night, and we might have found him dead this morning--strangled all +alone in the darkness. No! he shall not leave me, or if you say he must +go to the servants' floor, then I will go too." + +With this subject still in abeyance Robert left her. Then Mrs. Campbell +sent servants to remove the boy's cot to the maid's room, and Theodora +positively refused to allow its removal, sending the men away, and then +locking her doors. She was quivering with fear and feeling, when Robert +unexpectedly returned home. He said the mail had brought him bad news. +He had been informed that Sykes and Company of Sheffield--who were +heavily indebted to him--had failed, and he must go to Sheffield at +once. He told Theodora to pack his valise for a two weeks' stay, while +he went into the city for a certain accountant, whom he proposed to take +with him, in order to examine the books of the delinquent firm. + +"Pack my valise for a two weeks' stay." The poor wife trembled through +all her being. It was the order for her own departure. The packing of +his valise would be the last act of the sorrowful drama of her marriage. +It was the last time she would ever do him the service. _The last time!_ +Every garment had a tragic look. She touched them tenderly. Her +unchecked tears dropped upon them. If it was not for David's sake, she +doubted whether she could carry out her intentions--but her child, her +child! They wanted even now to separate them in their home, in a few +weeks they might take him entirely away from her. His old enemy Croup +would find him alone in the dark and some dreadful night strangle him. +He would be punished for faults he did not even understand, flogged, +deprived of food and companionship, tormented by cruel boys older than +himself--oh, she could not bear to continue her reflections, for the +boy's sake she must leave his father. And then a kind of anger at the +father followed in the steps of her grief. If she could have trusted his +father to defend him in all cases, it need not have been; but she could +see, even in the dispute concerning his sleeping-place, his father was +inclined to stand by the cruel wish of the grandmother. + +Oh, but the packing of that valise was a hard task! And when it was +strapped and locked, it seemed almost to reproach her. She was sitting +gazing at it, when Robert entered the room and caught the look of love +and despair which filled her eyes, and saddened her face and her +attitude. In spite of himself it flattered him. He was astonished at her +devotion, but it comforted him. His mother had been angry when she +heard of Sykes and Company's failure. She had reminded him of her advice +to have nothing to do with them--had told him "Sykes looked shifty and +rascally, and her words had come true, and perhaps he would believe her +next time she gave him good advice." But Theodora had been full of +sympathy, and had given him only kind and encouraging words. + +His manner was so unusually gentle, that she ventured to say: "I am +afraid to be left here without you, Robert. They will take David from +me, or I shall have a fight to keep him. It hurts me so, dear, what am I +to do? Will you tell mother to let David's sleeping-place alone until +you come back?" + +He was silent for a moment, then he answered: "Take David and go and see +your own father and mother. You could stay ten or twelve days. When I am +ready to come home, I will telegraph you to meet me at Crewe Station, +then we can make the journey back together." + +"Oh, Robert, Robert! Oh, you dear Robert! What a joy that will be to +David and myself! How shall I thank you?" + +"Never mind the thanks. Now I must go. I have not a minute to spare." + +"Davie is in the next room." + +He went to the child's cot, and stood a moment looking at him. He was +not yet recovered from the night's awful struggle, but he opened his +eyes and stretched upward his arms, and Robert could not resist the +silent appeal. Thank God, O thank God, he stooped and kissed him, and +felt the little arms around his neck in a way that amazed him! Then he +looked at Theodora and lifted his valise. The carriage was at the door, +his mother was hurrying him, he said: "Good-bye, Dora. I will telegraph +you about Crewe." + +"Thank you, Robert. Please say so before mother, or she may try to +prevent my going." Her eyes were fixed on him. There was a piteous +entreaty in them--would he not kiss and embrace her also? Oh, if he knew +it was the last time! If he only knew it! The thought was full of +passionate longing. He could not but feel it. He was just going to take +her hand, when Mrs. Campbell opened the door and said fretfully: + +"You will miss your train, Robert--delaying and delaying for nothing at +all." + +"I was telling Dora to go home on Friday, and see her parents for twelve +days or more. I will meet her at Crewe, and we shall come home +together." + +"Very well. I'll be gey and thankful to have the house to ourselves for +a few days--or forever." + +Robert was hastening to the carriage and did not hear her reply, but +when it was about to move, he bent forward and looked at the door he was +leaving. Theodora stood on the steps. Her heart was in her eyes, her +hands clasped above her breast. She saw him bend forward, and leaned +towards him smiling. Never throughout all his life days did he forget +that last glimpse of the beautiful woman who that morning watched him +out of her sight. When he was quite gone she turned into the house with +that sense of completeness so essential even to the sorrowful. She had +seen the last of her husband. The bitterness of the separation was over. +She went to Davie and let him comfort her, then she dressed the boy, and +left him in the care of McNab; for she knew that she must go to Mrs. +Oliphant's without delay. The door had been set wide open for them, and +they must make the best of the opportunity; or perhaps lose their lucky +hour forever. + +Fortunately David Campbell was at Mrs. Oliphant's, having returned from +Edinburgh not ten minutes previously. He heard Theodora's tidings with a +calm pleasure. "We are ready," he said. "Your father and mother have +been in Glasgow for a week. They are boarding at a house in Monteith +Row, a pretty locality on Glasgow Green." + +"Oh, David, were you not afraid?" + +"Not at all," he answered, "the Campbells are exclusive West-Enders. +They would be as likely to go near Monteith Row as to go to Ashantee. +Your parents are known as Mr. and Mrs. Bell. You must not try to see +them until you meet on the steamer." + +"Very well. When shall we sail?" + +"This is Tuesday. The Anchor Line have a good boat sailing at noon, +Saturday. Can you be ready?" + +"Easily. About your daughters?" + +"They are ready. They will be here Friday, or perhaps Thursday. Now I +will go and secure the four best staterooms possible. I shall take them +in the name of Kennedy--and that will be our name, until we reach New +York." + +Theodora remained with Mrs. Oliphant until David returned with the +tickets for the four staterooms. She felt then, that there was no +reprieve, and that her first duty now was to be as cheerful and brave as +she ought to be. On reaching home, she found that David's cot had been +carried to the maid's room, but she made no complaint. The fact swept +away all doubts and misgivings; it was the last injustice, the last +cruelty that could be inflicted, and it was a vain one, for David could +sleep with her, until the end came. + +On the following morning, she asked Jepson to send to her room the +smallest of her trunks, and she put into it a few things belonging to +her girlhood's life--her music, her textbooks, a novel she had nearly +finished writing, and the beautiful linen she had made and embroidered +with her own hands for her marriage outfit. Two dresses were all that +remained of the gowns bought at this date. These she took with her. In +her hand she would carry a Gladstone bag with toilet necessities, and +plenty of clean white waists and collars for David and herself. Their +suits, bought with reference to this necessity, were of dark blue cloth; +David's made into his first breeches and jacket, and Theodora's in the +simplest manner possible, but as Mrs. Campbell said to Isabel: + +"Plain, of course. But look at the lines and the make o' it! Menzie's +cutting and fitting no doubt. It cost five guineas to make that dress +and the cloak with it. She's a wasteful creature." + +"Robert said she bought it herself, and----" + +"So she ought, so she ought! And the boy dressed up in broadcloth and +linen waists! A few yards of lindsey would be more fitting." + +"Mother, he is a beautiful boy." + +"Is he? I cannot see myself where his beauty comes in." + +During the next two days Theodora employed herself in folding carefully +away all her clothing, and locking it up in its proper drawers. Her +jewels she packed separately, and with a letter, put into McNab's +charge, requesting her to give them to Mr. Campbell, if she did not +return with him. When Friday morning came, she rose early, dressed +herself and David, and was ready for the train that left just about the +time the Campbell breakfast was served. In this way, she hoped to escape +the presence of Jepson, whom she feared might be told to accompany her. +On the contrary, Mrs. Campbell grumbled at Jepson for helping the +coachman with her trunk, and the only question she asked was: "What road +did she take, Jepson?" + +"The Caledonian, ma'am," was the answer. + +"Hum-m-m! I thought so." + +"Has she gone?" said Isabel. + +"Yes, and a good riddance of her." + +"Oh, mother, and none of us bid her good-bye, or wished her a pleasant +time. I intended to go to the train with her--now I have missed----" + +"Making a fool of yourself. That is all you have missed." + +"What train would Mrs. Campbell take, Jepson?" + +"The nine o'clock train, I suppose, miss." + +But Theodora did not take the nine o'clock train. She gave a porter a +shilling to care for her trunk, and watched an hour in a waiting-room. +No one suspicious appearing, she requested the porter to call a cab, and +put her trunk upon it, and then without fear or hurry, she drove to a +certain store, where David Campbell was waiting. He went with her at +once to the pier of the Anchor Line, where they left her trunk to be +placed with the rest of the Kennedy luggage in the hold. "And now, where +will you hide yourself until to-morrow morning, Theodora?" he asked +kindly. + +"Mrs. Oliphant----" + +"No. She wants you, but I told her it could not be. Her servants will be +closely questioned, no doubt." + +"I see." + +"The steamer touches at Greenock. Get a room in the Tontine Inn. Have +your food served in your room, and keep quiet until you walk down to +meet the steamer." + +"I will do so. It is the best plan." + +So they went to the railway station, and David Campbell put them into a +comfortable carriage for Greenock. "You will see your father and mother +to-morrow," he said. "They are as happy as two little children over the +journey. It is a great event for them, and they are talking of their +little grandson continually. They long to see him." + +Theodora hardly knew what was being said to her. She was in a kind of +dreamlike state--a state, however, in which no mistakes are ever made. +The Inner Woman had control, and she had quite resigned herself to its +leading. "David and I will meet the steamer in the morning. Be on the +watch for us, brother," she said. + +"I will. You will go to the Tontine?" + +"Certainly." + +"And if they should not have room for you there, then go to the----" + +"I will go to the Tontine. There is a room ready for me there." + +He looked at her kindly and understood. Those who have watched long, +solemn nights away with the Beloved One, slowly dying, know something +beyond the lines of science, or the teachings of creeds. He said +good-bye to her, without a fear of any mistake. + +At Greenock she found the prepared room in the Tontine, and she made +herself and little Davie comfortable, and then ordered their dinner to +be brought to them. She was glad of this pause in her affairs, and long +after Davie was asleep, she sat pondering the past and the future. At +first she was dazed and half-unbelieving of the great event that had +taken place in her life. In the darkness of the room, she fell into +short sleeps, and kept feeling around in the darkness of her mind to +learn what troubled her, until suddenly, in cruel starts from sleep, her +sorrow found her out. + +But this is the depth in our nature, where the divine and human are one. +Here, in our weakness and weariness, we are visited by the Upholder of +the tranquil soul, and words wonderful and secret, cheer the weary and +heavy-laden; for God has royal compassions for the broken in heart. +Theodora awoke in the morning full of hope, and in one of her most +cheerful moods. The road no longer frightened her, the ocean no longer +separated her. She had wings now for all the chasms of life, and when +she opened a little book for a word to clear the way, and the day, she +cried out joyfully, for this was her message: + + "_The Lord is with me, hastening me forward._"[2] + +[Footnote 2: 1st Esdras 1, 27.] + +At the time appointed the steamer reached Greenock, she was there to +meet it, and David Campbell was at the gangway watching for her. There +was a crowd of incomers and outgoers, and David was glad of it, for +Theodora with her child reached their stateroom without notice from any +one. There she found her father and mother, and the joy and wonder of +that meeting may well be left to the imagination. + +It had been decided, that until David found out whether any of the +passengers were sitters in Dr. Robertson's church, or people from any +circumstance likely to know Theodora, she should remain in seclusion; +but in a couple of days, David had clearly established the safety of her +appearance; and after that assurance, she was constantly on deck with +the rest of the party. All the way across the Atlantic they had a blue +sky, a blue sea, sunshine, and good company; and one morning they were +awakened by some one calling "Land! Land in sight!" and hastening on +deck they stood together watching their approach to the low-lying shores +of that New World which held for them the promise of a happy home and a +prosperous future. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +CHRISTINA AND ISABEL + + +Just about the time Theodora's party were sitting down to a happy dinner +in the Astor House, New York, Robert reached his home in Glasgow. He had +confidently expected to see his wife waiting for him at Crewe Junction, +and been disappointed and angry at her failure to do so. "Women are all +alike," he muttered to himself, "they never keep an appointment, and +they never catch a train." He wandered round the waiting-rooms looking +for her, and so missed his own train, and had to wait two hours at one +of the most depressing stations in England. For though the traffic is +immense there, the stony, prison-like order, the silent, hurrying +passengers, and the despondent-looking porters, fill the heart with a +restless passion to escape from the place. Without analyzing this +feeling, Robert was conscious of it, and it intensified the annoyance of +his detention. + +All the way to Glasgow he pondered on the singular circumstance of +Theodora's failure to obey the telegram he had sent her. She had always +been so prompt and glad to meet him, there must have been some mistake +made in the message. He tried to remember its exact words, but could +not, and as he neared his own city a certain fear assailed him. He +began to wonder if his wife or child was sick--or if any accident had +happened on their journey from Bradford to Crewe. But this solution he +quickly dismissed as incredible. Theodora would have managed under any +circumstances to send him word. She would not have kept him waiting and +wondering. It was utterly unlike her. At length the anxious journey was +over, but in hurrying from the train to his carriage, he noticed that +the coachman spoke in an easy, nonchalant way, and that there was no +sign about him of anything unusual or unhappy. When he reached Traquair +House his mother and Isabel met him at the door, and Jepson unlocked his +apartments, and began to turn on the light in the parlors. + +"We shall have dinner in twenty minutes, Robert," said Mrs. Campbell, +and Jepson added: + +"Your rooms upstairs are prepared for you, sir." + +No one had named Theodora, and he had not done so either. Why? He could +not tell "why"; for her name beat at his lips, and inquiry about her was +the great demand of his nature. He looked into her rooms, and the sense +of emptiness and desertion about them was like a blow. David's cot had +been removed, he saw that at once, and felt angry about it. And the +perfect order of things shocked something in his feelings never before +recognized. He missed sorely those pretty bits of disorder, that seemed +to him now almost a part of his wife and child--the bow of ribbon, the +little shawl or scarf over a chair-back, the small book of daily texts, +and the thin parchment copy of "_The Imitation_" on her table; David's +puzzle on the window seat, or his tiny handkerchief on the floor beside +it. + +Restless and unhappy he went down to the dining-room. His mother was in +high spirits; Isabel still and indifferent. But it was Isabel who asked: +"How much longer is Dora going to stay? The house is so lonely without +her." + +"The house has been peaceful and restful without her, and the noisy +child. I am sure it has been a great relief," corrected Mrs. Campbell. + +"I am anxious about Dora," said Robert with a touch of his most sullen +temper, "she ought to have met me at Crewe, and did not do so. It was +not like her." + +"It was very like her. She is the most unreliable of women. I dare say +we shall see her by the next train--perhaps we----" + +"Mother, you are mistaken both about Dora and the train. Dora can always +be depended on, and I waited for the next train, but she was not on it. +After dinner I must telegraph to Bradford and elsewhere." + +"Perfect nonsense! Let her alone, and she'll come home--no fear of it. +She was, however, keen enough to get away--off before we had +breakfast--and without a word to any one." + +"Mother," corrected Isabel, "that was our fault. She came to bid us +good-bye, but we neither of us spoke to her." + +"Drop the subject," said Robert in a manner too positive to be +disobeyed. + +He himself dropped every subject, and finished his meal in a silence so +eloquent, that no one had the spirit to break it. His mother looked at +him indignantly, his sister kept her eyes on her plate, and ate with a +noiseless deliberation, that was almost provoking. It was a most +wretched meal. + +"And all because that creature missed meeting him at Crewe," snorted the +angry mother as her son left the room. + +"You had better go to the library, mother, and find out what is the +matter. I dare say it is business--and not Dora at all." + +"I will go as soon as he has had a ten minutes' smoke. He is as touchy +as tinder yet, Isabel." + +But Robert did not go to the library. As he came out of the dining-room +McNab walked up to him, and he spoke more pleasantly to her than he had +yet done to any one since his return. "Good-evening, McNab," he replied +to her greeting, "I hope you are well." + +"As well as I ever expect to be in this house, sir. My dear young +mistress left these jewels in my care--fearing what happened once +before, sir--and I promised to keep them safe till you came home; the +same I've done. And she left this letter likewise for you, and I hope +there is no bad news in it, sir, for she was breaking her heart the day +she was writing it." + +"Breaking her heart? What about, McNab?" + +"They were going to take the bit bonnie bairn from her--and him every +night, as like as not, having a black life-and-death-fight wi' what they +ca' croup. You know, sir?" + +"I know, McNab. Thank you!" and instead of going to the library, he went +into his own parlor, and locked both doors leading into it. Then he sat +down with the letter in his hand. He looked at the neatness with which +it was folded, addressed, and sealed, and he had a sudden memory of the +joy and expectation with which he had once been used to receive such +letters. He had no fear of bad news. He expected only Theodora's usual +pleading for little David, and he thought it likely the removal of the +boy's cot typified a more than common dispute concerning the child. + +When he finally opened the letter, a small parcel fell out of it, which +he laid aside. Then he read without pause or faltering, the following +words: + + "MY DEAR ROBERT:--A little while ago, you told me all that I + possessed, that even my wedding ring, belonged to you. To-day I + restore you all that you have given me, and with my raiment and + ornaments, the dearest ornament of all--my wedding ring. You + have broken every pledge it promised. You have treated me, and + permitted others to treat me, with a sustained, deliberate + neglect and cruelty that is almost incredible. To-day I make + you free from all obligations to me, and my child. Do not try + to find us. You cannot. We shall disappear as completely as a + stone thrown into mid-ocean. But you know well, that I may be + fully trusted to do all my duty to David. Oh, Robert, Robert, I + cannot bear to reproach you! I love you, though I am leaving + you forever. My father and mother go with me, and God and they + are a multitude. I shall want for nothing but your love, and + that was taken from me long ago. My love, my love! Farewell + forever. + + "THEODORA." + +Then he unfolded the bit of tissue paper which the letter contained, and +out of it fell the wedding ring. He laid it in the hollow of his hand +and looked at it. And as he looked, the storm in his heart gathered and +gathered, until all its waves and billows went over him. + +"_Gone! Gone forever!