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 la.s.s 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 la.s.ses."

"_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 circ.u.mstance," 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. n.o.body 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.