A happy woman
her advice. I always admire her taste, and it's a serious matter.
Oh, don't go! I'm an old fogy and ought not to be bashful! It's the
important question of an engagement ring. I've got a lot of them, in my
pocket somewhere—hope I haven't lost them!"
He was pulling things furiously out of his pockets, talking hard as he
did so.
"Funny to see you handling a baby! But, whether it's a baby, or sick
bird, or a pot of bulbs, you always do seem made for it! Ever see such
a young person for establishing herself as a protector and caretaker
for every human being she comes across?"
He had turned to Miss Grafton now, who, much against her inclination,
was rising to go.
"I'm sure you two will like a good talk together. No, I won't stay. I
only live opposite, and can run in any time. Good-bye, my dear Sara.
And I hope you will be able to give the needed help and advice."
She was out of the room as briskly as if she had never been an invalid.
In the summer, Miss Grafton always revived in a most marvellous fashion.
Colonel Fleming found his packet, but there was another interruption in
the entrance of the nurse who took her charge away, and Sara was now
able to give her whole attention to the excited little Colonel.
"I must give you my warm congratulations," she said. "I have only just
heard the news. I don't know which of you is most to be congratulated."
"That's very nice of you, but I'm a lucky man. She's so different to
the usual modern girls, now isn't she? Such a thorough home-loving
little soul, as unselfish as they're made! And such cheery company for
an old duffer like myself. Do you think I'm too old for her? She says
she doesn't like young men. And I'll give her a happy time, God helping
me, such as she has never had before!"
"It's delightful," said Sara. "I hoped you two would come together. She
is a darling, and is so true and constant to those she loves."
"She's tons too good for me," said Colonel Fleming.
And then he produced his case of rings, fingering them doubtfully.
"I came off at once. I was determined to get her a nice one, and then
I thought of you—if old Lambert hadn't known me all his life, he might
have thought I was going to rob him! I caught up this case—told him I
would be back in an hour's time—hailed a taxi in passing, and here I
am! Now, what do you think I ought to give her? Pearls are more her
sort, aren't they? I always think diamonds are vulgarized by the kind
who wear them. But I like this old emerald and diamonds. What do you
think? Will you choose for her?"
Sara bent her mind to the task. They finally selected a beautiful pearl
ring with a diamond in the centre. That business over, he settled down
to talk.
"We have missed you, 'pon my word we have. And Ina is quaking now as
to what her duty is. She feels you left Mrs. Laird to her as a trust,
and she at first—would you believe it?—wouldn't listen to me, said Mrs.
Laird had been so good and kind to her that she couldn't leave her. She
got quite distressed, so I let the matter drop, and then got hold of
Graham on the sly, and he told his mother, and she of course made it
all right. I can't get over the change in Mrs. Laird, I really can't!
She isn't the same woman. Why, she's visiting some of the old people
round her and taking the greatest interest in all her neighbours!"
"I'm so glad! And how is Mr. Laird getting on in his new sphere?"
The Colonel hesitated.
"He's not himself at all. Can't make the chap out. Look here, you
and I are chums, you know! You won't take offence. I guessed what
had happened—and Graham let out to me the trouble—and though I see
your point, I'm awfully disappointed—he's such a good fellow—except
perhaps the one thing—but, do you know, I think he poses as being more
indifferent than he really is about religion. He takes his mother to
church now as a regular thing.
"What I can't understand is the hold Mrs. Jeffery has over him. That
little woman never leaves him alone for a week at a time. She's always
writing to him, or sending for him—and she's moved up to Chester
now—within a few hours' reach of him by train, and the amount of
business she and he do together would appal you! I always told you
that she's after him! And I suppose you don't care. I don't often feel
afraid of women, but she does give me the squirms! If Graham is fool
enough to marry her, he will rue it. His mother and I are kindred
spirits on that point. I can see she is very uneasy."
"Are you staying in town for long?" Sara asked, wishing to change the
subject.
"I go to-morrow—am putting up at my club for the night."
"I have not asked yet where you have settled?"
"I've got an awfully snug little place—couldn't cotton to the town,
so scoured the suburbs and country round. And one day I found what I
wanted, only two miles out, but it lies in the corner of the moor in
a sheltered hollow—is called Beckdale Hollow. An artist fellow built
it—thatched roof—and a big studio which I have turned into a kind of
hall, and the garden is well-stocked and secluded, and the stables'
yard. I'm going to keep some live stock—a cow and fowls and piggeries,
etcetera, but I'm not going to farm—have had enough of that. I have
taken over a colliers' club and am running it—and on Sundays I go in
and meet them—not as a parson, but a friend—and then I give them a
little Sunday talk, and we have singing. You should hear those chaps
sing! And I do a lot of odd jobs for Graham—quite good for me to keep
me from getting rusty."
"And soon," said Sara, smiling, "you will have a dear little wife to
take care of, and will no longer be lonely in your home. Oh, I am very,
very glad for you both!"
"I knew you would be."
His voice softened—
"If you only knew the loneliness of the past years! I can hardly
believe in my good fortune! I shall have her love always in my future
now! My cup runs over, doesn't it?"