_" he said in an awful whisper--a whisper that came +from a depth of his nature never plumbed before; an abyss that only +despair and death know of. He rose and walked about, he sat down, he +re-read the letter, he tried to think, and could not. He threw off his +coat and vest, his collar and neckerchief; they lay at his feet, and he +kicked them out of his way. "I am choking--dying!" he murmured. "Dora! +Dora! Dora! Where are--you?" + +The unfortunate man was torn with the most contrary feelings. He loved +the adorable woman who had cast him off; and he hated her. Remorse for +his own neglect and cruelty alternated with anger at his wife for the +pain she was giving him. And she had robbed him of his child also, _his +child_! Oh, he would have the child back, if he moved heaven and earth +to compass it. There was no order, no method in his grief, one dreadful +accusation followed another like actual blows, from a hand he could +neither stay, nor entreat, nor reason with. + +In hoarse mutterings, and fierce imprecations, he gave voice to a +passion of grief and anger so furious, that ordinary speech utterly +failed it. Frequently he struck the table or the piano frenzied blows +with his hand--or he kicked out of his path chairs, stools, or whatever +came in his raging way. Even Theodora's embroidery frame was thus +treated, and then tenderly lifted and straightened, and put in its +place. His restless feet and hands, his distracted walk, his mad +motions, his distorted face and inflamed eyes, all indicated a tumult of +suffering and despair, rendered all the more terrible by the shrill +strain of half-religious oaths, which like flashes of hell-fire made the +blackness of darkness in which he suffered all the more lurid and awful. + +At length his physical nature refused to express any longer his mad +sorrow by motion. He fell prone upon the sofa, and clasping his hands +over his heart, he sobbed as only strong men in the very exhaustion of +all other expression of feeling can sob. By this time it was late, the +house was dark and still, and only the miserable man's mother was awake +and watching. She felt that there was sorrow in the house, and when +midnight came she went softly downstairs and stood at her son's door, +listening to the soul in agony, moaning, sobbing, accusing, blaming, +entreating, defying. She feared to let him know she was there and she +feared to leave him. She was at a loss to account for a passion so +amazing and uncontrolled. Stepping softly back to her room she +reconsidered herself. In a couple of hours there was the crash of china +falling, and her temper got the better of her fear. She went hastily and +without attempt at secrecy, to her son's door. + +"Robert!" she called, but there was no answer. + +"Robert, Robert Campbell, open this door!" and she shook the handle +violently. + +He rose with an oath, flung the door wide, and stood glaring at her from +eyes red and swollen and fierce with anger. "What do you want?" he +asked. "Can you not let me alone, even at midnight?" + +"What is the matter with you? Are you ill?" + +"No." + +"Then what for are you sobbing and crying? I'm fairly ashamed for you. +Do you know it's two o'clock in the morning?" + +"I don't care what time it is. Go away." + +"I will not go. You are demented--or you are wicked beyond believing." + +"Go away!" + +"I will not. What, in God's name, is the matter?" + +"Theodora!" he shrieked, as he flung his arms upward. + +"O, it is Theodora, is it? I thought so." + +"She has left me, left me forever! She has gone, and taken my little +Davie with her." + +"Just what I expected." + +"Just what you drove her to." + +"Has that black-a-visored dandy staying at the Oliphants' gone with +her?" + +"Damnation, no! Her father and mother went with her." + +"She says so, no doubt. Do you believe her?" + +"Yes." + +"Weel, I'm glad she's off and awa'. We'll hae a bit o' peace now." + +"My heart is bleeding, bursting; I cannot listen to you." + +"Such parfect nonsense! You ought to be thanksgiving. Who broke that +vase to smithereens?" + +"I did." + +"It cost twenty guineas." + +"I don't care a tinker's curse, if it cost a hundred guineas." He walked +to the mantlepiece and flung down on the marble hearth a valuable piece +of Worcester. + +"My God, Robert! Have you lost your senses?" + +"I have lost my wife and child." + +"Good riddance of baith o' them." + +"How dare you?" + +"Dinna say 'dare' to me." + +"Go away! Go instanter!" + +"You will go first. I'll not leave you alane." + +"If you don't go, I will call McNab and Jepson, and they will help you +to your own room. Do you hear me?" + +"Robert Campbell, go to your decent bed and sleep, and behave yourself." + +"My God, woman!" + +"I am your mother." + +"God pity me! I can't throw you down, but----" then he lifted a white +marble clock, and let it crash among the broken china. "Out of here!" he +screamed. His usually deep, strong voice had been rising with every word +he spoke, and his last order was given in a mad _alto_ which terrified +the woman browbeating him. It was not Robert's voice; its shrill shriek +was the cry of extremity or insanity. She fled upstairs to McNab's room. + +"Waken! waken! McNab," she cried. "Your master has lost his senses. Run +for Dr. Fleming. Make him come back wi' you." + +"What hae ye been doing to the poor man?" she asked sleepily as she put +on her shoes. + +"Nothing, nothing at all. Just advising him. It is that English +cutty--she----" + +"Meaning Mrs. Robert Campbell?" + +"Call her what you like. It is her, it is her! She has taken the bairn +and gone." + +"Gone?" + +"Left her husband forever. Be in a hurry, woman. Don't you hear the man +raving like a wild beast?" + +He was not raving when McNab looked at him in passing. He was lying on +the sofa perfectly still, with his hands clasped above his head. So the +doctor found him a quarter-of-an-hour later. "You have had a great +shock, Campbell," he said. + +"A shot in the backbone, doctor. My wife has left me, and taken my son +with her." + +"I know! But were you not expecting her to do so?" + +"No, no! Why should I?" + +"How much longer did you think your wife could bear--what she had to +bear? Come, come, you must look at this trial like a sensible man! I +suppose you want to find her?" + +"It is all I shall live for." + +"Then you must sleep. I will go with you to your room, and give you a +sedative. You must sleep, and get yourself together. Then you will have +to make your face iron and brass, for all you will have to meet--advice +and pity, blame and sympathy, but you will carry your cup of sorrow +without spilling it o'er everybody you meet--or I don't know you. What +made you lose your grip to-night?" + +"Necessity, doctor. I had to, or----" + +"I know." + +"One towering rage was better than daily and hourly disputing. The +subject is buried now, between my family and myself. It was a +necessity." + +"Ay, ay, and when Necessity calls, none shall dare 'bring to _her_ feet +excuse or prayer.' Your wife's flight was a necessity also. Keep that in +your mind. You are sleepy, I see; don't look at the newspapers till the +wonder is over." + +The newspapers easily got hold of the story, and each related the +circumstance in its own way. Some plainly said domestic misery had +driven the ill-used lady to flight; others spoke of her great beauty and +wonderful voice, and made suspicious allusions to the temptations always +ready to assail beauty and genius. None of them omitted the world-weary +taunt of the mother-in-law, and some very broad aspersions were made on +Mrs. Campbell's well-known impossible temper, and her hatred of all +matrimonial intrusions into her family. The story of her eldest son's +unsatisfactory marriage was recalled, his banishment and exile and +supposed death. Christina's flight from her rich, titled lover to the +poor man she preferred added a romantic touch; and the final tragedy of +the disappearance of Robert Campbell's wife and son seemed to the +majority proof positive that the trouble-making element was in the +Campbell family, and rested in the hard, proud, scornful disposition of +the mother, and mother-in-law. There was not a single paper that did not +take a special delight in blaming Mrs. Traquair Campbell, but all, +without exception, praised extravagantly the beauty, the sweet nature, +and the genius of her wronged and terrorized daughter-in-law. + +Robert Campbell took no notice of anything, that either the newspapers +or his mother said. One day Isabel showed him a remark concerning "the +unhappy life of that unfortunate gentleman, the late amiable Traquair +Campbell, Esq." "You ought to stop such shameful allusions, Robert," +she said, "they make mother furious." + +He looked at her with eyes sad and suffering, and answered: "Neither you +nor I, Isabel, can gainsay those words. They describe only too truly our +father's position. He was amiable, and he was unhappy." + +"But, Robert, the insinuation is, that mother was to blame for our +father's unhappiness." + +"She was. Such accusations are best unanswered. If we do not talk life +into them, they will die in a few days." + +To those who did not know Robert Campbell, he seemed at this time +indifferent and unfeeling. In reality he was consumed by the two +passions that had taken possession of him--the finding of his wife and +son, and the making of money to keep up the search for them. He spent +his days at the works, his evenings were devoted to interviewing his +detectives, writing them instructions, or reading their reports. +Shabby-looking men, in various disguises, haunted the hall and library +of Traquair House, and every single one of them gave Mrs. Campbell a +fresh and separate attack of anger. They were naturally against her, +they believed everything wrong said of her, they talked slyly to the +servants, and would scarcely answer her questions; they trespassed on +her rights, and disobeyed her orders; and if she made a complaint of +their behavior to her son, he looked at her indignantly and walked +silently away. Speech, which had been her great weapon, and her great +enjoyment, lost its power against the smouldering anger in her son's +heart, and the speechless insolence of his "spying men." + +Very soon after his sorrow had found him out he locked every drawer and +closet in the rooms that had been Theodora's. It was a necessary action, +but he had a bitter heartache in its performance. The carefully folded +garments, with their faint scent of lavender, held so many memories of +the woman he longed to see. The knots of pale ribbons, the neckwear of +soft lace! Oh, how could such things hurt him so cruelly? In one drawer +of her desk he found the stationery she had begged her own money to buy. +She had not even taken the postage stamps. That circumstance set him +thinking. She was leaving England, or she would have taken the +stamps--perhaps not--they might have been left for the very purpose of +inducing this belief. Who could tell? + +Meantime nothing in the life of Traquair House changed or stopped, +because Robert Campbell's life had been snapped into two parts. Mrs. +Campbell soon recovered her pride and self-confidence. She told all her +callers she "had received measureless sympathy, and as for her enemies, +and what they said, she just washed her hands of them--poor, beggarly +scribblers, and such like." + +Isabel's behavior was a nearer and more constant annoyance. She spent +the most of her time in her own room with maps and guidebooks and +writing, and the pleasure she derived from these sources was a pleasure +inconceivable to her mother. "You are past reckoning with, Isabel," she +said fretfully one day, "what on earth are you busy about?" + +"I am planning routes of travel, mother, putting down every place to +stop at, what hotel to go to, what is worth seeing, and so on. I have +four routes laid out already. I am hoping some day, when I have made all +clear, you will go with me." + +"Me! Me go with you! Not while I have one of my five senses left me." + +"I shall surely go some day. I might have been travelling ere now, but I +disliked to leave you alone, after this trouble about Dora." + +"There is no trouble about Dora, none at all. The running away o' the +creature is a great satisfaction to me. I hate both her and her child." + +"Robert is breaking his heart about them." + +"And neglecting his business, and spending more money than he is making, +looking for them. I might break my heart, too, but thanks be! I have +more sense. Did I tell you the Crawford girls are coming to stay a week +or two? I thought they would be a bit company to you. I suppose they can +have the room next yours." + +"Christina's room! Oh, mother, I wish you would put them somewhere else. +You have a spare room." + +"It is o'er near my own room. And they are apt to come home at night +full o' chat and giggle, and get me wakened up and maybe put by all +sleep for that night. What is wrong with the room next yours?" + +"I don't like any one using Christina's room--and they will keep me +awake." + +"Nobody takes the least thought for my comfort." + +"Why did you ask the Crawfords? You know Robert hates them." + +"Robert is forgetting how to behave decently. He will at least have to +be civil to the Crawfords, and that is a thing he has ceased to be +either to you or me." + +"Robert and I understand each other. He gives me a look, and I give him +one. We do not require to speak." + +"I wonder how I ever came to breed such unfeeling, unsocial children. If +I get 'yes' or 'no' from your brother now, it is the whole of his +conversation; and as for yourself, Isabel, you are at that wearisome +reading or writing the livelong day. I'll need the Crawfords, or some +one, to talk to me, or I'll forget how to speak. Now where will I sleep +them?" + +"I suppose in poor Christina's room." + +"Poor Christina! Yes, indeed! I have no manner o' doubt it is 'poor +Christina' by this time." + +"Mother! mother! do not spae sorrow to your own child. I can't bear it. +I think she is very happy indeed. If she was not, she would have sent me +word. It is poor Isabel, and it is happy Christina." + +"Your way be it." + +The next day the Crawfords came, and were installed in Christina's room. +Mrs. Campbell was in one of her gayest moods, and she said to Isabel: "I +am not going to live in a Trappist monastery, because Robert is too +sulky to open his mouth to me. I'll be glad to hear the girls clacking +and chattering, and whiles laughing a bit. God knows, we need not make +life any gloomier than it is." + +For two or three days, the Crawfords had the run of the house. Robert +went away, "on another wild goose chase" his mother said, just before +they arrived; and his mother's words were evidently true, for he came +home with every sign of disappointment about him. He looked so unhappy, +that Isabel, meeting him in the hall, said: "I am sorry, brother, very +sorry." + +"I know you are," he answered. "It was a false hope--nothing in it." + +"I would stop looking." + +"You are right. I will give it up." + +He went into the dining-room with Isabel, said good-evening to his +mother, and bowed civilly to her guests. The dinner proceeded in a +polite, noiseless manner, until the end of the second course. Then +Robert lifted his eyes, and they fell upon Jean Crawford's hand. The +next moment he had risen and was at her side. + +"Give me the ring upon your right hand," he said in a voice that held as +much passion as a voice could hold and be intelligible. + +"Why, Cousin Robert!" + +"I want that ring!" + +"Aunt Margaret said----" + +"Give me the ring. It is not yours. How dare you wear it?" + +"I was bringing it back! Oh, Aunt Margaret!" + +"Robert, I am ashamed of you!" + +"Mother, I want Theodora's ring--the ring stolen from my wife years ago. +I must have it--I must, I must!" + +"Don't cry, Jean. Give him his ring. I'll give you a far handsomer one." + +Then the woman threw it down on the table, and Robert lifted it and left +the room. + +Isabel sat until the tearful, protesting meal was over, and then she did +the most remarkable thing--she went to her brother. He was sitting +looking at the ring, recalling its history. He remembered going into +Kendal one Saturday night, just after its receipt, and memory showed him +again Theodora's delight and excitement, her wonder over its beauty, and +her pride in her pupils' affection. He could see her lovely face, her +shining eyes, he could feel her soft kiss, and the caress of her hand in +his. Oh, what a miracle of love and beauty she was to him that night! He +told Isabel all about it, and then he spoke of its theft, and of his +frequent promises and failures to recover it for her. + +"But, brother," said Isabel, "you have now quite unexpectedly got it +back. It is a good omen. Some day, when you are not looking for such a +thing, you will get its owner back, you will put it on her finger. I +feel sure of it." + +"I was a brute, Isabel." + +"You were a coward. You were afraid of mother." + +"No man ever had so many opportunities for happiness as Theodora offered +me. I scorned them all. Why was I so blind, so unjust, so cruel? I am +miserable, and deserve to be miserable. We can go to hell before we die, +Isabel." + +"Yes, we can, but we send ourselves there. 