Peggy looked at her wonderingly. Flushed cheeks, radiant smiles, eyes ashine with happiness, and all this pleasure at the thought of what was to happen after her own death! Twenty-one drew a breath of dismay, and cried reproachfully:

"I don't know how you _can_ talk so! I don't know how you can bear to discuss such things in that complacent fashion. I won't _think_ of it even, but you seem quite calm about it. You can talk, and even _laugh_--"

"Yes!" cried Mrs Asplin quickly. "I can! I'm thankful for it. Many a time in these last few weeks, Peggy, I've thanked my old father for the gift of his irrepressible Irish spirit, and I've thanked G.o.d too, dear, that, old and weary as I am, I can still look on the bright side, and keep a cheery heart. It's a great blessing, Peg, a wonderful blessing, for it helps not only ourselves, but those around us, over many a dismal road. You have the gift, so see that you cultivate it, child, and never let yourself imagine that you are pleasing G.o.d by going about with a gloomy face and a furnace of sighs. The world wants all the sunshine it can get, and deary me! what a pleasure it is to see a smiling face!

It's just a real help and lift on the way."

"It's a help to see _you_. I always feel better for it," returned Peggy earnestly. There was a moment's silence, then suddenly she clasped her hands round the other's arm with an eager question. "Tell me, what does it feel like to be face to face with death as you are now? To live with the expectation of it with you day and night? To know for a certainty that it is near? Tell me, how does it feel?"

Mrs Asplin stood still in the middle of the path and drew a long fluttering breath. Her eyes grew rapt, and she clasped the girl's hand in an ecstasy of emotion.

"Peggy, it's--_wonderful_!" she sighed. "It is like being suddenly lifted on to a plateau and seeing life above the clouds! Everything is different, everything is altered! Things that were forgotten before seem now to fill in the whole view; things that were large and looming, seem, oh, so small, so mean and trifling! I look back, and can hardly understand how I worried myself about useless trifles--little shabbinesses about the house, upset of arrangements, clothes and food and holiday-making. When you once realise the uncertainty of life, they seem of such unutterable unimportance. And it helps one to be gentle, too, because if by chance it should happen to be the last day one had to live, how sad it would be to speak hasty words, or to leave some one sorrowing because of neglect or unkindness! It makes one long to do kind things and say cheering words, and oh, so terrified of losing an opportunity which may never come again! The doctor's verdict was a great shock to me at first, but I am gradually coming to look upon it as one of the greatest of blessings, for it's a hasty, impetuous creature I've been all my days, and this quiet waiting time is going to teach me many lessons. I ought to be grateful and happy that it has been granted me."

Peggy bit her lips and looked at the ground. She could not trust herself to speak, but in her heart she was saying:

"And after all, she may live longer than I! Every life is uncertain.

_I_ ought to feel like that too. I ought to climb up to that high ground above the clouds. It's because she is a Christian that she feels like that. I used always to think that very good people must be dull and gloomy, but Mrs Asplin is the happiest creature I know, and so full of fun... We used to go to her for help in all our school-day pranks, and now when she knows she is going to die, she is happy still, and quite calm and bright. I should like--oh, I should like to be good like that! One can't always be young, and pretty, and happy, and strong; and if I am going to be a Christian at all, I want to begin now, and not wait until the troubles begin. That would feel mean! I wouldn't treat any one on earth like that--ignore him altogether so long as everything went well, and fly to him for help the moment I was in difficulties...

That awful night when Arthur told us that the doctors would not pa.s.s him for the Army, Mrs Asplin said that there were more ways than one of being a soldier, and I knew what she meant. 'A soldier of Christ!' _I_ could be that as well as Arthur, and I have been longing to fight all my life... How does it go? ...

"'Soldiers of Christ arise, And put your armour on, Strong in the strength which G.o.d supplies Through His Eternal Son!'

