"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 pa.s.sive 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, la.s.sie--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 la.s.sie 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 a.s.sured 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 G.o.d 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 la.s.sie 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 antic.i.p.ated, 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 antic.i.p.ation. 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 pa.s.s. 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."