'If I make my bed in hell,' +said the great seer and singer. It is always _I_ that makes that bed, +never God, never any other human being." And it was Robert Campbell, he +himself, and no other, who had made his bed in that forlorn circle of +hell, where men who have lost their Great Opportunity, weep and wail +over their forfeited happiness. Poor Isabel, she remembered, and longed +to remind her brother, that even there God was with him, waiting to be +gracious, ready to help! But she was too cowardly, she did not like to +give religious advice; she was only a woman--he would wonder at her. So +she went away, and did not deliver the gracious message, and felt poor +and mean because of her fear and her faithlessness. + +This conversation, however, made a decided change in Robert Campbell's +life. It had always been believed by the family, that Isabel, unknown to +herself, had a certain occult, prophesying power; frequently she had +proved that with her insight was foresight. So, though Robert said +nothing to her when she told him the getting back of the ring was a good +omen, he believed her and derived a singular peace and confidence from +the prediction. At that very hour, he virtually put a stop to all +inquiries, and to all search; he resolved to leave to those behind him +the bringing back of his wife, and their reconciliation. + +Carrying out this resolve compelled him to take account of the money he +had spent in the quest for Theodora and his son, and the total gave him +a shock. It had been an absolutely fruitless waste of money, and he had +a fiery impetuous determination to restore to his estate the full +amount. To this object he devoted himself, and if a man is willing to +lose his heart and soul in money-making, he is sure to succeed. + +So the weeks and the months passed, and he turned himself, body and +soul, into gold and tried to forget. The loss of his wife and child +became a something that had happened long ago--an event sorrowful, and +far off. For there was nothing to keep their memory alive. No one +mentioned their names, and the very rooms they had inhabited, had lost +all remembrance of them. They were simply empty rooms now, for every +particle of the lovely and loving lives that had once informed them, had +been withdrawn. + +Nearly two years had passed since Christina married, nearly as long +since Theodora and David disappeared, and the big, silent Traquair House +was a desolate place. Mrs. Campbell had no one but her servants to +dispute with, for though Isabel's seclusion was constantly more marked, +Robert would not listen to a word against his sister. She had been sorry +for him, and forespoken good for him; he stood staunchly by all she did. + +"Do you know that she is going away this spring, into all sorts of wild +and savage countries, and among pagans and papists, and worse--if there +is worse; with nothing but a woman nearly as old as myself to lean on. I +wonder at your allowing such nonsense." + +"Isabel knows what she is doing. She is going with Lady Mary Grafton. +They will have their maids, and a first-class courier. I think she is +doing right." + +"And I shall be left here, all alone?" + +"Do you count me a nonentity?" + +"You are very near it, as far as I am concerned." + +"I am alone, too. Will you remember that? You know whose fault it is." +Then he rose and left her, and Mrs. Campbell was conscious of a secret +wish that the good old quarrelsome days would come back, even though it +were Theodora and David who brought them. + +A few days after this conversation Robert had business in the city, and +after it was finished, he walked leisurely down Buchanan Street. It was +a fine spring morning, and there was a glint of sunshine tempering the +fresh west breeze. Passing McLaren's, he saw a lady get out of a cab, +and go into the shop. He followed her, and gently laid his hand on her +shoulder, saying: + +"Christina, sister!" + +"Oh, Robert, Robert!" and she laughed, and cried, and clasped his hands. + +"Come with me to my club," he said, "and we will have lunch and a good +talk. You must have a deal to tell me." + +"I have, I have! My cab is at the door. Will it do for you? You used to +hate cabs." She laughed again and her laugh went to his heart, so he +petted her hand, and said she was looking white and thin, and what was +the matter? + +"I had a little daughter only six weeks ago, the sweetest darling you +ever saw, Robert. And I have a beautiful wee laddie, called +Robert--called after you--he is nearly a year old." + +"Then I must go with you and see my namesake." + +"Do you really mean that?" + +"I intend to give you this afternoon." + +"I am so glad--so happy." + +Then they were at the Club House, and Robert took her to a pleasant +parlor and ordered a royal lunch, and a bottle of wine. + +"We must drink the little chap's health," he said. "And now tell me, +Christina, are you happy?" + +"Yes, I am happy. I have some little anxieties about Jamie, but love +makes all easy--and Jamie loves me and the children, and does his best +for us. A man cannot do more than that, can he?" + +"Have you ever regretted your treatment of Sir Thomas Wynton?" + +"Never once! Wynton treated me handsomely, but you see, _I loved Jamie_. +You understand, Robert?" + +"Yes." + +"I heard about Theodora, of course. It was hard on you, but I do not +blame Theodora. Since I was a mother, I have wondered she bore David's +treatment as long as she did. I would not." + +When lunch was over, they drove to Christina's home, and Robert laughed +at its location. "Why, you are barely a mile from Traquair House," he +said. "How was it we never found you out?" + +"Perhaps you did not care about finding me out." + +"Perhaps. Yet I know Isabel never went out without looking for you, and +she has put many advertisements in the papers." + +"Well, I was neither lost nor stolen, Robert, so I never read +advertisements." She laughed in her old mocking way. "But I longed for +Isabel, and have hard work to keep away from her." + +There was just time for Robert to see his namesake, and give him a gold +token, and admire the baby in its mother's arms, and the mother with the +baby in her arms, when there was the sound of a latch-key in the door, +and then a gay whistle. "Here comes Jamie," cried Christina, all her +face aglow with love and expectation. Jamie was a personality you felt +as soon as he entered the house. Robert looked anxiously for his +appearance; but he was not prepared for the young man who entered. He +was so handsome. Not Robert Burns himself had a more winning face, or +more charming manners. He came into the room laughing, and when he saw +Robert, went straight to him with outstretched hand. "Glad to see you, +Campbell," he said heartily, and Robert felt he was glad. "You will take +dinner with us?" he asked, and Robert said he would. Then he brought +cigars, and began to discuss with Robert a subject which was at that +time very interesting to the city. Robert found him clever and amusing, +and he had a way of illustrating all his points with stories so apt, and +so amusing, you felt sure he invented them as needed. + +They had a modest, cheerful dinner, after which Jamie played the fiddle +and sang as Robert had never dreamed it was possible to fiddle and sing; +and he fell completely under the man's charm. For he made fiddle strings +of Robert's heart strings, with his wild Gathering Calls, his National +Songs, and Strathspeys. It was impossible not to love the man, and +whatever liking and admiration Robert Campbell had to give, he gave +unresistingly that night to James Rathey. He went away reluctantly, +though he had stayed some time after dinner, and when he clasped the +beautiful hand of the violinist he held it a moment, and said: "You have +made me happy for a few hours. I thank you! I shall not forget." + +All the way home he was revolving a plan in his mind, which he was +resolved to bring to perfection. With this object in view, he looked +into the dining-room when he reached home, hoping to find Isabel there. +But Mrs. Campbell was sitting alone with a newspaper in her hand. She +looked bored and forsaken, and he was sorry for her. "Where is Isabel?" +he asked. + +"Where she always is, except at eating-times--in her room." + +"I want to see her." + +"Will not your mother do?" + +"Not just yet. I may want you in a short time." + +"And then I may not come. You are going to ask Isabel, whether it is +prudent to tell me something, or not." + +"Will you let Isabel know, or shall I send McNab?" + +"I will tell her myself." + +Then Robert went to his own parlor, and in a few minutes Isabel came to +him. He took her hand, and seated her at his side. "Isabel," he said, "I +have found Christina. I have had lunch and dinner with her. I have met +James Rathey." + +"Oh, Robert!" + +"He is the most delightful of men. They are as happy as they can be." + +Then Isabel began to cry softly. "Oh, Robert, Robert! Such good news! +Tell me all about them!" she exclaimed. And Robert told her all that +Christina had said, and all that Jamie had said. He described +Christina's and Rathey's appearance, he told her about the babies, he +even made a few remarks about the floor and the furniture. + +"I must go and see her the first thing in the morning, Robert." + +"How soon will you start on your travels, Isabel?" + +"In ten days, if Lady Mary is better." + +"Is she sick?" + +"I heard this morning she had an attack of measles--very peculiar in a +woman of her age." + +"I don't know, I'm sure. What I want is, that Christina should +come into my rooms. I am going to give her all the furniture in +them--everything-everything except some clothing. While you are away, +she will be company for mother, who seems pitifully lonely." + +"That is mother's fault, Robert. These empty rooms ought to be----" + +"I know. There is no use speaking of it. All that hope is over. Do you +think you can persuade Christina to come home?" + +"She would have some submissions to make to mother--will she make them?" + +"I think so. Go and ask her." + +"I will see her in the morning." + +In the morning there was a joyful meeting between the sisters, and +Christina was delighted with Robert's plan. She had often longed for the +large rooms, the wide stairways and corridors of Traquair House. She +hated small rooms, and common stairs, and cabs, and remembered longingly +the days when the Campbell carriage was at her beck and call. She liked +plenty of servants, and her own maid and nurse would be added to the +staff in Traquair House. She would be relieved of all housekeeping +cares, and of the oversight of the table, a duty she particularly +disliked. Besides these considerations, she could again take her proper +place in society. Robert would be certain to do something for Jamie, and +then she would have her income for dress and social demands. + +"It will be delightful, Isabel," she said. "Just what I wish, and Jamie +will win round mother directly--he has that way with all women." + +"Then come home about five this afternoon, and bring the babies with +you, especially Margaret." + +"Isabel, you mean?" + +"No, no! You must call her Margaret. As Margaret she will open mother's +heart to you." + +About five that afternoon, Mrs. Campbell came into the big, empty +dining-room. She was dressed for dinner, but there were no signs of the +meal. She looked cross and forlorn, and began to grumble to herself, as +she impatiently stirred the fire into a blaze. "It is too bad of +Isabel," she muttered; "she cares for nothing but her own way. I am left +to look after everything--house, callers, what not--and there is a ring +at the door now! I hope Jepson heard it." + +The next moment the room door was thrown open, and Christina, in a +flurry of beautiful silk and fur, fell on her knees by her mother's +side. She clasped her mother's hands in her own, and said softly: +"Forgive Christina, mother. I have brought my little Margaret for your +blessing. Oh, yes, you will bless her. And Christina is really sorry, +and longs so much for her mother and her home--dear mother, forgive me?" + +At the beginning of her entreaty, Mrs. Campbell had tried to take her +hands from between her daughter's, but at the close they lay passive +until she raised one, stroked Christina's face, and bid her rise. Then +Christina took the little child, and laid it in its grandmother's arms, +saying: + +"Little Margaret asks you to forgive and love us, mother,"--and little +Margaret won the day. + +"May I stay dinner, mother, and talk to you?" + +"Go up to your own room, and take off your hat and wrapping. You may +leave the bairns with me. Yon is a bonnie wee lad, what is his name?" + +"Robert Traquair." + +"A wise like name! Bring him here, lassie--and what is your name?" + +"Janet, ma'am." + +"Weel, Janet, you may now take the boy-bairn to the kitchen, and show +him to Mistress McNab, and tell her she will hae company to provide for. +I'll keep the bit lassie mysel', till her mother is ready for her." + +At six o'clock, as arranged, Robert came home and joined his mother and +sisters, and they were all talking happily together, when Jamie Rathey +entered. Robert met him with a hearty welcome, and Jepson coming in at +that moment, to superintend the setting of the table, was told by Robert +to lay service for two extra. And as Christina predicted, when the +evening was over Jamie had fairly conquered the usually impossible Mrs. +Campbell. He had waited on his mother-in-law as if he was her lover, he +had told pleasant stories, and sang merry songs, and above all assured +her, she was "the only mother he knew, who could bring up daughters able +to make the state of marriage an earthly Paradise"; and with a charming +smile he wished "that she had fifty daughters, so that Glasgow might +boast of fifty perfect wives, and happy husbands." + +Robert watched him, and listened to him, and wondered that a man of his +tact and social genius, did not get on in the world; and after the +Ratheys and their children had departed he said: "Christina has not done +as badly as we believed, mother. What do you think of James?" + +"The man is well enough--as a man," she answered with a sudden cooling +of heart temperature, "but what about his capacities? Is he a good +provider? Can he get hold of the wherewithal for a family's +necessities?" + +"He is on the Roll of Attorneys now, but it is hard for a young man to +get a law business--it takes time. He is sure to make his mark, but I do +not suppose he makes his office rent yet." + +"I thought so." + +"He is clever." + +"Very. And if he is as clever with his fiddle as his tongue, I would be +astonished if he made office rent." + +"Why?" + +"Because God has given to some men wisdom and understanding, and to +other men He has given the art o' playing on the fiddle. But if a man is +wanting law, he does not want a song, and he is naturally suspicious of +the lawyer who mixes the two." + +"I shall get him installed as attorney on some of the civic boards, and +that will give him an opportunity to show himself as a lawyer. And, +mother, I have given Christina the use of my rooms, and the furniture is +hers now. I have given her it just as it stands--everything, except some +clothing. When Isabel goes away, I thought you would be very lonely, and +Christina and the babies will make things more cheerful for you." + +"I might have been asked, if it would be agreeable?" + +"I only met Christina yesterday. I went home with her, and I want her to +have a better home--her old home, and you to look after her." + +"Well, a mother's duty never ends, and I was never one to shirk duty. +The rooms are all right--but as for the cooking and the kitchen----" + +"_Tut, tut_, mother! You will look after the table as you have always +done." + +"There will be four more adults to provide for, not to speak o' the +bairns' feeding and washing." + +"James is able to pay whatever you think right. I will insure that to +you. And, mother, it will be a joy to see you busy about the house +again, ordering the meals, and keeping the servant girls up to mark." + +"I always was a busy woman, Robert, and I will be thankful to have my +hands full again. I am sure the thought o' Christina's playing and +singing, and her goings out and in, and the visitors she will have, and +the news coming with them, and the children, special the bit lassie wi' +her soft black een, and her wonderfu' resemblance to mysel'--all these +things, sure enough, will make the old house a deal more pleasant. But +where will you keep yourself?" + +"At my club. I have a room there anyway, and I shall always take my +breakfast in it. Sometimes, I will come here for dinner, but Jamie will +be the man of the house, and a better master than I have ever been--he +will have more time to help you, mother." + +These conditions, carefully considered and elaborated, were carried out +with all the haste possible. But haste is not in a Scotchwoman's +faculty. She can do many things well, but she must carefully prepare for +their doing, and then move with care and caution. + +A few days after this arrangement, Mrs. Campbell and Christina went out +together to do some shopping found necessary for it. Isabel remained at +home to answer a letter from the Grafton family. This letter gave her +great anxiety; it said: "Lady Mary's illness had become more serious +than was at first anticipated, and there was almost a certainty that she +would not be able to travel at the time fixed; consequently, they would +leave to Miss Campbell the option of changing the date, or of +cancelling the engagement, as seemed best for her own pleasure and +interest." + +Poor Isabel was much troubled at this disappointment. She feared all was +going wrong with her plans, and the thought of the coming invasion with +the noise of the children, and the joyous hilarity of Christina and her +husband, and her mother's renewed importance, was not, in her present +mood of disappointment and uncertainty, a pleasant anticipation. She sat +silent and motionless, her eyes fixed on the neatly folded routes she +had prepared. And her heart sank low, and a few tears gathered slowly +and remained unshed. "All my desires are doomed," she thought +sorrowfully. "Nothing I plan comes to pass. How unfortunate I am!" + +Then there was a tap at her door, and a maid told her there was a +visitor. She rose despondingly, took the card, threw it on the table, +and went slowly to the drawing-room. Before she had quite opened the +door, she heard hurrying steps coming to meet her, and the next moment +Sir Thomas Wynton was holding her hands, and trying to tell her how +happy he was to see her again. + +She had an instantaneous sense of hope and relief, and they were soon +heart and soul in the conversation they both enjoyed. Very soon she went +for the routes she had prepared, and showed them to the baronet, who was +amazed and delighted: + +"I never saw anything so beautifully and carefully done," he exclaimed, +"and when do you start on Route No. 1.? I see it takes in Russia, +Sweden, and Norway, and home by the Netherlands and Orkneys. Why, I +never thought of that! How good, how excellent an idea." + +"I intended leaving Glasgow in nine days, but Lady Mary Grafton, whose +party I was to join, is ill with measles." + +"Good gracious! Measles! I never heard of such a thing, what is the +woman up to? She is not a baby or a schoolgirl, is she?" + +"She is forty-four years old." + +"Oh! And measles? How absurd! What will you do?" + +"I was trying to decide, when you came. Can you help me? If you can, I +shall be grateful. If I can find no one to go with me, I shall go +alone." + +"Nonsense, impossible! May I call early to-morrow morning?" + +"Ten o'clock if you wish." + +Then he thanked her for the sensible, interesting letters she had +written him. They were "a kind of little newspaper," he said, "and I +counted those days happy and fortunate on which I received one. I have +brought you some laces. I noticed that you always wore pretty lace, and +so whenever I was at a place where lace was made, I got a little for +you." + +"Oh, Sir Thomas!" + +"And to-morrow morning, I hope I will be able to tell you something +about a companion for your journey. Do you know Mrs. Foster?" + +"No. I have heard of her only." + +He seemed on the point of going, but did not go until Mrs. Campbell +came home. Then he stayed to lunch, and sat chatting with the two ladies +until three o'clock. Even then he seemed reluctant to go away. + +"Why should he come here at ten o'clock in the morning?" asked Mrs. +Campbell, when Sir Thomas had finally gone away. + +"Lady Mary is too ill to travel. Sir Thomas thinks he can get me a +proper companion. If not, mother, I shall go alone. I will not let +anything disappoint me again." + +"You will be talked of from Dan to Beersheba." + +"I shall be doing nothing wrong, and I shall be happy. Let them talk." + +In the morning Sir Thomas was in the drawing-room at ten o'clock, and +Isabel, in a pretty lavender lawn gown, went with a smile to meet him. +He looked at her with delight, and said: "I have found you a +companion--one that will take the greatest care of you. It is myself. I +will trust you with no one else." + +"But, Sir Thomas," and she attempted to draw her hand out of his. + +"No, no," he said, clasping it still tighter. "Sit here by my side, and +listen to what I say. I love you dearly, wisely, with all my heart. I +will make you Lady Wynton to-morrow, if you desire it, and you and +I--you and I--will take all those excellently planned journeys together. +We will travel slowly and comfortably, luxuriously when we can; we will +see everything worth seeing. We will take a long, long honeymoon trip, +all over the world. Say 'yes,' Isabel. May I call you Isabel?" + +"Yes." + +"My Isabel." + +"I am your sincere friend." + +"My wife! I want you for my wife." + +"A wedding means a great deal of trouble. It would keep me back." + +"Not an hour. We will meet in Dr. Robertson's parlor, each with a friend +or two. My carriage will be at his door, and as soon as the ceremony is +over, we will drive to the railway station, and take a train for London, +be in London for dinner, and ready next day to start Tour No. 1, first +landing-place St. Petersburg; eh, dear? Say yes, say yes, Isabel. _Do!