"Oh, what a glorious army! What an honour to belong to it! I'm only a poor little recruit, but if Christ would train me--"

Peggy's heart swelled with longing, and she clasped her hands nervously together. It was a great moment, and her wonted self-confidence failed her on this threshold of another life. The downcast fame grew so anxious and troubled that Mrs Asplin became distressed at the sight, and, as usual, took the blame upon herself.

"Dear child," she said fondly, "I'm afraid I have oppressed you with the weight of my burdens. It seems a strange thing that I should have chosen a young thing like you as _confidante_, but at the time my thoughts seemed to turn naturally to you. If Esther had known how weak I was, she would have felt it her duty to give up her situation and come home, and I was most unwilling to interfere with what I then believed to be her life's work. Mellicent would have been quite overwhelmed, poor child; and as for my boy, he would have worried himself to death, when he needs all his courage to help him through these years of waiting.

But you were here, almost like a second daughter, and yet living so much apart that you would not be constantly shadowed by the remembrance, and so it came to pa.s.s that to you, dear, I opened my heart. You have been all sweetness and consideration, and for my own sake I have no regrets, but I shall be miserable if I see you depressed. No more sighs, Peggy, _please_! I tell you honestly, dear, that I am better in health than I was two months ago! Rest and care, and freedom from suspense, have done good work already, so don't begin to lament too soon, for I may cheat the doctors yet. Now smile and look like yourself, for we can allow no doleful faces to-day. It is a happy day for me, for once more I have two sons to love and be proud of. There goes the bell, and we must go in to tea and to entertain the lovers. Don't be _too_ severe, darling, for they are very new and most amusingly self-conscious. I am sure poor dear Esther will feel it quite an ordeal to face you."

Peggy smiled at that, as it had been intended she should, and the next moment Mellicent came flying down the path, her eyes dancing with excitement.

"They've come!" she cried. "They are in the schoolroom waiting for you.

The professor is standing in the middle of the floor smiling into s.p.a.ce like a china image, and Esther is horribly embarra.s.sed. I told her that Peggy was here, and she _q-quailed_! Literally quailed before me. I saw her do it!"

"She may well quail!" cried Peggy meaningly. She threw back her head, peaked her brows over eyes of solemnest reproof, and marched into the house with a Mariquita stride.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

The glance of shamed apprehension which Esther cast at Peggy as she appeared upon the threshold afforded immense delight to those who watched the meeting between the two girls. The old danger signals were all to the fore, as Peggy walked across the room--the peaked brows, pursed-up lips, and air of gracious patronage; but the dignity of later years seemed but to have added fresh weapons to her armament. A pigtail could never by any chance have been so imposing as the glossy coils which were now wound round the little head. The rustle of silken skirts heralded her approach in a manner infinitely more stately than the scamper of thin brown legs, and the wave of the little hand was emphasised by the twinkle of diamonds.

Esther grasped the back of her chair and gulped miserably. If only, only Edward had not been present, she could have faced the worst; but being still bashful and embarra.s.sed in his presence, she trembled at the thought of what was to come, and supplicated dumbly with her eyes.

"My dear Esther, a thousand felicitations! I do indeed rejoice in your happiness," murmured Peggy sweetly, and pecked her cheek with a condescending kiss. Esther's face disappeared for a moment, and came into view again with a fine access of colour and such an expression of anguish as seemed incomprehensible to those who did not know with what force Peggy's foot had been pressed on a pet corn, or had not heard the threatening whisper, "You _would_, would you? Wait till I get you alone!" which had belied the honeyed words. The two girls stood together in silence a moment longer, while the other occupants of the room gazed upon them with curious eyes; then Peggy held out her hand to the professor in her most fascinating manner. "We should not need an introduction, Professor Reid, since we are already united by a mutual love and admiration. I congratulate you truly. To be approved by Esther has ever been the ambition of her friends. To be chosen above all others is indeed an honour."