"You deserve it."
He shook his head.
"Well—I must get back with these rings, or I shall have the police on
my track. Any messages? I've got the picture of you photographed on my
brain—here in this pretty room, in your blue gown, and the sleeping
baby in your arms—a good thing for you to have the interest of him, eh?
You're looking a trifle thin! Miss the keen air on those hills, eh?
London soon takes an outer rim off one!"
"Give them my dear love," said Sara, the light coming to her eyes;
"and—and Colonel Fleming—I speak plainly like yourself—don't forget Mr.
Laird in your new happiness. He is a lonely man too remember, and a
more difficult nature to understand than—than yours. Don't let him feel
you're not interested in him. Don't drive him into Mrs. Jeffery's arms!"
Colonel Fleming shot a keen glance at her.
"I believe he's there already!" he blurted out. "But bless your kind
little soul! Graham and I are old pals. I'll stick to him as I always
have. Wife or no wife. Good-bye—awfully nice seeing you again. May I
look you up when I'm next in town? And I say—remember you're booked for
the wedding. Coming off in September, I believe. Don't you fail us!"
He was out of the room before he had finished speaking.
He had brought Sara a whiff of the old life; and the ache at her
heart made itself felt. How she longed to go back with him! But she
resolutely set herself to think of other things. Vain regrets would not
be profitable, she assured herself. She had acted as she felt right;
she must not torture herself now by questioning her decision. She could
only pray and hope that Graham would not rush recklessly into taking a
step that he would afterwards regret.
And then, as she sat dreaming by the open window, her brother came in,
and claimed her attention.
"Sara, Talbot Gray is going out to the Rockies for a year. He wants me
to go with him."
"And are you going?" Sara asked, looking up with a smile. "You told me
last night you might have the chance of going abroad. I suppose this is
it?"
"Yes. Will you mind? I can't settle to my work. I think a year's break
will do me good. Will you look after my boy?"
"Assuredly I will. I think you are wise, Arnold. You will come back
fresh and ready for your work again. But now we must talk business.
What about this house? Could we not let it? I have got a little tired
of town life. Baby and I will be better and happier in the country."
"Really? Surely you would have more friends in town?"
"I think not, and running this house is an expense, and rather an
unnecessary one. Let me find a small cottage in the country, and take
nurse and another good servant. May I?"
"If you would prefer it, of course. Sara, why don't you marry?"
He spoke abruptly, and Sara looked up at him with astonishment in her
eyes.
"Why should you ask me such a question?"
"Because you're too good to be wasted," said her brother promptly.
"You're one of the women in the world who have the art of making men
really comfortable. My poor little wife never had it. Things were
always going wrong and worrying her to death. Nothing ever seems to go
wrong when you're in a house, or else you have the art of hiding it
away from us men!"
Sara laughed merrily—
"You poor men! You do value a life of comfort, don't you? It won't
hurt you to miss your home comforts, Arnold, for a while! But, joking
apart, I thank you for the compliment paid me. And I assure you that I
am perfectly happy in my single state, and wish nothing better than to
go on making people comfortable. Now then, let us talk about the money
part of this plan of yours. How much will your trip cost? How much can
you afford to leave me?"
Brother and sister were soon deep in calculation. Sara never made a
fuss about any impending changes. She immediately adapted herself to
her new circumstances. But when she went to bed that night, she did
have a few lonely reflections.
"I shall miss him dreadfully. To be shut up with a baby and two
servants, and have no sensible intellect with which I can exchange a
few sentiments will be a trial. But, after all, I have the darling boy
to train, and I am not a person without resources. Yes, I think I will
venture upon the country. It will suit us better, especially in the hot
weather coming!"
Her brother rapidly made his arrangements to leave.
At the last moment in parting, he looked at his sister with
affectionate scrutinizing eyes.
"You have been an angel to leave your own life, and come back to me.
And I'm making you a shabby return by going off away from you. But I
felt that you were wasting yourself on some second-rate uninteresting
people, so that made me bold in asking you to leave them."
"They are not second-rate," said Sara, quickly; "I count them as dear
friends now."
"Do you want to go back to them?"
"No, I can never do that."
"You see, Sara, the fact is I can't settle down. The house reminds me
so of her! I have got to hate every room in it. It has been different
since you came, but I feel still that I must get away. And you are very
fond of my small Oliver, aren't you?"
"Oliver is a darling!" said Sara, brightly. "He will keep me busy and
occupied, till you come back."
So her brother went.
And Sara and her old friend Miss Grafton were much together whilst she
was arranging to let the house, and trying to find a suitable home for
herself and the baby.
At last, she settled upon a certain farmhouse in Devon, a farmhouse
which possessed four good airy rooms for letting. She went down herself
to inspect them, and fell in love with the place.
The house stood on a slope of a hill facing south, and was in a lonely
bit of wooded country. There was an apple orchard in front, and the
four rooms composed a complete wing of the house, two downstairs, one
of which was the kitchen, the other a very comfortable sitting-room,