_" + +And how could Isabel say anything but "yes"? It was the dream of her +life coming true. + +"This is Wednesday," he continued joyfully, "what do you say to next +Monday? Can you be ready for Monday?" + +"I can be ready by Monday, Sir Thomas." + +"We will drop the 'Sir,' my dear, forever. Now, I will go and arrange +with Dr. Robertson for the ceremony at nine o'clock, Monday morning, and +in the meantime, see your brother about the necessary business matters, +and put all right at Wynton village for at least a year's stay. For +after London, we will follow the route you laid out--nothing could be +better." + +And as this was one of those destined marriages, that may be delayed +but cannot be prevented, every particular relating to it went as +desired. Isabel in a pretty travelling suit, with her mother and +brother, was at Dr. Robertson's at nine o'clock on the set Monday +morning, and found Sir Thomas Wynton and his brother-in-law and sister, +Lord and Lady Morpeth, waiting for them. It was a momentous interval for +two of the party, but soon passed; for in twenty minutes, Isabel +received the congratulations due to her as Lady Wynton, and then amid +smiles and good wishes she began with her husband their long wedding +trip, of all over the world. + +"It is the last of my Isabel," said Mrs. Campbell between smiles and +tears. + +"No," answered Robert, "it is the beginning of Isabel. When she comes +back we shall hardly know her. It is a real marriage; they will improve +each other," and he turned away with a sigh. + +Mrs. Campbell had really no occasion for tears. She was not inclined to +weep, even when weeping would have been in order, and Isabel had not +lately been notable, either as a help or a comfort, so that her mother +felt it no trial to exchange her presence, for the pleasure of talking +of her dear daughter, Lady Wynton, her journeyings and her experiences. +There was also the returning home of Christina, the rearranging of +Robert's rooms for her and her family, their moving into them and +settlement, and these things engaged her warmest interest. She felt +indeed that as regarded Robert's rooms falling to Christina's lot, she +owed Providence a handsome acknowledgment. They had been prepared at an +extravagant cost for an Englishwoman and a stranger, but had come, as it +were, naturally, to her own daughter. But then she said: "Providence had +always looked after the Campbells, and it was not likely that in this +flagrant case Providence would forget its duty." + +She was busy from morning to night until she had the new family under +the same roof with her, and Robert also appeared to take a great +interest in the change. He was very generous to his sister, and gave her +freely all the beautiful furniture and ornaments he had bought for +Theodora, even the piano would know her touch no more. All the books, +music, and pretty ornaments and embroideries she had accumulated during +her miserable six years of married life, she left behind her; and all +were given to Christina. Christina had no reluctance in appropriating +them. She began her new tenure in Traquair House by taking everything +she could get, likely to add to her comfort or pleasure. + +Robert was a great deal about the house while the change was in +progress, afterward his visits decreased, until they settled into the +Sunday dinner with his family. No one complained of his absence. +Christina and Rathey introduced a new life--a life of constant visiting, +gaiety, and entertaining; and Mrs. Campbell accepted it without dissent. +Jamie Rathey indeed ruled her more absolutely than he ruled his wife. +And she petted him, as she had never petted her own sons--ordered +luxuries for his eating, gave him presents, paid his bills, and excused +all his extravagances. + +"Between Jamie and little Margaret, I am not my own woman at all," she +admitted, and as time went on, it was difficult to say which of these +two treated her with the most tyrannical affection. + +Two erroneous conclusions are likely to be formed concerning Robert +Campbell on this unlooked for transformation of life in Traquair +House--one, that he had suddenly developed a most unusual generosity, +and the other, that he had forgotten his wife, and become resigned to +her loss. Neither of these conclusions would be correct. Few, indeed, of +our actions ring true through all their depths, and Robert's generosity +to his sister arose from a desire to make his own life more bearable. +Those lonely, lifeless, deserted rooms, over which he had spent so much +love and gold filled him with a terror he hated to face. If Christina +would bring into them life and song, and the voices of children, perhaps +their haunting misery might die out of his heart. He could not prevent +Isabel leaving home, but he did dread the house with no one but his +mother and himself in it. So when Christina stepped into both dilemmas, +with a comfortable solution, he felt grateful to her, and it was +pleasant to give her things, and pleasant to help Jamie Rathey, and to +see the dark, silent house alive with mirth and company, and the prattle +of little children. + +But there was another Robert that none of these things touched, who in +fact would neither see them, nor listen to them. This Robert sat hours +motionless and speechless, dreaming of the woman he still loved--longing +for her with heart-breaking accusations and remorse. _Oh, to hear from +her! Oh, to see her_, if but for a moment! Would the hour for their +reconciliation never, never come? This was the faithful, bitter cry of +his best nature, as raking in the ashes of memory, he made of his lost +wife a thousand lovely and sorrowful pictures. And this Robert Campbell, +no one but Robert's angels, and Robert's God knew. + +To the world in general he seemed to be harder than ever, indifferent to +all interests but money-making, stripped even of his old time gloss and +politeness, yielding only when necessary to get his own way. His +kindness to Christina had been in the main kindness to himself, and the +ready help given to Jamie Rathey was the result of several selfish +reasons, united with that singular liking which men occasionally feel +for some other man gifted as they never can be--an affection doubtless +dating from some life anterior to this life. With these exceptions, +Robert Campbell was the old Robert Campbell, a little older, and a +little rougher, and the national emblem of the repellent _Thistle_, with +its churlish command, "_Hands off!_" represented him very fairly. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +ROBERT CAMPBELL GOES WOOING + + +It will not now be difficult for any one to construct in their +imagination the life in Traquair House for the next two years. But at +the end of that time, a great change was approaching, and the bringer of +it was Isabel, Lady Wynton. She was sitting at her husband's side one +afternoon, in the office or foyer of a large hotel in San Francisco. Sir +Thomas was smoking and watching with her the constant kaleidoscope of +humanity passing in and out. They were not talking, but there was a +thorough, though silent sympathy between them. Sometimes Sir Thomas +looked at her with an admiring glance, which she answered with a smile, +or a move of her chair closer to him; but her attitude was that of a +woman silently interested and satisfied. It was the old Isabel in a +repose, informed, vigilant, and conscious of a perfect communion of +feeling. + +Suddenly her whole appearance changed. She became eager and watchful, +and her personality appeared to be on the tiptoe of expectation. With +her eyes she followed every movement of a beautiful young woman attended +by a scholarly-looking man, nearing sixty years of age. The couple were +quickly joined by a much younger man, they walked with him to the main +entrance, stood talking a few minutes, and then bid him farewell. The +woman and older man then turned back into the hotel, and Lady Wynton had +a full leisurely look at them. She did not recognize the man at all, but +she was perfectly satisfied as to the identity of the woman, and she +stepped hastily forward, crying softly: + +"Theodora, Theodora! I know it is you. I have found you at last. Oh, how +glad I am, how glad I am!" + +"Isabel!" + +"And here is my husband, Dora." + +"I need no introduction, Mrs. Campbell," said Sir Thomas, with smiling +courtesy. "I remember you perfectly, though you have been growing +younger, instead of older." + +Theodora quickly introduced her father, leaving him with Sir Thomas +while she and Lady Wynton went to the Wyntons' parlor for conversation. +"I must write Robert at once," said Lady Wynton. "It will be such a +wonderful thing to him, for I am sure he has given up all hope of ever +seeing you again, Dora. Two years ago he left Traquair House; he could +not endure his empty lonely rooms any longer." + +"Poor, dark, sad rooms! I try to forget them also." + +"They are not dark and empty now, Christina and her husband and babies +are living in them, and they make them lively enough, I have no doubt." + +A shadow passed over Theodora's face, and she did not speak for a few +moments. Then she asked: "What was done with the furniture and the +things I used to believe were mine?" + +"Christina wrote me that Robert had given everything in the rooms to +her." + +"How kind of him!" There was a little scorn in her voice, and she asked, +"What about my piano, and my music?" + +"Oh, Theodora, you must not feel hurt. Poor Robert! He was nearly +broken-hearted. He never expected to see you. He had spent a fortune on +detectives, who looked all over Europe for you. One night I sat with +him, and I really thought he was insane. He acted like it." + +"But he gave my piano and music away." + +"I suppose he could not bear to see them--and you had left them, you +know." + +"Isabel, he gave me that piano as a birthday gift, one week before we +were married; but then, of course, he took it back after the ceremony. +He told me once my wedding ring was his property, and that he could sell +the very hair off my head if he chose to do so." + +"He must have been in a vile temper to say such things. Legally, I +suppose he was right, but no good man ever does such things." + +"But if a woman has the ill-fortune to marry a bad man? and many women +innocently do this, then----" + +"Then what?" + +"If she has any self-respect, she emancipates herself from such a +condition of slavery." + +"Are you still angry at Robert?" + +"I never was angry at him. He was only the rock on which my love bark +struck, and went down." + +"How is David?" + +"Come home with me, and see him. We shall be home for supper, and it is +about time we were leaving." + +"Both Sir Thomas and I will come with you gladly." + +For nearly ten miles their road lay through a delightful country, and +just at the darkening ended in a plateau among some foothills. A number +of white houses were scattered over it, and towards one of these +Theodora drove her carriage. They entered an inclosure studded with +forest trees, and kept in fine order; and as they neared the dwelling, +came into a lovely garden full of all kinds of flowers and fruits. The +house was square and large, surrounded by deep piazzas, and covered to +the chimney-tops with flowering vines, chiefly with jasmine and passion +flowers. On either side of the wide hall there were cool, large parlors, +and from its centre rose the white stairway leading to the upper +rooms--and everywhere there was an indefinable sense of peace and +comfort. + +"What a beautiful home! What a heavenly place!" cried Isabel, and +Theodora answered: + +"My father bought it when we first came. We have lived here ever since. +It is beautiful. The sun shines on it, the winds blow through it, in +every room there is happiness and peace. You were asking about David," +she said in a tone of exultation, "here he comes!" and they went to the +window and watched his approach. He was riding a fine, spirited horse, +and riding like Jehu the son of Nimshi, who doubtless rode--as well as +drove--furiously. + +"How wonderfully he rides, Dora." + +"David can do anything with a horse, or a rifle, and he is so strong, +and tall, you would think him much older than he is. Come, we will go +down and have supper, and let unpleasant memories die." + +For two weeks the Wyntons stayed with Mr. Newton--two weeks of perfect +delight to them. They visited various lovely towns along the coast, they +hunted, and fished, and talked, the women of household things, and +family affairs--the two men of their college days, and sports, and +poetry; Sir Thomas quoting the Greek poets, and Mr. Newton the English, +old and new. In the evenings, Theodora played and sang, and David +recited stirring lines from "The Lady of the Lake" and other works. +Night and day followed each other so happily and so quickly, that the +week promised became two weeks, without notice or protest. + +No letter during this time had been sent to Robert. Theodora insisted on +this point. "I do not like letters, Isabel," she said. "They say too +much, or too little. When you see Robert, tell him what your eyes have +seen, and your ears heard--just the plain truth--and leave him to act on +it, as he wishes." + +"Then remember, Dora, that we are not intending to hurry home. We shall +remain a few days at Salt Lake City, Denver, St. Louis, Chicago, and of +course visit Niagara. It may be a month before we reach New York. You +must give us five or six weeks before we reach Liverpool, and so do not +lay the blame of our loitering to Robert's indifference. Be patient." + +"I have been four years without a word. You see that I am neither +impatient nor unhappy." + +"Tell me, Dora, who was that dark, handsome man you seemed so much at +home with in the hotel? I am curious about him. He appeared to be so +familiar with your father and yourself." + +"He is a neighbor. His house is about two miles from ours. The two +eldest girls you saw reading and singing with me are his daughters. I am +educating them with the three younger girls, who are the only children +of a neighbor in another direction." + +"He seemed very fond of you--I mean the man at the hotel." + +"He is a good friend. He spends much time with my father. When he bid us +good-bye, he was going to his mining property. That is the reason you +have not seen him. Had he been at home, he would have made your visit +here much pleasanter." + +"Then I think we should never have got away. What a book full I shall +have to tell Robert? I wish I was home. It will be good to see the light +come into his sad face, when I say, 'Robert, I have found Theodora!'" + +"Say nothing to influence him, one way or the other. His own heart must +urge him to seek me, or he will never find me. It is a long journey to +take, for a disappointment." + +"He will doubtless write to you at once." + +"I should take no notice of a letter." + +"Why?" + +"I have learned that a woman who lets slip the slightest respect which +is due her, invites, and perhaps deserves the contempt she gets." + +"Sir Thomas is very respectful to me, Dora." + +"And very kind and loving. And you must know that you are much handsomer +than you were before your marriage. You converse better, your manner is +dignified yet gracious, your dress is rich, and in fine taste, and the +touch of gray in your abundant black hair is exceedingly becoming to +you. You are a fortunate woman." + +"But, Dora, remember how long I waited for good fortune. I am in real +living only two years old; all the years before my marriage were blank +and dreary. I am forty years of age according to my birth date, and I +have lived two, out of the forty." + +"Thank God for the two years!" + +"I do. We both do. Sir Thomas is very religious." + +At length the Wyntons departed, and when Theodora had made her last +adieu, and watched their carriage out of sight, she turned to her +mother, who stood pale and depressed at her side. + +"I am glad the visit is over. It has been something of a trial to you, +mother--and to me also." + +"The last week I was a little weary. But father and David enjoyed it, so +it does not matter." + +"Yes, it does matter. The men in a house should not be made happy at the +cost of the women's exhaustion." + +"How soon do you expect your husband?" + +"Not for eight weeks--it may be longer, and it may be never." + +"Do you love him at all now?" + +"I love the Robert who wooed and married me, as much as ever I did; the +Robert of the last five or six years, I do not wish to see again. I have +been away from him four years, and I cannot hope that his manner of life +has improved him." + +"How has he lived?" + +"From what Isabel told me, I should say his family had full dominion +over him for two years; the result being the tearing to pieces of the +home he made for me, and the handing over to his sister everything that +was mine. The last two years he has lived a solitary life at his club, +no doubt self-indulgent, self-centred, and self-sufficient." + +"Theodora, no one but God knows anything about Robert. He would show +himself to no one--I mean his real self. Do not judge him on the partial +evidence of his sister. She would look no further than his words and +actions." + +"I wish I had heard nothing about him. I thought he was out of my life +forever." + +"Do not let the matter disturb you, until you are compelled to. _Grace +for the need_ is sure. Nowhere have I seen, _grace before the need_ +promised." + +"You are right, mother, we will go on with our lives just as if this +visit had never happened. I will neither hope nor doubt. I will do my +day's work, and leave all with God." + +So the Newton House went back to its calm routine, and Theodora taught +and wrote, and helped her mother with her housekeeping, and her father +with copying his manuscripts, and her boy with his lessons, and the days +passed into weeks, and the weeks into months, and the promise of +Robert's coming became as a dream when one awakeneth. + +Yet all was proceeding surely, if leisurely, to the appointed end. In +about eight weeks, the Wyntons arrived in London, and following their +usual habit delayed and delayed there, for a whole week before starting +for Scotland. But once at Wynton Castle, Isabel felt freed from her +promise of silence, and she wrote to Robert a few days after her return +home, the following note: + + "DEAR ROBERT:--We reached home four days ago, and found + everything in perfect order. I hope mother and Christina and + you yourself are well. I am in fine health, never was better. + When we were in California I came unexpectedly upon Theodora. + We stayed two weeks with her, very pleasant weeks, and if you + will come to Wynton as soon as convenient, we shall be glad to + see you and tell you all about your wife and child. You need + have no anxiety about them. They could not be happier. Give my + love and duty to mother, and tell Christina I have a few pretty + things for her. + + "Your loving sister, + + "ISABEL." + +Robert found this letter beside his dinner plate, and after he had taken +his soup he deliberately opened it. He knew it was Isabel's writing, and +the post-marks showed him she was at home again. He knew also that it +would contain an invitation to Wynton, and before he was sure of it, he +made a vow to himself that he would not go. + +"Sir Thomas will prose about the persons and places he has seen, and +Isabel will smile and admire him, and I shall have to be congratulatory +and say a hundred things I do not want to say. I do not care a farthing +for Sir Thomas and his partnership now, and I will not have his +patronage." Thus he talked to himself, as he opened the letter, and gave +his order for boiled mutton and caper sauce. + +When the mutton came he could not taste it. He looked dazed and shocked, +and the waiter asked: "Are you ill, sir?" + +"Yes," was the answer. "Give me a glass of wine." + +The wine did not help him, and he lifted the letter and went to his +room. There he threw himself upon the bed and lay motionless for an +hour. He was not thinking, he could not think; he was gathering his +forces physical and mental together, to enable him to overcome the shock +of Isabel's news, and decide on his future course. + +For the information which Isabel had given him in a very prosaic way had +shaken the foundations of his life, though he could not for awhile tell +whether he regarded it as welcome, or unwelcome. But as he began to +recognize its import, and its consequences, his feelings were certainly +not those of pleasure, nor even of satisfaction. He had rid himself of +all the encumbrances Theodora had left behind her. He had given his home +away and reduced the obligations to his kindred to a minimum, for a +visit once a week satisfied his mother and Christina; and if he missed a +week, no one complained or asked for the reason. At his club he was well +served, all his likes and dislikes were studied and pandered to. There +was no quarrelling at the club, no injured wife, no sick child, no +troublesome servants. He was leading a life that suited him, why should +he change it for Theodora? + +If Theodora had been in poverty and suffering, he felt sure he would +have had no hesitation, he would have hurried to her side, but a +Theodora happy, handsome, and prosperous, was a different problem. Why +had she not sent him a letter by Isabel? She must have known, that +Isabel would certainly reveal her residence, why then did she not do it +herself? "She ought to have written to me," he muttered, "it was her +duty, and until she does, I will not take any notice of Isabel's +information." + +With this determination he fell into an uneasy sleep, and lo, when he +awoke, he was in quite a different mood! Theodora, in her most +bewitching and pathetic moods, was stirring his memory, and he said +softly, yet with an eager passion: "I must go where Dora is! I must go +to her! I cannot go too quickly! I will see Isabel to-day, and get all +necessary information from her." + +He found Isabel enthusiastically ready to hasten him. She described the +Newton home--its beauty, comfort, peace, and happiness. She went into +italics about David--he was a young prince among boys of his age. He +rode wondrously, he could do anything with a rifle that a rifle was made +for, he was a good English scholar for his age, and was learning Latin +and German. She said his grandfather was his tutor, and that the two +were hardly ever apart. + +At this point Robert had a qualm of jealousy. The boy was _his_ boy, and +he ought to be with him, and not with his grandfather. He was defrauded +on every side. He said passionately, he would go for the boy, and bring +him home at any rate; and Isabel told him plainly it could not be done. +"And as for Theodora," she continued, "she looks younger and lovelier +than when you married her. You should see her in white lawn with flowers +on her breast, or in her wonderful hair; or still better, on horseback, +with David riding at her side. Oh, Robert! You never knew the lovely +Theodora of to-day." + +"If she had any lover," he said slowly, "if she had any lover, you +would have discovered that fact, Isabel?" + +"Lover! That is nonsense. Her time and interests are taken up with her +teaching, writing, and her care of her child. She is educating five +girls, daughters of wealthy men living near, and she has published one +novel, and is writing another; and she helps Mr. Newton with his +manuscripts, and Mrs. Newton with her house. She is as busy as she is +happy. We stayed two weeks with her, and I saw no one like a lover. I do +remember at the hotel where I first saw her, there was a very handsome +dark man, who seemed to be on the most friendly, even familiar terms +with both Theodora and Mr. Newton. I asked her once who the man was, and +she said he was a neighbor, and that she was educating his two +daughters. Then I asked if he was likely to call and she told me he had +gone to his mine, and that was the reason we had not seen him every day. +She said she was sorry it had so happened, because he would have made +our visit much pleasanter." + +"No doubt," he answered. "Much pleasanter, of course. Thank you, Isabel. +I owe you more than I can ever pay. I shall go to San Francisco, and see +with my own eyes how things are." + +"You will see nothing wrong, Robert. Be sure of that. Dora is as good as +she is beautiful. I did not love her when I thought her an intruder into +my home, but in her own home, she is adorable. Every one loves her." + +"I object to every one loving her. She is mine. I am going to bring her +to her own home--where she ought to be." + +He would not remain to dinner. He was in haste to reach a solitude in +which he could commune with his own heart. For Isabel's words had roused +a fiery jealousy of his wife, and he had suddenly remembered his +mother's first question when she heard of Theodora's flight: "Has she +gone with that black-a-visored dandy staying at the Oliphants'?" He had +then scornfully denied the supposition--had felt as if it was hardly +worth denying. But at this hour, it assumed an importance that tortured +him. His mother had called him black-a-visored, and Isabel had called +him dark. The two were the same man, and this conviction came with that +infallible assurance, that turns a suspicion into a truth, beyond +inquiry or doubt. + +He got back to Glasgow--he hardly knew how. He was a little astonished +to find himself there. But something, held in abeyance while he was out +of the city, returned to him the moment he felt his feet on the wet +pavements, and breathed the foggy atmosphere. He knew himself again as +Robert Campbell, and with an accented display of his personality went +into the discreet, non-observant refuge of his club. He was hungry, and +he ate; in a whirl of intense feeling, and he drank to steady himself. +Then he went to see his mother. He wanted a few words with her, about +"the black-a-visored dandy." + +He found Traquair House topsy-turvy. Christina was giving a dance and +there was no privacy anywhere, but in his mother's room. She was dressed +for the occasion, and wearing her pearl and diamond ornaments, and he +had a moment's surprise and pleasure in her appearance. + +"Christina is giving a bit dance," she said apologetically, "and the +house is at sixes and sevens. It is the way o' young things. They must +turn everything upside down. You look badly, Robert. What's wrong wi' +you?" + +"I have found Theodora." + +"No wonder you look miserable. Where is she?" + +"In California." + +"Just the place for the like o' her. It is not past my memory, Robert, +when the scum o' the whole earth was running there. She did right to go +where she belongs." + +"_Hush_, mother! The Wyntons have been staying with her for two +weeks--and they were well entertained. She has a beautiful home, Isabel +says." + +"Have you seen Isabel?" + +"For an hour or two. She sent her love to you." + +"She can keep it. If it isn't worth bringing, it isn't worth having." + +"Mother, you once spoke to me of a dark man staying at the Oliphants', +and asked if Theodora had gone away with him. What made you ask that +question?" + +"Weel, Robert, she was always flitting quiet-like between this house and +the Oliphants'; and twice he walked with her to the top o' the street, +and they were a gey long time in holding hands, and saying good-bye." + +"Why did you not tell me then?" + +"I wanted to let the cutty tak' her run, and to see how far she would +go. I had my een on her." + +"I feel sure he is living near her, in California." + +"Very close, indeed, no doubt o' that--pitying and comforting her. Why +don't you do your own pitying?" she asked scornfully. + +"I am going to California to-morrow." + +"Don't! You'll get yoursel' shot, or tarred and feathered, or maybe +lynched. Those West Americans are an unbidable lot; they are a law to +themselves, and a very bad law, generally speaking. Bide at hame, and +save your life. What for will you go seeking sorrow?" + +"I want my son. Isabel says he is a very prince among boys of his age." + +"No doubt o' it. There's enough Campbell in him to set him head and +shoulders over ordinary lads. But you send men now, that you know where +to send them, and let them get the lad away. They'll either coax or +carry him." + +"I want to see Theodora." + +"If you have a thimbleful o' sense, let her alone. Old love is a +dangerous thing to touch. She'll gie you the heartache o' the world +again, and you'll be down at her feet for comfort." + +"Did I ever down at her feet for anything?" + +"If you are tired o' freedom, and easy days, tak' yoursel' to +California. And what about the works, while you are seeking dool and +sorrow?" + +"I shall only be gone about six weeks." + +"Fiddlesticks! You are going into captivity--settle your business before +you go, and see that you don't forget your mother and sisters' bed and +board is in it." + +"I shall be back in six weeks. Good-bye, mother. Give my love to +Christina and Jamie, I will not trouble them now." + +"They are full o' their ain to-do at the present. I'll gie them your +message. Good-bye, and see you are home, ere I send after you." + +He went hastily downstairs, and could hardly believe he was walking +through Traquair House. Pretty girls in dancing dresses were constantly +passing him, young men were standing about in groups laughing and +talking, and there was the sound of fiddles tuning up in the distance. +It was all so unnatural that it affected him like the phantasmal +background of a dream. And he was suffering as he had never before +suffered in all his life, for jealousy, that brutal, overwhelming +passion, had seized him, and he was in a fire constantly growing +fiercer. Every thought he now had of Theodora fed it, and he hastened to +his club and locked himself in his room. It was clear to him, that he +must reach San Francisco by the swiftest means possible. In his +condition, he felt delay might mean severe illness, if not insanity. + +On the third morning after this determination, when he awoke he was out +of sight of land. The wind was high, and the sea rough, but he was not +sick, and the tumult of the elements suited his mood very well. He made +no friends, and his trouble had such a strong personality, that many +divined its reason. + +"He looks as if he was after a runaway wife," said one man, and his +companion answered: "I do not envy the fellow who has run away with her, +he will get no mercy from yonder husband, and as for the wife!" + +"God help her!" + +"It is Campbell of the Campbell Iron Works near Glasgow," said a third. +"I never heard that he had a wife. I shouldn't think he would care for +one. He lives only for those black, blasted furnaces. He is happy enough +among their slag and cinders, and smoke and flame. The country round +them is like Gehenna, but it suits him better than green pastures and +still waters. He isn't such a big man physically, but when he is +marching round among his workers, ordering this, and abusing that, you +would think he was ten feet high, and the men are sure of it. But +Campbell isn't a bad fellow take him by and long; he goes to Kirk +regular, and when he feels like giving, gives with both hands." + +"We might ask him to join us in a game of whist." + +"Nay, we had better let him alone. I think some American has maybe +stolen one o' his patents, or got ahead o' him in some way or other; and +he is going to have it out with him face to face--that would be like +Robert Campbell. He is in a fighting mood anyway, and he wouldn't help +our pleasure; far from it." + +This opinion seemed the general one, so on the voyage he made no +acquaintances, and when the steamer reached New York, he went directly +from her to the railway station, and bought a ticket for San Francisco. +His train was nearly ready, and in half-an-hour he was speeding +westwards. For a few days he noticed nothing, but after he had passed +St. Louis, he began to be astonished, and even slightly terrified at the +immense space separating him from all he knew and loved. Often he had an +urgent feeling that he must at once turn back, and he might have done +so, if a still stronger feeling had not urged him forward. A journey +from London to Edinburgh had always appeared to him a long one, and he +had even felt Sheffield very far from Scotland; but the vastness of the +present journey stupefied him. Before he reached San Francisco, he was +subject to attacks of sentiment about his native city and country. He +felt that he might never see them again. + +But the end came at last, and San Francisco itself was the climax to all +his wanderings. What could induce men to travel to the extremity of +creation, and then build there a city so large and so splendid? How +could they live and trade and make money so far from London and Paris +and the centre of the civilized world? He went to the hotel at which his +sister had stayed, and was obliged to admit that neither Glasgow, +London, nor Paris had anything to rival its luxury and splendor. He +began to be interested. He thought it might be worth while to dress a +little for dinner. + +For to a man as insular in mind as Robert Campbell, the scene was +amazing. He could have gone every day for fifty years to Glasgow +Exchange, and never witnessed anything like its cosmopolitan variety. +There did not seem to be two persons alike in nationality, caste, or +occupation. Even the Americans present were as diverse as the states +from which they came. For the first time in his life it struck Robert +Campbell, that Scotchmen might not possibly be the dominant race in all +the world's great business thoroughfares. + +He forgot his absorbing trouble for awhile, or at least it blended +itself with elements that diluted and even changed its character. Thus, +he began to fancy Theodora in her loveliest, proudest mood walking +through this motley crowd. How would she regard him in it? How would the +crowd regard her? He was busy with this question, when his attention was +attracted by a man who reminded him of something known and familiar. "He +at least has the look of a Scotchman," he mused. "I must have seen him +before somewhere." If he had kept any memory of his own face and figure, +perhaps he might have traced the resemblance home. But often as we look +in our mirrors, who does not straightway forget what manner of man, or +woman, they are? + +For the stranger who had been able to interest Robert Campbell was his +brother David. He was talking earnestly to two men whom Robert could not +classify. They wore no coats, or vests, and the wide, strong leather +belts with which they were girdled had somehow a formidable look; for +though quite innocent of offensive weapons, they appeared to promise or +threaten them. David was evidently their superior, perhaps their +employer, but there was a kind of equality unconsciously exhibited which +Robert wondered at, and did not approve. He felt that under no +circumstances would he have been seen talking familiarly to men so +manifestly of the lower classes. + +But when they went away, David shook hands with them and then stood +still a moment as if undecided about his next movement; and Robert +watched him so fixedly, that he probably compelled his brother's +attention. For he suddenly lifted his eyes, and they met Robert's eyes, +and his face brightened, and he walked rapidly forward, till he placed +his hands on Robert's shoulders, and with a glad smile cried: + +"Robert, Robert Campbell! Don't you know me, Robert? Don't you know me?" + +And Robert gazing into his eager face answered slowly: "Are you +David--my brother? Are you David Campbell, my brother David?" + +"Sit down, dear lad! I am David Campbell. Sure as death, I am your +brother David. Get yourself together, and we will go and have dinner. +You look as if you were going to faint--why, Robert!" + +"I forgot dinner. I have had nothing to-day but a cup of coffee. Oh, +David, David! what a Providence you are! How did you happen in here?" + +"I came to watch for you. I have been coming every day for three weeks. +Can you walk a few steps now? You are requiring food. What made you +forget to eat?" + +"Trouble, great trouble--crazy love, and crazy jealousy. My wife and my +child have left me!" + +"I know." + +"How do you know?" + +"They are my dearest neighbors." + +"Then you saw Isabel?" + +"I did not. I was at the mine, but Theodora told me all about her visit, +and as I knew Isabel would tell you where your wife and child were +living, I have been watching for your arrival. Come now, and let us have +something to eat. Afterwards we will talk." + +"What a splendid dining-room!" + +"Isn't it? And you will get a splendid meal!" He called a negro and +said: "Tobin, bring us the best dinner you can serve." + +The order was promptly and amply obeyed, and before dinner was half over +Robert's irritability and faintness had vanished, and he was the usual +assertive, domineering Robert Campbell. But not until they had finished +eating, and were sitting in the shady court with their cigars would +David allow their personal conversation to be renewed. He began it by +saying: + +"You will wish to see Theodora to-morrow, I suppose?" + +"I wish to see her at once--to-night." + +"That will not do! You want a good sleep, you want a bath and a barber, +and some decent clothes on you." + +"I am not going courting, David." + +"Then you need not go at all. You will require to do the best courting +you ever did, or ever can do, if you hope to get a hearing from +Theodora." + +"She is my wife, David, and she----" + +"Will be far harder to win, than ever Miss Newton was." + +"Win! She was won long ago." + +"Won--and lost. You will not find this second winning an easy one." + +"How do you know so much about her?" + +"I knew all about her miserable life, before I knew her; but I finally +met her at my friend Oliphant's." + +"And it was the Oliphants who told you all her complainings. Mother +never trusted them. It seems she was right--as usual." + +"The Oliphants told me nothing. I heard all her life with you from my +foster-mother, McNab." + +"McNab, your foster-mother, David?" + +"McNab nursed, and mothered me. She was the only mother I ever had." + +"McNab! McNab! Now I begin to understand--and the Oliphants are your +friends? And you stayed with them when in Glasgow?" + +"Always. John Oliphant and I have been acquainted since we were lads +together." + +Then Robert burst into uncanny laughter and answered: "You are the man, +David, I have been wanting to kill all the way across the Atlantic and +across the continent." David looked at his brother full in the eyes, as +men look at a wild animal, and asked slowly: "Why did you want to kill +me, Robert? What harm had I done you?" + +"When I told mother Theodora had gone away from me, her first words +were: 'Has that black-a-visored dandy, staying at the Oliphants', gone +with her?' She added, that she had 'seen you with Theodora and that at +parting you held her hand--and seemed very loth to leave her.'" + +"Mother was altogether wrong. I never was on any street in Glasgow with +your wife. I was never seen in public with her anywhere. I respected +your honor, as well as my own, and never by word, deed, or even thought +wronged it." + +"Why should mother have told such a--lie?" + +"Because it is her nature to make all the trouble she can." + +"But you advised Theodora to leave me?" + +"Never. She acted entirely on her father's and mother's advice. But when +I saw they had resolved to come to the United States, and knew nothing +of the country, I told Mr. Newton about California, and advised him to +make a home here. And as I and my daughters were travelling the same +road, I did do all I could, to make the long journey as easy as +possible. Could any man seeing a party like the inexperienced minister, +and his invalid wife, daughter, and her child, do less than help them +all he could? You owe me some thanks, Robert, when you get sane enough +to pay your debt." + +"I do thank you, David, and what other debt do I owe you? Theodora had +no money." + +"Her father gave me money to buy two of the best staterooms for them. He +paid all their expenses of every kind, and he bought the house in which +they are now living, and paid for it. Since then he has preached, and +lectured, and written, and made a very good living. He has had no +necessity to be indebted to any one. Yet if he had needed money, I would +have gladly loaned him all he required." + +"Oh, David, David! Forgive me. I am in a fever. I do not know what I am +saying. Ever since my wife left me, and wronged me----" + +"Stop, Robert. Your wife never wronged you. She allowed you to wrong her +six years too long. If she had not left you, she would have been dead +long ago. To-morrow, you will see what love, and peace, and this +splendid climate have done for her." + +"And what has her desertion done for me?" + +"If it has not taught you the priceless worth of the loving woman you +were torturing daily, it has done nothing. Wait till you see your son, +and then try and imagine the wretched child he would have been, if his +mother had not braved everything for his sake and taken him beyond the +power of the unnatural woman who hated him." + +"She hated him because he was called David." + +"And she hated me because she wronged me. If she had nursed me, she +would have loved me. She sent me to Lugar Hill School because she hated +me, and she would have sent your David there for the same reason. +Theodora did well, did right to take any means to save the child from +such a terrible life. If she had not done so, she would have been as +cruel as his grandmother--and father." + +"My head burns, and my heart aches! I can say no more now, David." + +"Poor lad! My heart aches for you. But there is a happy future for +Robert Campbell yet. I am sure of it. Put all thought and feeling away +until the morning, and sleep, and sleep, as long as you can." + +"I want to see Theodora early in the day." + +"You cannot. As I told you before, the bath and the barber and the +tailor are necessary. Have you forgotten the spotless neatness and +delicacy of Theodora's toilet? You are going a-wooing, and you must be +more careful in dressing for Theodora Campbell than you were in dressing +for Theodora Newton." + +"I cannot think any longer. I will consider what you say in the +morning." + +"You will be a new man, and begin a new life to-morrow." + +"I want the old life." + +"You do not. And you will never get it. The old life has gone forever." + +In the morning he did not even want it. He he had slept profoundly, and +when he had made all preparations for his visit to Theodora, he was +quite pleased with his renovated appearance. David spoke of sending a +message to her, but Robert thought a surprise visit would be best for +himself. He would not give his wife an opportunity to sit down and +recall all his past offences, and arrange the mood in which she would +meet him, and the words she would say. + +"We do not require to hurry," said David. "She is dismissing her classes +for the summer holidays to-day, and will not be at liberty until near +three o'clock. So we will eat lunch here, and then drive leisurely over +to Newton Place." + +Robert shrugged his shoulders impatiently. He thought his brother was +much too leisurely, but when they were rolling pleasantly along through +the beautiful land, he was not disposed to complain. It was indeed a New +World to him. Half-a-mile from the Newton dwelling, they heard voices +and laughter, and the clatter of horses' feet going at full speed, and +immediately there came into view three young riders--two girls, and a +tall, gallant-looking lad as their escort. + +"_Look, Robert, look!