"I feel it so! I feel it so!" agreed the professor eagerly. He was charmed to discover so understanding an appreciation of his _fiancee_, and rose to the bait with innocent alacrity. "I feel very deeply the responsibility attached to such a trust and my own unworthiness to possess it, but I know that Esther will be patient with me and help me to overcome my failings. She is so wise, so gentle--"

"So sensible--"

"So sensible, as you observe; so kind, so patient--"

"So faithful to her resolutions, so strong, so _consistent_ in her actions!"

"Consistent, indeed!" echoed the professor, and rubbed his hands with satisfaction. He saw only a remarkably affable, agreeable little lady, who expressed herself with great propriety, and could not understand why at this last word there was a general "family coach" movement in the room, every one rushing hurriedly to take up a new position, or why Esther herself should hang her head with an expression of guilty embarra.s.sment. How was he to know how often in that self-same company his Esther had sung the praises of a single life, and vowed that no mere man should be allowed to stand between herself and her life's work.

Mrs Asplin took refuge at the tea-table, and rattled the cups with a trembling hand. The vicar tip-toed gently up and down in his carpet slippers, and, in his efforts to look solemn, dropped his chin until his face looked about half a yard long. Mellicent spluttered contentedly in a corner, and Rob rubbed his hands and whispered, "Go it, Peg!" at every fresh opportunity.

The conversation during tea-time was conducted mainly between the professor and Miss Saville, and that young woman's friends listened with amazed admiration to the high-flown eloquence of her remarks. Who would have believed that Peggy was so well read, or able to conduct so learned a conversation? Even her old instructor was surprised at her knowledge, forgetting for the moment that education is by no means finished when a girl leaves the schoolroom. Miss Peggy had a.s.sociated with many clever men during her four years' sojourn in India, had rubbed her sharp little wits against theirs, and not only heard but remembered what they had had to tell. She had likewise had abundant opportunity of cultivating her natural gift for conversation, and the little minx was by no means sorry to have an opportunity of quoting _a propos_ remarks in a.s.sent to the professor's axioms, and thus impressing old and new friends at the same time.

Rob scowled in the background and sc.r.a.ped his feet on the carpet, a sign of disapproval peculiarly trying to the nerves of his hostess; but then, as Mellicent sagely observed, Rob always _was_ furious if Peggy talked to any one but himself; so that it was no use taking any notice of _him_, and so soon as tea was over, Mrs Asplin ordered him away with the two older men, feeling sure that the girls were longing for a chat by themselves. The two stooping figures went down the garden-path, with Rob's stalwart form towering behind, and the three women who loved them watched from the window, and murmured benedictions in their hearts.

"Austin looks as young as the professor himself, not one bit more bowed.

He is so happy, bless him, to have gained another son."

"Edward will have a talk with father, and father will find out what he is like. How intellectual he looks! He has the true scholarly air, such a contrast to big, lumbering Rob."

"Two dear good pigmies, but the giant for me! What a comfort to see brain and muscle together! As a rule one seems to entirely absorb the other," sighed Miss Peggy happily, then turned to accost Esther with uplifted finger. "Esther, oh, Esther, who would have thought it?"

"It was very mean of you, Peggy, to make fun of me like that. I was most uncomfortable. If Edward had guessed you were making fun--"

"But he did not, you see, so no harm is done, and you could not expect to escape scot free. _You_ to get engaged, after all your vows and protestations! You to fall in love like an ordinary, ignorant girl!

You to condescend to marriage, when you might have spent your life teaching in a high school! Oh, Esther, Esther, well might I call you consistent! After this I shall have no more faith in strong-minded women."

"Don't call her strong-minded! I won't have it; it sounds too unlovable for my dear, good girl!" cried Esther's mother fondly, and then immediately contradicting herself; "And indeed she would need to be strong-minded," she declared, "to venture to many a literary man.

