Who was Lost and is Found

hand, reading or making believe to read, and with no longer any passion of tears or panic in her heart, but a vague misery, a thrill of expectation she knew not of what, of bad or good, of danger

of so many dangers. Yet everything was more or less as before. The mistress of the house gave no external sign of trouble. To anxious eyes, had there been any to inspect her, there would have appeared new lines in her countenance; but no eyes were anxious about her looks. She pursued her usual habits, as careful as always of the neatness of her house, her dress, her garden, everything surrounding her. Her visitors still came, though this was her hardest burden. To them she said nothing of her{147} son’s return. He withdrew hurriedly to his room whenever there was the smallest sign of any one approaching; and few of them were of his time. The neighbourhood had changed in fifteen years, as the face of the country changes everywhere. There were plenty of people in the neighbourhood who knew Robert Ogilvy, but these were not of the kind who go out in the afternoon to tea. The habit had not begun when he left home. There were wives of his own contemporaries among the ladies who paid their visits at the Hewan, but Robert was not acquainted with them. Of those whom he had known of old, the elder ladies were like his mother, receiving their little company, not going forth to seek it, and the younger on

inburgh every day, some large-limbed rapid lad would no doubt have darted into the house with a message from Susie at an inopportune moment, and found Robert. Susie herself was the only person now whom Mrs Ogilvy half dreaded, half hoped for. The secret could not have been kept from her—that would have been impossible; and from day to day her coming was looked for, not{149} without a rising of hope, not without a thrill of fear. In other circumstances Mrs Ogilvy would

om England who carried an indefinable atmosphere of suspicion about with her, as Robbie carried that whiff of tobacco. Mrs Ainslie took upon her an air of un

cept old friends, or where I am much neede

f the Hewan had been but one of{150} the people here!). And then she made a pause and put her head on one side, a

meaning th

athy, and you know very well whom I mean? Who could I mean but—— And oh

rriage with t

it: but still you do call him Mr Logan when you speak to him. Poor man! he has been so lonely ever since his poor wife died

er than most of the wives I see. His own daughter just the best and the kindest—and that h

een his drudge. Not{151} much wonder, therefore, that she could not be much of a companion to him. One can’t, my dear Mrs Ogilvy, be

at is just all that will come to my lips. If she is a lively companion or not, I cannot say, but my poor Susie has been a mo

s going to marry, which she should have done ten years ago. Her father has no rig

ilvy, with a slight choke in her throa

h, how can you ask? He proposed to her when she was twe

to speak to me of the man of her heart. Oh no,{152} he had not the boldness to do that! And is Susi

hich I don’t understand. I tell him he is frightened fo

s very like that,

hen he found that you were disinclined to do it, he—well, I fear he has shirked it again. Nothing

d be better

en of her own is better than acting mother to another person’s children. Oh yes, they are her own brothers and sisters now; but they w

ple in the world to meet and divine who Robert was, and publish it abroad, this interloper, this stranger, who had awakened a warmer feeling of hostility in Mrs Ogilvy’s bosom than any one had done before, was the last. She sat breathless, making no answer, while she heard him enter the house

so thankful as we ought to be—to th

, I know who it is. It is dear James—it is Mr Logan, I mean. I

y; but recoiled a step before the unknown personage, large, silent, with his big beard and watchful aspect,

making signs to her which she declined to notice. “This is my son,” she sa

dy, but she was evidently frightened, though it was difficult to tel

. “I did not mean to—disturb you, mothe

than ever anxious to please, and instinctively putting on her little panoply of airs and graces. “I had business. I had indeed. It was not a mere call meaning nothing. Your mother will tell

with his big beard and his rough clothes, had given Mrs Ogilvy the profoundly humiliating consciousness that he had ceased to look like a gentleman; but the woman did not think so. The woman made her little coquettish advances to him as if he had been a prince. This was

d? You are more hard-hearted than I expected. So then there is nothing for it but that I must do it myself. There, Mr Ogilvy! You see we have secrets

bert, not unresponsive, tho

bout women.” She had overcome her little tremor, but was more coquettish than ever. While she held his mother’s hand in hers, sh

ut the anger of a woman who sees them thus exerted in her very presence was still softened by the sensation that this woman, so experienced, still thought Robbie worth her while. He came

ou go with h

s only civil. Where has she come from?

s you say, and a person of importance here. She i

nister, and not poor old Logan, whom I—whom I remember so well. I’ve seen women like that, but not

the parish, and he has what you call fallen in love with her. There are no fule

ories did the name of Logan bring? or were there any of sufficient force to keep him musing, as he seemed to do, for a few minutes after. But at the end of that time he burst into a sudden laugh. “Old Logan!” he said; “poor old fellow!

o ill-mannered. She is not one I like,—but I am maybe prejudiced,{158} considering the

a place like this? and with old Logan!” He laughed again, and then

settled on another foundation. They are perhaps more in a woman’s eyes than in a man’s; I will tell you about

answer her? Private!—how can you be private in a place like this, where every fel

eep it to ourselves—and why

d; and he had his new clothes, which were at least clean and fresh: but{159} they had not made any transformation in his appearance, as she had hoped. Was there any look of a gentleman left in that large bulk of a man? The involuntary question went cold to Mrs Ogilvy’s heart. It still gave her a faint elation, however, to remember that Mrs Ainslie ha

the silence, it was with a startling question: “What do yo