_" cried David, much excited. "Here come my two +girls, and your own little lad. They are racing, and will not stop. Be +ready to give them a '_bravo!_' in passing." He had hardly finished +speaking, ere the gay, laughing party were behind them. They were all in +white linen, and the girls' long bright hair was flowing freely, and had +pink ribbons in it; and the boy had a black ribbon at his knees, and on +his shoes, and an eagle's feather in his cap. And their bright faces +were full of light and mirth, and their voices a living tongue of +gladness, as they passed crying joyously, "Uncle David! Papa! Papa!" + +"My God!" ejaculated Robert. "Is it possible? Can that be my little +David?" + +"It is your David." Then both men were silent, until Robert heard his +brother say, "This is Newton Place," and he looked in astonishment at +the house they were approaching. "It is a lovely spot," he said, "and +there is a great deal of land round it." + +"Yes, Newton made a good investment. The land has increased in value +steadily ever since he bought it. You had better get out at this +turning. I will take the buggy to the stable, and you can go to the door +and ring for admittance." Robert did not like to object, and he did as +directed. The door was standing wide open, but he rang the bell. A +Japanese boy answered the summons, and opening a parlor he told Robert +to take a seat. "Your card, sir," he asked, holding out the little tray +to receive it. + +Robert grew red and angry, but he took a card from his pocket-book, and +threw it upon the tray, and when the boy had left the room he laughed +bitterly, and muttered: "It is a fine thing for Robert Campbell to send +his visiting card to his wife." He would not sit down, but stood glaring +around the cool, dusky room, so comforting after the heat and sunshine. +"I suppose I shall be kept waiting while my wife considers whether to +see me or not; but she may consider too long. I will not be snubbed by +any woman living." + +As he made this resolution, Theodora entered. She came forward with both +hands extended, and her face was radiant, and her voice full of happy +tones. He would have taken her in his arms, but she kept his hands in +hers and led him to a seat. Then Mr. Newton came in with David, and he +threw open the windows, and let in the sunshine, and Theodora was +revealed in all her splendid beauty. In a long white dress, with a white +rose in her hair, she lacked nothing that rich materials or vivid colors +could have given her. Her beautiful hair, her sparkling eyes, her +exquisite complexion, the potent sense of health and vitality which was +her atmosphere, commanded instant delight and admiration; and Robert +could only gaze and wonder. How had this brilliant woman been evolved +from the pale, frail, perishing Theodora he had last seen? + +In a short time the three men went out together to look at the fruit +trees and the wonderful flowers, and Theodora assisted her mother to +prepare such a meal as she knew Robert enjoyed; and when they sat down +to it, she placed Robert at her right hand. They were still at the table +when David came galloping home, and in a few minutes he entered the +room. Every eye was turned on the boy, but he saw at first no one but +his uncle. + +"Cousin Agnes won!" he cried, "won by two lengths, uncle. Isn't she +great?" Then he noticed his father, and for a few moments seemed +puzzled. There was not a word, not a movement as the boy gazed. Theodora +held her breath in suspense. But it was only for a few moments; joyfully +he exclaimed: "I know! I know!" and the next instant his arms were round +his father's neck, and he was crying, "It is father! Father, father! Let +me sit beside him, mother." And Theodora made room for the boy's chair +between them. + +The evening was a revelation to the discarded husband. Theodora sang +wonderfully some American songs that Robert had never before +heard--music with a charm entirely fresh and new; and David recited an +English and Latin lesson, and then at his uncle's request, spoke in good +broad Scotch Robert Burns' grand lyric, "_A Man's a Man for a' That_." +Robert said little, but he drew the lad between his knees, and whispered +something to him which transfigured the child's face. He trusted his +father implicitly, he always had done, and his father had a heartache +that night, when he thought of the wrong that might have been done to +the helpless child. + +Soon after nine o'clock, David Campbell said: "Come, brother, we have a +short ride before us, and I like to close my house at ten; also I am +sure you are weary." + +Robert said he was, but he rose more like a man that had received a +blow, than one simply tired. He could scarcely speak his adieus--and he +could not answer Theodora's invitation to "call early on the following +day" except in single words. "Yes--no--perhaps." + +They were outside the Newton grounds before he spoke to his brother, +then he said: "David, it is too hard. I don't understand. She never +asked me to stay--the Wyntons were asked. I feel as if I had no business +here. I had better go back to Glasgow. I will go back to-morrow." + +"It is not her house. She rents her classroom, and pays her own and her +child's board and lodging there. That is all. She had no right to ask +you to remain. It is Mr. Newton's house, and he received you in a +Christian and gentlemanly spirit. I do not care to say how I would have +received a man who had treated my Agnes, or Flora, in the way Theodora +was treated." + +"I will go back to Glasgow to-morrow." + +"You will do so at the peril of all your future happiness and +prosperity." + +Then they were silent until they reached a great white house standing in +green depths of sweet foliage. Robert wondered and admired. Its vast +hall, and the spacious room, so splendidly furnished, into which his +brother led him, filled him with astonishment. Two pretty girls were +sitting at a table drawing embroidery patterns, and they nearly threw +the table over in their delight when their father entered. + +"Here is your Uncle Robert Campbell!" he cried joyously. "Give him some +of your noisy welcome, and then run away, you little cherubs, or you +will miss your beauty sleep." + +They were soon alone, and David turned out some of the lights and placed +a box of cigars on the table, and the two men smoked in silence for a +little while. Then Robert said: "You are very rich, I suppose, David." + +"Yes, I am tolerably well off." + +"And very happy?" + +"As happy as a man can be, who has lost the dearest and sweetest of +wives." + +"But you will marry again?" + +"Not until my daughters are married! I will never give them a +stepmother; she might make me a stepfather. But when they are settled, I +may marry again." + +"Do you know any one likely to take the place of your dead wife?" + +"No one can ever take her place. There is a very noble woman who may +make her own place in my heart and home. I think it would be a very +strong, sweet place." + +"Is she Scotch?" + +"No." + +"English?" + +"No." + +"American?" + +"Spanish-American." + +"Beautiful?" + +"Very--and of lovely disposition and great attainments. She is also +rich, but that I do not count." + +"What is her name?" + +"Mercedes Morena. She is a Roman Catholic, a woman of fervent piety." + +"Spanish. And a Papist. What will mother say? + +"All kinds of hard things--no doubt--though money makes a good deal of +difference in mother's conclusions. But I care nothing for her opinion; +a wife is a man's most sacred and personal relation. No one has a right +to object to the woman he chooses. It is no one's business but his own." + +"When I married Theodora, she looked as she looked to-night, only +to-night she is far more lovely. Oh, David, I cannot give her up! She is +tied to me by my heart-strings. I shall cease to live, if she refuses +me." + +"And, Robert, she is good as she is lovely. I marvel that you could live +six years at her side, and not grow into her spiritual and mental +likeness." + +"The Campbells have a strong individuality, David." + +"I tell you frankly, she has lifted me upward almost unconsciously. I +would not do the things to-day I did without uneasiness four years ago. +For instance, I would not to-day go into my mother's home and presence +unknown to her. I would not to-day visit you and your works as a +stranger. I enjoyed the incognito four years ago. It appears to me now +dishonorable and vulgar. No one has told me so, or corrected me for +it--the knowledge came with the gradual and general uplift of my ideals, +through companionship and conversation with your wife. How did you +escape her sweet influences?" + +"I kept out of their way." + +"Did you never make any effort to find your wife and child?" + +"I spent four thousand pounds looking for her. Then Isabel advised me to +give the search up, and leave the whole affair to Destiny. I did not +mind the money--much, but I did mind terribly the talk and the +newspapers. I felt it to be a great trial to face even my workmen." + +"How did mother take the event?" + +"She defied it--laughed at it--defended her cruelty--said she would do +it all over again." + +"I have no doubt of it." + +"Dr. Robertson--who heard the whole story from Mrs. Oliphant--came out +to the works to see me, and he said some awful things. He even told me, +that until I repented of my sinful conduct, and acknowledged it before a +session of the Kirk officers, he would refuse the Holy Communion." + +"He did right, Robert, and I am glad to hear that Scotch dominies are +still brave enough to reprove sin in the rich places of the Kirk." + +"Then he went to mother, and told her the same thing." + +"Well?" + +"He could do nothing with mother. She ordered him to 'attend to his +Kirk and his bit sermons, and leave her household alone.' I will not +repeat their conversation--you would not believe any one would dare to +browbeat a minister as she did. He forbid her the sacramental occasion, +and she ordered him out of her house. It made a great scandal. It made +me wretched." + +"What did you do about the Sabbath Day?" + +"There was a new church very near to us, and they were a struggling +congregation, with a boyish kind of minister. Mother was gladly received +there. She rented the most extravagant pew, gave one hundred pounds to +the church fund, and took the minister into her personal care and +protection. Christina and her husband went with her. Mother owns the +Kirk and the minister, and the elders and the deacons, and all the +congregation now. Every one praises her orthodoxy and her generosity, +and she does as she thinks right in Free St. Jude's." + +David laughed heartily, and Robert continued: "All the ladies' societies +meet in Traquair House, and all of them are prosperous. She is president +of some, treasurer of others, and she entertains all of them with a +splendid hospitality. And Christina tells me, she never fails to speak +with pitying scorn of Dr. Robertson and his Kirk. I heard her myself one +day tell them, 'that he was clean behind the times in Christian work. +What is a Kirk worth?' she asked, 'without plenty of Ladies' Auxiliary +Societies? The women in a Kirk must work, God knows the men won't! They +spin a sovereign into the collection box, and think they have done +their full share. Poor things, it is maybe all they can do! The women of +Free St. Jude's must be an example to the Robertson Kirk, and the like +o' it.'" + +"She is a great woman, is mother, in some ways," said David, and he +laughed disdainfully. + +"She is," answered Robert. "I think I will go home to-morrow. Theodora +no longer loves me, and yet, David, I love her a million times more than +ever. No, I can not give her up; I can not, I will not! I will win her +over again--if I stay a year to do it." + +"You would be unworthy of love, or even life, if you gave her up. But +you are worn out and not able to arrange yourself. Come, I will take you +to your room, and to-morrow go and ask her plainly, if she still loves +you." + +"I will." + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE RECONSTRUCTED MARRIAGE + + +During the following three weeks, Robert lived in an earthly paradise. +His brother drew him with cords of strong wisdom and affection always +into the ways of pleasantness and peace. Theodora grew every day more +lovely and more familiar; her little coolnesses vanished in the warmth +of Robert's smiles, her shy pride was conquered by his persistent and +passionate wooing; and the days went by in a glory of innocent +amusements. Theodora and little David were clever and fearless riders, +and they soon made the accomplishment easy to Robert, who was delighted +with its joyful mastery, and greatly disappointed if bad weather, or any +other event, prevented their morning gallop. + +Very frequently he accompanied his brother into San Francisco, met many +of her great financiers and merchants, and was their guest at such +elaborate lunches and dinners as he had never dreamed possible. Or, he +went with Mr. Newton to his vineyard and watched the process of +raisin-making. And Theodora had a dance for him, and the lovely young +girls present taught him the American steps, and made him wonder over +their beauty, their brightness, their perfect ease of manner, and their +manifest superiority and authority over male adorers, who appeared to +be perfectly delighted with their own subjugation. A full course at the +greatest university in the world would not have given him such a +civilizing social education as the pretty girls of San Francisco did in +a month. + +But all things come to an end, and one day Robert received two letters +which compelled a pause in this pleasant life. They were from his mother +and his head manager. His mother wrote: "You be to come home, Robert +Campbell; everything is going to the mischief wanting you! I am hearing +that the men are on strike at the works, and that the fires have been +banked, and the gates locked. Jamie Rathey is drinking too much wine and +neglecting his business, and Christina is whimpering and scolding, for +she knows well he will not behave himself until he gets the word from +you. As for myself, I am barely holding up against the great strain, for +there's none to help me, Christina having trouble enough in her own +shoes, and My Lady Wynton having almost forgotten the way to her own +home, since she was promoted to a residence in Wynton Castle. So, +Robert, my lad, come back as quick as you can, for your mother is sorely +needing you." + +He showed this letter to his brother, and David only smiled. "Let me see +your manager's letter, Robert," he asked, and when he had read it, he +smiled still more significantly. + +"I do not think your letters need give you any anxiety, Robert," he +said. "The letter from Andrew Starkie, your manager, is dated two days +later than mother's, and he does not even name a strike among your +workers. He seems troubled only because the orders are so large he is +afraid that the cash left at his command will not be sufficient to carry +them out. We can send more money to-day. I see no necessity for you to +hurry. I want you to take a sail up to Vancouver, and another sail down +to the Isthmus. You have given me no time yet. And what about your +position with Theodora?" + +"I must find that out immediately. The day after I came, I gave her a +ring she valued highly--a ring that her pupils presented to her. It had +been stolen, and I recovered it, and she was delighted when I put it on +her finger. But when I offered her the wedding ring she returned it to +me, she shook her head, closed her eyes, and would not look at it." + +"Try her again. She has changed since then. I am sure she loves you +now." + +"I am just going to her," and he turned away with such a mournful look +that his brother called him back. + +"Look here, Robert," he said, "faint heart never won fair lady, or +anything else for that matter. Your face is enough to frighten any +woman. Women do not fancy despairers." + +"David, you don't know what a hopeless task it is to court your wife. +She knows all your weak points, and just how most cruelly to snub you." + +"That is not Theodora's way! Speak to her kindly, but bravely. Be +straight in all you say, for I declare to you she _feels_ a lie." + +"Great heavens! I should think I know that, David. I was often forced to +break my promises to her, or in the stress of business I forgot them; +and at last, she never noticed any promise I made. It used to make me +angry." + +"What made you angry?" + +"O, the change in her face, when I said I would do anything. She never +contradicted me in words, but I knew she was mentally throwing my +promise over her shoulder. It was not pleasant." + +"Very unpleasant--to her." + +"I meant to myself." + +"Well, Robert, when you are going to ask a woman to do you a miraculous +favor, do not think of yourself, think of her. Forget yourself, this +morning." + +"O, I think constantly of Theodora." + +David looked queerly at his brother, and seemed on the point of asking +him a question, but he likely thought it useless. Robert went off trying +to look hopeful and brave, but inwardly in a muddle of anxious +uncertainty, because of his mother's letter. He found Theodora in a +shady corner of the piazza; she was reclining in a Morris chair, and +thinking of him. Her loving smile, her happy leisure, her morning +freshness and beauty, her outstretched hand, made an entrancing picture. +He placed a chair at her side, and sat down, and Theodora after a glance +into his face asked: + +"O, knight of the rueful countenance, what troubles you this beautiful +morning?" + +"I have had letters from home," he answered; "not pleasant letters." + +"From your mother, then?" + +"One of them is from mother." + +"She could not write a pleasant letter, and if she could, she would +not." + +"Will you read it?" + +"I would not cast my eyes upon anything her eyes have looked on." + +"She says enough to make it necessary for me to go home." + +"Home?" + +"It is the only home I have. You----" + +"Do not include me, in any remark about your home." + +"Once you made my home your home." + +"Never! There was no such thing as home, in Traquair House." + +"But, my darling Dora--my darling wife----" + +"I am not your wife. When I sent you the wedding ring back--that you +said was yours, not mine--I divorced myself from all a wife's duties, +pains, and penalties." + +"You are my wife, and nothing but my death can make you free." + +"Oh, but you are mistaken! You made a solemn contract with me, and you +broke every condition of that contract." + +"Suppose I did, that----" + +"Your faithlessness made the contract null and void----" + +"The law of England----" + +"I care nothing about the law of England. I am now an American citizen." + +"But, Dora, my dear, dear love, you will surely go back to Glasgow with +me?" + +"Not for all creation! I would rather die." + +"Am I to go back alone? That is too cruel." + +"Why do you wish to go back?" + +"Have you considered my business, Dora?" + +"No, I have thought only of you." + +"But you must think of my business. How can you expect me to give it up? +Why, the 'Campbell Iron Works' are almost historic. They were founded by +my great-grandfather. They are making more money under my management +than ever they did before." + +"If you put your historic iron works before me, you are not worthy of +me." + +"My mother's, and my sister's livelihoods are in the works. They look to +me to protect them." + +"If you put your mother, and your sisters before me, you are not worthy +of me." + +"They love me, Dora." + +"Your mother has many investments. She is rich. Your sisters are well +married. Neither of them would put you before their husbands, why should +you put them before your wife and son? If they had loved you, they would +not have broken up your home, and driven your wife and child away from +you. You were a provider of cash, a giver of social prestige to them--no +more." + +"Then you expect me to give up my family, my business, my +country--everything." + +"I will have everything, or nothing." + +She rose as she said these words, and stood looking into his face with +eyes full of love and trouble. + +"Then God help me, Theodora," he faltered, "for this hour I die to every +hope of happiness in this life!" He lifted her hand, and his tears +dropped on it as he kissed it. "Farewell! Farewell!" + +He was standing before her the image of despairing Love, and she lifted +her eyes, and they met the passionate grief in his. She could not bear +it. "Oh, Robert!" she sobbed, "Oh, Robert, I do love you. I have loved +none but you. I never shall love any other." She laid her head against +his shoulder, and he silently kissed her many times, and then went +slowly away. + +He went straight to his brother with his sorrow, and David listened in +grave silence, until the story of the interview was over. Then he said +softly: + +"_Poor Theodora!