Tiresome creatures! that they are, always living in the clouds and coming in late for meals. An aunt of my own married an author, who ruined his health poring over his desk from morning to night, and half- way through the night into the bargain. Her great object in life was to tempt him out of doors, and at first she could never do it; but she was a woman of resource, and got the better of him in the end. She said she had nothing to do but to ring the dinner-bell, and out he would fly and scour the country-side for hours on end! So, indeed, she rang it regularly half-way through the afternoon, and the poor soul was too lost in dreams to discover the deception. He just thought he had been out for ten minutes' const.i.tutional, and that the meal had been kept hot until his return. I've known several literary couples in my time, but they were the only really happy pair, for not one woman in fifty has the wit to manage a man without letting him suspect it. Remember, Esther, when the professor is aggravating--"

"He never will be! Mother, how _can_ you?" protested the _fiancee_ indignantly, at which Mrs Asplin beamed with delight, Mellicent chuckled, and Peggy groaned in sepulchral fashion.

"Just wait and see. He'll wear you to a skeleton, my dear, and you never had too much flesh to boast of. I've heard tales about literary men which would make your flesh creep. Being late for meals is nothing--literally nothing! I'm told they never speak for months at a time when they are in the throes of composition, and habitually sit up at night writing until they fall asleep, knock over the lamp, and set the house on fire. You had better keep fire-escapes on every landing, for you are bound to need them."

It was of no use. Esther refused to be alarmed or even depressed. She sat smiling and complacent, her hands folded on her knee, her usually serious face softened into a radiance of contented happiness. Her state of illusion was such that, if any one had dared to hint that the professor might possibly mingle some trifling failing with his many virtues, she would have laughed the idea to scorn, and her companions realised as much, and made no further efforts to convince her.

"It's no use talking!" Mellicent cried in scorn. "She thinks he is perfect, and that we are all too stupid and ignorant to appreciate him.

It's the way all girls go on when they get engaged, and the only thing to do is to keep quiet, and let them find out their mistake. They are mad, poor dears, and don't know what they are doing. Let us talk about the wedding; that will be more interesting. I have simply ached to have a wedding in the family, and felt quite low because I thought mine would be the first, and I should be cheated out of the fun of being a bridesmaid and having all the fuss and excitement."

"I am afraid you will have very little of that, Mill, as it is, for it will be very, very quiet. I should hate a fashionable wedding, and feel that it took away half the solemnity of the service to have one's thoughts taken up with dress and furbelows. Edward wants to be married very soon, in two months, if possible, for he says he has waited long enough for a home, and there is no reason for delay. We are quite sure of our own minds, and there will be no difficulty in finding another governess for the little boys; so, mother dear, we must try to be ready for a very quiet wedding by that time. I shall not need an elaborate trousseau, you know; just a few plain, useful dresses."

Mellicent groaned, and threw up her hands in despair.

"Oh dear, what a thing it is to be sensible! Just listen to her, Peggy, with her 'few useful dresses.' I must say it's very hard on me, to have a sister who never takes my feelings into account. What is the good of having a wedding at all, if it isn't properly done with a choral service and bridesmaids and pretty frocks? I don't think you _could_ be so selfish, Esther, as to say I shall not be bridesmaid. I'd break my heart if you did. Just Peggy and me, and one or two of his relatives, and Rosalind Darcy, and the little boys as pages to hold up your train.

They would look sweet as pages, and every one has them now.--It's quite the proper thing."

But Esther laughed derisively at the very idea.

"Pages indeed! Trains indeed! I sha'n't have any train to carry. My own idea is to be married in my travelling-dress at eight o'clock in the morning, and drive straight to the station; but we must talk it over with Edward and see what he says. You can call yourself a bridesmaid, Mill, if you like to stand beside me, and Peggy will be there, of course, but she will understand that it is no lack of love which makes me ask her as a guest only. If there were going to be bridesmaids outside the family, she would be the first to be asked."

Peggy made a bow of gracious acknowledgment.

"And I am not so sure that there won't be even yet. Men, I have observed, are extremely prosaic about other people's weddings and sentimental about their own. The professor may object to the travelling-dress, and want to see you in the orthodox white, in which case Mellicent will have her desire, for, of course, you will give in to him in that, as in every other instance. I hope he does, for I must confess I like to see a bride in white."