Who was Lost and is Found

offered her the usual unconscious welcome which that modest house in its natural condition held out to every comer, it was with a pan

ather too much for her, to realise these expectations, eager, full of love and hope. Her heart fluttered a little: the light went out of her eyes for{113} a moment; she sat down, all the strength gone out of her. But this was only for a moment. “To be sure, Janet,” she said, “he has gone in to Edinburgh to—see about his luggage. I mean, to get hims

with you, mem, when you

Mrs Ogilvy, feeling her

aited, mem, till

liked best to be free, to take his own way—and I hope t

but so soon, afore he has got accustomed to

is siller in his pouch?”

s mother, “and cracks about everything. He just showed me in his hand—as many notes as would build a kirk. He said: ‘See how liberal——’” Janet stopped here, a little confuse

going,—there was nothing out of the way about it that you should meet me with such a long f

id Janet—“no ill: I never

ver be able to get back to his dinner. I hope he’ll get something comfortable to eat in Edinburgh. You can keep bac

said Janet, doggedly, “as you did before

r bedroom, they were soon wiped away and left no traces. Robbie could not be tied to her apron-strings. She knew that well, if Janet did not know it. And what could be more natural than that he s

effort, counting the trains, and making out that before five o’clock it would be vain to look for him. He would have to go to the tailor’s, and to buy linen, and perhaps shoes, and a hat—maybe other things which do not in a moment come to a woman’s mind. No; it could not be till five o’clock, or perhaps even six. He would have a great many things to do. She wo

have things explained to him, and who was doubtless coming now to ask if she had been ill yesterday,—for when had it happened before that she had not been in her usual place in the kirk? She sat down faint and sick, but after a moment came round again, saying to herself that it would have been impossible for Robbie to get back so soon, and that she richly deserved a disappointment that she had brought on herself.{117} When Mr Logan came in she was seated in her usual chair (she had moved it from its old place since Robert seemed to like that, placing for him a bigger chair out of the dining-room, which suited him better), and having her usual looks, so that he began by saying that he need not

it possible that it was only on Saturday—the day that was now

g up. “Would she have anything to tell you? I’m th

8} upright-minded, well-thinking woman. I will not s

“Two-and-thirty well-chappit, as the poor folk say. She sho

lvy, indignant, “with you and your family to look after? And never mot

I told you before her health is giving way under it,” the minister said. He spoke with a li

s of that,” Mr

nce then. Mrs Ogilvy, you’re a great authority with Susie, and the parish has much confidence in you. I would like you to be the first to know—and

to marry again,

nance growing red, the complacent smile stealing to

was very clear to see—— bo

e said, the colour deepening, and t

t my advice would be for, I cannot guess, Mr Log

well, very near it. Yes, very near it. I

o. And what do you want wit

preoccupation, and that he had no leisure at his comman

stood in her way, you may say. She’s been tangled with the boys—and me. There’s no companion for a man, Mrs Og

going to do for Susie, Mr Logan? A sister that keeps your house, you just say Thank

said, giving his severe j

y to marry her, then

has ever been wanting,” said

everity. “Who is to see the callants off to Edinburgh every morning, and learn th

painful to me,” said Mr Logan. “Th

Logan,” said Mrs Ogilv

grand lady, as you all suppose. She is just a sweet

lessons, and be up in the morning to give the

he said—“not the least need. The servant that has been with them all their days is just very well capable

er arms with a cry. “

aughters of clergymen—but, I confess, it’s clergymen of the other c

ully. “I did not think, Mr Logan, that you, that are c

sought after by the very best. The English have not our sil

ding to the English way. You’re a Scotch minister. But if all this is to be done, I’m

rry,” the mi

r she will or not? There might be{122} more reasons than one for

marrying. Alas, alas! what would she think of him now if she saw him, and h

rceived that it was as much for Susie I was thinking as for myself. She will never break the knot till it’s do

nt. The little ones in a school

but not old enough or dear enough t

e him brought face to face with Mr Logan without any warning or preparation. “Go away! for we will never agree on this point. I’ve nothing to say against you for marrying. If yo

help me, the

elp you? I have nothing

ugh you’re so severe. There is nobody like you that could help me with Su

r duty,” Mrs

es, his big beard, his air of recklessness and vagabondism, should appear! She felt herself walking before him to the door, involuntarily moving him on, indicating his path. I think he was too deeply occupied with his own affairs to note this; bu

d been a mistake. How often, how often had it been a mistake! She lingered now, sitting still, resting from the agitation that had seized upon her till the minister’

een years, things that at his age were just the things a young man would remember; or perhaps the tailor might be altering something for him that he had to go back to try on, or perhaps—— It would be all right anyway. What did six o’clock matter, or half-past seven, or what

hat she could call her without rising from her seat, w

detained, maybe even later than this. If we said eight o’clock for once? It’s a late hour; but better that than giving him a bad dinner,

ut and see if he was coming: for it’s very true, you say, a dinner in the

her mistress, peremptorily. “I’l

ning, when it was always her custom to go out and have a talk with Andrew about the flowers. She did not feel as if she could move to-night—her feet were cold and like lead, her cheeks burning, and her heart clanging in her throat.{126} Nevertheless the bond of custom being on her, and a s

r them, Andrew, af

od for them,

everything as soon as my

“there was plenty sa

ams are coming o

they’re common thing

Ogilvy; “I like them better than

for tastes,” Andrew sa

the silly flowers! though maybe it would rain before the morning, and they would not need it. Then Andrew—though nobody could say he was quick, honest man!—finished his task and went in. And there was a great quiet, the quiet of the falling night, though the long light remained the same. And the time passed for th

aten nothing,

en to your kitchen, and do what I

newspaper in which Mr{128} Somerville had showed her her son’s name. She took it with her half consciously when she went down-stairs, but did not read it, being too much occupied with the dreadful whirl of her own thoughts. Nine o’clock passed too, and the colourless hours ran on. And then there was the sound all over the house of Andrew fulfilling his orders, shutting up every window and door. When he came to the parlour to shut the window by which she sat, his little mistress, always so quiet, almost flew at him. “Man, have you