_" + +Robert was astonished, even hurt by the exclamation. "Why do you pity +Theodora?" he asked. "It is I you ought to pity." + +"You ought to have had pity on yourself, Robert. Of course, you are +miserable, and you will be far more miserable. How could you bear to +give your wife such a cowardly disappointment; how could you do it?" + +"I do not understand you, David--cowardly----" + +"Yes, that is the word for it. You have been persuading her for a month, +that you loved her before, and above, all earthly things. As you +noticed, she did not at first believe this, but I am sure the last two +weeks she has taken all your protestations into her heart." + +"I told her nothing but the truth." + +"And as soon as you think she loves you----" + +"She does love me--she says so." + +"You take advantage of her love, and ask her to go back to a life that +almost killed her, before she fled from it. Poor Theodora! And I call +your act a selfish, cowardly one." + +"What did you expect me to do?" + +"To give up everything for her." + +"To give up the works--the Campbell Iron Works! To give them up! Sell +them perhaps at a loss! Did you expect I would do this?" + +"I did. I supposed you wished her to be again your wife." + +"You know I wished it." + +"I do not believe you. I think as your holiday was over, you wished to +back out of your promise, and you knew the easiest way to do so was to +require her to go back to Glasgow." + +"Back out! What do you mean, David?" + +"Your mother orders you home, and rather than offend her, or meet her +sarcasms, you ask Theodora to do what you well know she will never do. +Having taught her to love you again, you make her an offer that it is +impossible for her to accept; then you leave her to suffer once more +the pang of wrong and despairing love. Cowardly is too mild a word; your +conduct is that of a scoundrel." + +"My God, David, are you turning against me?" + +"Robert, Robert! I am ashamed of you. Suppose Theodora went back to +Glasgow with you, what would be her position, and what would +people--especially women--say about it? She would be a wife who ran away +from her husband, but whom her husband discovered, and brought back to +her duties. Upon this text, what cutting, cruel speeches mother and all +the women in your set would make. The position would be a triumph for +you--some men would envy and admire you, all would praise you for +standing up so persistently for the authority of the male. But poor +Theodora, who would stand by her?" + +"I would." + +"And your defence of your wife would be counted as a thing chivalrous +and magnanimous in you, but it would be disgraceful in her to require +it. She, the poor innocent one, would get all the blame and the shame, +you, the guilty one----" + +"Stop, David! I never thought of her return in this light." + +"I can imagine mother and the rest of the women chortling and glorying +over the runaway wife brought back." + +"I tell you, I would stand by her through thick and thin." + +"But you could not prevent the women hounding her, and upon my honor, +Robert, she would deserve it." + +"No, David. She would not deserve it." + +"I say she would." + +"What for?" + +"For coming back with you. Every woman with a particle of self-respect +would feel that she had betrayed her sex, and dishonored her wifehood, +and they would despise, and speak ill of her for doing so. And she would +deserve it." + +"Then all this month you have been expecting me to come here to live?" + +"There was no other manly and gentlemanly way out of your dilemma; and +your coming at all authorized the expectation." + +"The iron works are not all, David. Do you think I care nothing for my +family, and my country?" + +"Do you think you are the only person who cares for their family? What +about Theodora's feelings? Her father gave up his ministry, and taking +his wife and the savings of his whole life, he came here to the ends of +the earth with his child, because you had treated her and her son +cruelly. Now you ask her to leave them here, in a new country, where +they have not one relative--in their old age----" + +"I forgot their claim. I will pay all their expenses back to England." + +"Mrs. Newton could not bear the journey back. Mr. Newton has lost all +his interests in England; what money they have is invested here. Oh, if +you do not instantly see their pitiful condition without their +daughter, it is useless to explain it to you. Then there is their +grandchild. He is the light of their life. If their grandchild was taken +away, they would be bereft indeed." + +"Their grandchild is my son. My claim is paramount. I must have my boy +at all hazards. I want him educated in Scotland, and brought up a +Scotchman, not an American. He will be heir to the works, and must +understand the people, and the conditions he has to live with, and work +with." + +"You will never make a Scotchman of Davie. You will never get him out of +this country, or this state. You will never make an iron-worker of +David, he loves too well the free, and open-air life; and the blue +skies, and sunshine." + +"He is under authority, and must come." + +"Under his mother's authority yet, and mind this, Robert, _you will not +be permitted_ to take him from her; _not be permitted_, I say." + +"My God, what am I to do?" + +"Do right. There is no other way to be happy." + +"There are two rights here, my mother and my sisters have claims as well +as my wife and my son." + +"Then for God's sake go to your mother and your sisters! Why did you +come to me for advice, when you are still tied to your mother's +apron-strings." + +"Now, you are angry at me." + +"Yes, and justly so. But if you are bent on Glasgow, the sooner you +start for the dismal city, the better." + +"I will go at once. Will you let some one drive me to San Francisco?" + +"I will tell Saki to bring a buggy to the door in half-an-hour." + +"Don't go away from me, David--don't do that! I am miserable enough +without your desertion." + +"I am disappointed in you, Robert--sorely, sorely disappointed. I have +had a dream about our future lives together, and it is, it seems, only a +dream. Good-bye, Robert! I do not feel able to watch the ending of all +my hopes, so Saki will drive you to the city. And you, too, will be +better alone. Good-bye, good-bye!" + +So they parted, and Robert was driven into the city and took his ticket +for the next train bound for New York. He had some hours to wait, and he +went to the hotel he had frequented with his brother, and sat down in +the office. Undoubtedly there was a secret hope in his heart, that David +would follow him, and he watched with anxiety every newcomer. But David +did not follow him, and when he could wait no longer, he went to his +train. Bitter disquiet and uncertainty wrung his heart, and he was glad +when the moving train permitted him to isolate himself in a dismal, +sullen stillness. + +He had also a violent nervous headache, and physical pain was a thing he +knew so little about, that he was astonished at his suffering, and +resented it. "And this is the end of everything!" he muttered to +himself, "the end of everything! It was brutal to expect me to give up +my business, my family, and my country," and then he ceased, for +something reminded him that Theodora had once made that same sacrifice +for him. In any crisis the "set" of the life will count, and the "set" +of Robert's life was selfishness. This passion now boldly combated all +dissent from his personal satisfaction, denied any supremacy but his +will, drowned the voice of Honor, the pleadings of Love, and insisted on +his own pleasure and interest, at all costs. + +Sorrow, if it be possible, takes refuge in sleep; but sleep was far from +Robert Campbell. His body was racked with physical suffering that he +knew not how to alleviate; his soul was aching in all its senses. He was +assailed by memories, every one of which he would like to have met with +a shriek. All he loved was behind him, every moment he was leaving them +further behind. And his God dwelt--or visited--only in sacred buildings. +He never thought of Him as in a railway car, never supposed Him to be +observant of the trouble between his wife and himself, would not have +believed that there was present an Omniscient Eye, looking with ancient +kindness on all his pain, and ready to relieve it. And oh, the terror of +those long nights, when suffering, sorrow, and remorse were riotous, and +where to him, _God was not_! + +On the second day, the conductor began to watch Campbell. He induced him +to take a cup of strong coffee and lie down, and then went among the +passengers seeking a physician. "I am a physician," said a young man +whose seat was not far from Robert's. "I am Dr. Stuart of San Francisco. +I have been watching the man you mean; he is either insane or ill. I +will not neglect him." + +Robert was really ill; he grew better and worse, better and worse +constantly, until they were near Denver. Then Dr. Stuart went to his +side and made another effort to induce him to converse. "You are ill," +he said. "I am a physician and know it. You must stop travelling for a +few days. Get off at Denver. Where is your home?" + +"In Scotland. I am going there." + +"Impossible--as you now are. Get off at Denver. Go to an hotel, and send +for this physician," and he handed him a slip of paper on which the name +was written. Robert glanced at it, and held it in his hand. + +"Put it in your vest pocket." + +He did so, but his hands trembled so violently, and he looked into the +man's face with eyes so full of unspeakable suffering and sorrow, that +the stranger's heart was touched. He resolved to get off at Denver with +him, and see that he was properly attended to. + +"What is your name?" he asked. + +"I am Robert Campbell." + +"Brother of David Campbell of San Francisco?" + +"Yes." + +"He is as good a man as ever lived. I know him well." + +"Write and tell him his brother is dying--he will come to me." + +"Oh, no! you are not dying. We will not bring him such a long journey. I +will stay with you, until you are better--but off the train you must +get." + +"Thank you! I will do as you say. I will pay you well." + +"I am not thinking of 'pay.' I know your brother, it is pay enough to +serve him, by helping you." + +Robert nodded and tried to smile. He put his hand into the doctor's +hand, went with him to a carriage, and they were driven to an hotel. +During the change, he did not speak, he had all that he could manage, to +keep himself erect and preserve his consciousness. But there are +mystically in our faces, certain characters, which carry in them the +motto of our souls; and the motto the doctor read on Robert's face +was--_No Surrender_. He told himself this, when he had got his patient +into bed, and surrounded him with darkness and stillness and given him a +sedative. "Some men would proceed to have brain fever," he mused, "but +not this man. He will fight off sickness, resent it, deny it, and rise +above it in a few days. I'll give him a week--but he will not succumb. +There's no surrender in that face, though it is white and thin with +suffering." + +For four days, however, Robert wavered between better and worse, as the +gusts of frantic remorse and despair assailed him. Then he forgot +everything but the irreparable mistake that had ruined his life, and +during the paroxysms whispered continually: "Oh, God! oh, God! that it +were possible to undo things done!" a whisper that could hardly be heard +by mortal ears, but which passed beyond the constellations, and reached +the ear and the heart of Him, who dwelleth in the Heaven of Heavens. + +It was in one of those awful encounters of the soul with itself, that he +reached the depth of suffering in which we see clearly; for there is no +such revealer as sorrow. Suddenly and swift as a flash of light, he knew +his past life, as he would know it in eternity--its selfishness, its +cruelty, its injustice. Then he heard words which pealed through his +soul, with heavenly-sweet convincingness, and left their echo forever +there. For awhile he remained motionless and speechless, and let the +comforting revelation fill him with adoring love and gratitude. And +those few minutes of pause and praise were not only sacrificial and +sacramental, they were strong with absolution. He knew what he must do; +he had not a doubt, not a reservation of any kind. In a space of time so +short that we have no measure for it, he had surrendered everything, and +been made worthy to receive everything. + +O, Mystery of Life, from what a depth proceed thy comforts and thy +lessons! Even the chance acquaintance had had his meaning, and had done +his work. Robert had some wonderful confidences with him, as he lay for +a week free of pain, and quietly gathering strength for the journey he +must take the moment he was able for it. He had no hesitation as to +this journey. He knew that he must go back to Theodora--back to the same +goal he had turned away from. Peradventure the blessing he had rejected +might yet be waiting there. + +In ten days Dr. Stuart permitted him to travel, and without pause or +regret he reached San Francisco, refreshed himself, and taking a +carriage drove out to the Newtons'. It was afternoon when he reached the +place, and it had the drowsy afternoon look and feeling. He sent the +carriage to the stable, and told the driver to wait there for further +orders--and then walked up to the house. As he passed Mr. Newton's study +he saw him sitting reading, and he opened the door and went in. The +preacher looked up in astonishment, rose and walked towards him. + +"Robert," he said softly, "is that you?" + +"Yes, father. I have been very ill. I have come back to ask your +forgiveness--and _hers_--if she will listen to me." + +"I am glad to see you. Sit down. You look ill--what can I do for you?" + +"Listen to me! I will tell you all." + +Then he opened his heart freely to the preacher, who listened with +intense sympathy and understanding--sometimes speaking a word of +encouragement, sometimes only touching his hand, or whispering, "Go on, +Robert." And perhaps there was not another man in California, so able to +comprehend the marvellous story of Robert's return unto his better self. +For he had in a large measure that penetrative insight into +spiritualities, which connect man with the unseen world; and that +mystical, incommunicable sense of a life, that is not this life. He knew +its voices, intuitions, and celestial intimations--things, which no one +knoweth, save they who receive them. And when Robert had finished his +confession, he said: + +"I also, Robert, have stood on that shining table-land which lies on the +frontier of our consciousness; and there received that blessed +_certainty of God_ which can never again leave the soul. And you must +not wonder at the suddenness and rapidity of the vision. Every +experience of this kind _must_ be sharply sudden. That chasm dividing +the seen from the unseen, must be taken at one swift bound, or not at +all. You cannot break that leap. Thank God, you have taken it! This +remembrance, and the power it has left behind, can never depart from +you; for + + '_Whoso has felt the Spirit of the Highest, + Cannot confound, nor doubt Him, nor deny._' + +The whole world may deny, but what is the voice of the whole world to +those, who have _seen_ and _heard_ and _known_ + + _'A deep below the deep, + And a height beyond the height, + Where our hearing is not hearing, + And our seeing is not sight'?_ + +What you have told me, Robert, also goes to confirm what I have before +noticed--that this great favor of vision is usually the cup of strength, +given to us in some great agony or strait." + +"Now, father, may I see Theodora?" + +"She went to her room to rest after our early dinner. She also has +suffered." + +"She is in the parlor. I hear her singing. Let us go to her." + +At the parlor door they stood a minute and listened to the music. It was +strong and clear, and her voice held both the sorrow and the hope that +was in her heart: + + "_My heart is dashed with cares and fears, + My song comes fluttering and is gone, + But high above this home of tears + Eternal Joy sings on--sings on!_" + +The last strain was a triumphant one, and to its joy they entered. Then +Theodora's face was transfigured, she came swiftly towards them, and Mr. +Newton laid her hand in Robert's hand, and so left them. And into the +love and wonder and thanksgiving of that conversation we cannot enter; +no, not even with the sweetest and clearest imagination. + +In a couple of hours David came, and Robert joined his father and +brother, and Theodora went to assist her mother in preparing the evening +meal. She found her standing by an open window, wringing her thin, small +hands, and silently weeping. + +"Mother, mother!" cried Theodora, clasping her in her strong arms; "why +are you weeping?" + +"It is that man here again," Mrs. Newton faltered. "I thought that +trouble was over. I can bear no more of it, dear." + +"He will never give you another moment's grief, dear mother. He is +totally changed. He has had an experience; he has been what we +call--converted--mother." + +"Do you believe that?" + +"With all my soul! He has given up everything that made sin and +trouble." + +"Then all is well. I am satisfied." + +"Robert will not be happy until you have welcomed him." + +"Then I will go and do so." + +That evening as they sat together David said: "Father and mother, I wish +to speak for my brother and myself. We are going into a business +partnership, as soon as Robert has been to Glasgow, and turned all his +property into cash. Whatever he is worth, I will double, and 'Campbell +Brothers, Bankers,' I believe, will soon become an important factor in +the financial world of San Francisco." + +"It is a good thing, David. You two working as one will be a multitude. +No one knows the financial conditions here better than you do, David, +and as an investor, I do not believe you have ever made a mistake." + +"I think not, father. Well, then, we will all go into San Francisco as +soon as Robert has rested a little, and select a home for him. I know +of two houses for sale, either of which would be suitable." + +"And when the house is chosen," said Robert, "I hope, mother, you will +assist Theodora in furnishing it just as she wishes, keeping her in +mind, however, that she must be quite extravagant. Simplicity and +economy are out of place in a banker's home, for entertaining on a large +scale will have to be done." + +It was arranged that David should go East with Robert, and see him +safely on board a good liner, and the details of these projects occupied +the family happily for three days; at the end of which they went to San +Francisco. When Theodora's future home had been selected, David and +Robert took the train for New York; the whole family sending them off +with smiles and blessings. And Robert thought of his previous leaving, +and was unspeakably happy and grateful. + +On their journey to New York, the brothers settled every detail of their +banking business, and Robert was amazed at his brother's financial +instinct and business enterprise. "We shall make a great deal of money, +Robert," he said, "and we must do a great deal of good with it. I have +some ideas on that subject which we will talk over at the proper time." + +So the journey was not tiresome, and when it was over, both were a +little sorry. But work was to do, and Robert knew that he would be +restless until he had finished his preparations for his new life, and +got rid of all encumbrances of the past. + +The sea journey was short and pleasant, and it removed the most evident +traces of his illness. His face was thinner, but that was an +improvement; and his figure, if more slender was more active, and there +was about him the light and aura of one who is thoroughly happy, and at +peace with God and man. + +As soon as he arrived in Glasgow, he went to his club, and looked over +the accumulation of letters waiting him. It was raining steadily--that +summer rain which we feel to be so particularly unwanted. The streets +were sloppy, the air damp, the sky dull, and not brightened by the +occasional glints of pale sunshine; but when he had relieved his mind of +its most pressing business, he went to Traquair House. Jepson opened the +door for him, but the man looked ill, and said he was on the point of +leaving Glasgow. Robert could now sympathize with him, for he had +learned the agony of constant headache, and he said so. The man looked +at him in amazement, and he told McNab of the circumstance, adding: "The +master was never so kind to me in all his life, as he was to-day." McNab +answered curtly: + +"No wonder! He has been living wi' decent folk lately, and decency +tells. Them Californians are the civilest o' mortals. You'll mind my ain +lad, that was here about four years syne?" + +"I'll never forget him, Mistress McNab. A perfect gentleman." + +"Weel, he was, in a way, a Californian--born, of course, in Scotland, +but knocked about among the Californians, until he learned how to behave +himsel' to rich and poor and auld and young, and special to women and +bairns." + +While this conversation was going on Robert sat in the old dining-room. +It was dismal enough at all times, especially so in rainy weather, and +more specially so when it was summer rain, and no blazing fire +brightened the dark mahogany and the crimson draperies. + +His mother was at home, but he was told Christina was occupying the +little villa he had bought at Inverkip. He had not been asked for its +use, and it contained a good deal of Theodora's needlework, and much +summer clothing. For a few minutes he was angry, but he quickly reasoned +his anger away. "There are no happy memories about any of the things. It +is better they should not come into our future life," he said to +himself. He wondered his mother did not come, and asked Jepson if she +had been told. "Yes, she had been told, and had sent word 'she would be +down as soon as dressed.'" + +It was an hour before she was dressed, and Robert felt the gloom and +chill of waiting. Indeed, he was so uncomfortably cold, that he asked +for a fire, and was standing before it enjoying its blaze and warmth +when Mrs. Campbell entered. + +"Good gracious, Robert!" she cried, "a fire in August! I never heard +tell of such a thing." + +"I am just from a warm, sunny country, mother, and I have also been ill, +and so I feel the cold." + +"Well, well! Put a screen between me and the blaze. I am not auld enou' +yet, to require a blaze in August." + +"To-morrow, it will be the first of September. How are you, mother?" + +"Fine. That foolish fellow you left over the works came here--came +special, mind ye--to tell me you were vera ill. He said he had received +a letter from a Dr. Stuart, living in a place called Denver, saying you +were at Death's door, or words to that effect; but I sent him back to +his proper business wi' a solid rebuke for leaving it. I'm not the woman +to thank any one for bringing me bad news--lies, too, very likely." + +"No, I was very ill." + +"Say so, where was there any necessity for the man to be sending word o' +it half round the world? Nobody here could help. It was just making +discomfort for no good at all." + +"I suppose he thought, if I died, my friends might possibly like to know +what had become of me." + +"I wasna feared for you dying. Not I! I knew Robert Campbell had mair +sense than to die among strangers. Then there was the works left to +themselves, as it were, and that weary woman you've been seeking mair +than four years, just found out, and I said to myself, if I know Robert +Campbell, he won't be stravaganting to another world, whilst his affairs +in this world are all helter-skelter." + +"I have come here to put my affairs as I desire them. Then I am going +back to California." + +"I do not believe you. You are just leeing to me." + +"Mother, I am going to sell the works. I want to live in California." + +"To please Theodora," she said scornfully. + +"To please Theodora and myself. I like the country; it is sunny and +delightful, and the people are wonderfully gracious and kind." + +"Of course, they have to be more than ordinary civil, or what decent +people would live among the crowd that went there?" + +"That element has disappeared. There are no finer men and women in the +world than the Californians. I shall ask for citizenship among them." + +Then the temper she had been trying to control broke loose, and carried +all before it. "You base fellow!" she cried, "you traitor to all good! +You are unworthy of the country, the home, and the business you desert. +I am ashamed to have brought you into the world. To surrender everything +for a creature like your runaway wife is monstrously wicked--is +incredibly shameful!" + +"If I could surrender more for Theodora, I would gladly do it, so that I +might atone for what I, and you, made her suffer. And she has not taken +me to California--you drove her there." + +"I'm gey glad I did." + +"And as she will not come back here, I must go to her there. Your own +work, mother." + +"Very good. I accept it. I'm proud o' it." + +"My dear mother----" + +"Stop palavering! You can cut out 'dear.'" + +"Let us talk reasonably. I came here to ask whether you will remain a +shareholder in the works, or withdraw your money?" + +"I'll withdraw every bawbee out o' them. Your sisters can do as they +like. And may I ask, what you are going to do? Become a miner, and carry +a pick and a dinner-pail? That would be a proper ending for Robert +Campbell." + +"I am going to join my brother David in a banking business in San +Francisco." + +"Your brother David! Your brother David! So he is in California, too? +_Dod!_ I might have known it--the very place for the like o' him." + +"He is one of the princes of Californian finance. He dwells in a palace. +He is worth many millions of dollars." + +"_Dollars!_" and she spit the word out of her mouth with inexpressible +scorn--"dollars! what kind o' money is that? I wouldn't gie you a copper +half-penny for your dollar." + +"A dollar is worth just one hundred half-pennies." + +"I'm not believing you. Why should I? And pray how did you foregather +wi' your runawa' brother?" + +"He is Theodora's neighbor, and she is educating his daughters." + +"And pray how did Dora happen on your brother? It is a vera singular +coincidence, and I am no believer in coincidences. If the truth were +known, they have all o' them been carefully planned, and weel +arranged." + +"She met my brother here in Glasgow." + +"She did nothing o' the kind." + +"She met him at the Oliphants'." + +"Oh, oh! I see, I see! The dark man so often riding about wi' Mistress +Oliphant was your brother?" + +"He was my brother David, and he was also McNab's foster-son." + +"Great heavens! What a fool Margaret Campbell has been for once! To +think o' Flora McNab making a mock o' me. She told me he was her son." + +"So he was, in a way. McNab suckled him, and mothered him, as well as +she could. She was the only mother he had." + +"You lie, Robert Campbell. I was his mother." + +"You ought to be proud of it." + +"Is his wife alive or dead?" + +"She is dead. He will marry again soon." + +"Some of the Oliphant kin, I suppose?" + +"No. She is not a Scotchwoman." + +"I hope to goodness she isn't English." + +"She is Spanish-American, a great beauty, and almost as rich as David +himself." + +"_Humph!_ I am believing no such fairy-tale. Why would a rich beauty be +wanting David Campbell?" + +"David is a very handsome man." + +"Mrs. Oliphant seemed to think so!" + +"Every one thinks so." + +"I hope she is not a Methodist." + +"She is a Roman Catholic." + +"A Roman Catholic! A Campbell can get no further downward than that. +Your forefathers fought--and, thank God, mostly killed--a Roman Catholic +on sight. Ah weel, I suppose it is the money." + +"Oh, no! David would not marry for money." + +"He didn't anyhow. He married a poor, plain, beggarly sewing-girl." + +"She was a minister's daughter, and he loved her." + +"Weel, Robert Campbell, I hope you have emptied your creel o' bad news. +If you have any more tak' it back to where it came from. I'll not listen +to another word from you." + +"I must ask you, what you wish about this house? If you desire to remain +here, I will not sell it." + +"I'll not stop in it, any longer than it takes me to move out o' it. You +are no kin to me now, and thank God, I am not come to a dependence on a +Scotch turncoat, or even an American citizen!" + +"Do you think Christina would like the use o' it?" + +"Christina is doing better. Rathey is going to be man-of-law and private +secretary to Sir Thomas, and they are to have the Wynton Dower House to +live in, a handsome place in a big garden." + +"Will you go with her, mother?" + +"It is none of your business where I go. I would not ask a shelter from +you, if I were going to the poor-house. I am going where I'll be rid of +whimpering wives, and whining bairns, and fleeching, flattering folk, +who want siller for their fine words. I'm done with the old, unhappy +house. Sell it as soon as you like. It was an ill day when I stepped +o'er its threshold." + +"Then good-bye, mother. Say a kind word to me. We may meet no more in +this world." He advanced towards her and put out his hand. + +She rose and lifted her solitaire pack of cards--which was lying on the +table by which she stood--and began shuffling them in her hands. "You +ungrateful son of your mother Scotland and your mother Campbell!" she +cried. "You traitor to every obligation due your family! You slave to a +Methodist wife, go to your Papist-loving brother. California is a proper +home for you. _Dod!_ I am sick of the whole lot o' you--lads and lassies +baith--Isabel is o'er much 'my lady' for any sensible body to thole; and +Christina is aye sniffling and worrying about her bairns, or her silly, +fiddling husband. I am sick, tired--heart and soul tired--o' the serpent +brood o' you Campbells; and you may scatter yoursel's o'er the face o' +the whole earth, for aught I care," and with these words she flung the +cards in her hand far and wide, over the large room. She was in an +incredible passion, and Robert put his hand on her arms, crying in +terror and amazement: + +"Mother! Mother! Mother! For God's sake I entreat----" + +"Out o' my sight instanter!" she answered. "Scotland and Margaret +Campbell is weel rid o' the like o' you." She shook off his restraining +hands, and clasping her own behind her back, she went to a window and +stood there looking far over the dull, wet street to some vision +conjured up by her raging, scornful passion. + +Robert again approached her. "I am going, mother," he said. "God forgive +us both! Farewell!" and he once more offered her a pleading hand. She +looked at it a moment, but kept her own resolutely clasped behind her, +and finally with an imperative motion uttered one fierce word: + +"_Go!_" + +She was still at the window when he reached the sidewalk, and he raised +his hat, and looked at her as he passed. But her gaze was intentionally +far off, and if she saw this last act of entreaty, she was beyond the +wish, or even the ability to notice it. + +Robert was very miserable, so much so that he forgot to write to +Theodora, and when he awoke after a restless night and remembered the +omission he said with a sigh: "Theodora is right. It must be everything +or nothing. If I could get her to come back here, it would be the old +trouble over again--and worse." + +That day he went to the Wyntons', and talked with Sir Thomas about the +sale of the works. He was in hopes that he could form a syndicate, buy +the works, and make himself president. And at first the baronet was +enthusiastic about the scheme, but day after day, and week after week +went on, and nothing definite was arrived at. Isabel had strong family +feeling, and she was sullenly silent about the sale of the furnaces, and +her brother's settlement in America. The works had done so well under +Robert's direction, that her income had been nearly doubled, and she +thought that he ought to continue his labor, where Providence had +enabled him to do so well for the family. Finally, Robert abandoned the +Wynton scheme, and went to Sheffield to see his old business friend +Priestley. The visit was destined and propitious, and in three weeks the +transfer of the Campbell Iron Works to a Yorkshire iron company was +completed, and Robert was ready to return home. + +He was glad of it. His visit had been a painful and separating one. His +sisters had disappointed him. He was sure Isabel had prevented her +husband's desire to buy the works, and she had let him feel, in her +cold, silent way, that she disapproved of his selling them, and still +more disapproved of his settlement in America. And the selfish little +soul of Christina complained constantly of Robert leaving her money in +strange hands. She thought it was his duty to stay in Glasgow and manage +the works for his mother's and sisters' benefit; and when the sisters +talked of the matter together, they expressed themselves very plainly +about that "Englishwoman who had been so unfortunate to their house." + +Robert went from Sheffield to Liverpool, and did not return to Glasgow. +He was glad and grateful to set his face westward and homeward. Nothing +of importance happened on the journey, and when he reached San Francisco +his brother David was waiting at the railway depot to welcome him. They +clasped hands and looked into each other's eyes, and everything was well +said that words would have said clumsily. It was then nearly dark, and +they went to the hotel for the night. Far into the midnight hours they +sat discussing their business future, and David was astonished at the +fortune which Robert had made out of the old works. And Robert was still +more astonished at the fortune which his brother had made out of his +relatively small capital, and his own business sagacity and native +industry and prudence. + +In the early morning David wished his brother to go and look over the +new home which Theodora had been preparing, but Robert said he wanted to +see Theodora above all things, and would go at once out to the Newtons'. + +"Very good," replied David, "then you will go alone, for I am to bring +Mercedes with me, and I cannot call for her before ten. It is a charming +thing, Robert, that Mercedes and Theodora love each other dearly. They +have worked together constantly over your new home, and made it a lovely +place. I suppose you will be married this afternoon." + +"Married! Married! Does Theodora expect it?" + +"I think all preparations are made for the little ceremony. I would not +disapprove, if I were you, Robert." + +"Disapprove! What do you mean? I shall be the most joyful man in the +world." + +Breakfast was scarcely over when Robert reached Newton Place; and +Theodora came running to meet him with a large apron over her pretty +white dress. But oh, how beautiful was her beaming, smiling face, how +tender her embrace, how sweet the loving words with which she welcomed +him. He was paid, and overpaid, for all he had suffered, and all he had +resigned. + +"We shall be married this afternoon, eh darling?" he asked. + +"All shall be as you wish, my love. I am ready," she answered. + +Such a delightful morning! Such a happy hurry in the house! Such sweet +laughter, and pleasant calling of each other's names! Such enthusiasm +over Mercedes' beauty in her pink satin costume! Such an enjoyable +little lunch at one o'clock! Such a bewildering number of pleasant +events crowded into a few hours. If ever there was in any earthly home a +sense of heavenly love and joy, it was in the Newton house that day. +Angels might--and probably did--rest in the flower-scented atmosphere of +its spotless rooms, for if angels rejoice with the sinner forgiven and +accepted, surely still more will they rejoice in the fruition of tried +and accepted love, and in the unselfish affection of those who rejoice, +because others rejoice. + +Just before three o'clock Mr. and Mrs. Newton went together to the +parlor and sat down by a small table covered with a white cloth, on +which there lay a Bible and a Book of Common Prayer. A few minutes later +David and Robert came in, and stood talking to them, until the door +opened and Theodora and Mercedes entered. Then Mr. Newton stood up, and +Robert and Theodora stood before him, and renewed their marriage vows in +the most solemn and simple manner. There were no decorations, no music, +no attendants, no company, nothing but a prayer, and the old, old ritual +of a thousand years. But after it Mr. Newton told them in a few +sentences, how supremely important love is to the soul. + +"It perishes without love," he said. "To the soul love is blessing, love +is salvation, love is the guardian angel, and without love the +centrifugal law easily overpowers and sweeps it far out from its divine +source, towards the cold frontiers of the material and the manifold." + +Then there was a tender and cheerful good-bye, and Robert and Theodora +went to their new home. They wandered hand in hand through all its +beautiful rooms, and through the scented walks of its fair garden, and +Robert said: "It is a palace in Paradise, darling." + +"And I am so happy! So proud, and so happy, dear Robert!" she answered. + +After a perfect dinner at their own table, Robert went to his wife's +parlor to smoke his cigar, and then he told her all about his last +unhappy visit to his family, and his native land. + +It was the necessary minor note in their joyful wedding song, but it +soon returned to its triumphant dominant, since they must needs rejoice +in that loving Power which had so surely "tempered all things well," + + "_Had worked their pleasure out of pain, + And out of ruin golden gain._" + +And as they talked in the splendid room, with its sweet odors and dim +light, their voices grew lower, and they were content to whisper each +other's names, and fall into sweet silences, thrilled with such soft +stir, as angels in their cloud-girt wayfarings know, when they "feel the +breath of kindred plumes." And thus, + + "_The tumult of the time disconsolate, + To inarticulate murmurs died away._" + + + + +OTHER BOOKS BY MRS. BARR + + + JAN VEDDER'S WIFE + + THE BOW OF ORANGE RIBBON + + REMEMBER THE ALAMO + + FRIEND OLIVIA + + A ROSE OF A HUNDRED LEAVES + + THE LION'S WHELP + + THE BLACK SHILLING + + THE BELLE OF BOWLING GREEN + + CECILIA'S LOVERS + + THE HEART OF JESSY LAURIE + + THE STRAWBERRY HANDKERCHIEF + + THE HANDS OF COMPULSION + + THE HOUSE ON CHERRY STREET + + ETC. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A RECONSTRUCTED MARRIAGE*** + + +******* This file should be named 36490.txt or 36490.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/6/4/9/36490 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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