CHAPTER XIX. VICTOR FROM VANQUISHED ISSUES
Now that everything was settled Eric wished to give up teaching
and go back to his own place. True, he had "signed papers" to
teach the school for a year; but he knew that the trustees would
let him off if he procured a suitable substitute. He resolved to
teach until the fall vacation, which came in October, and then
go. Kilmeny had promised that their marriage should take place
in the following spring. Eric had pleaded for an earlier date,
but Kilmeny was sweetly resolute, and Thomas and Janet agreed
with her.
"There are so many things that I must learn yet before I shall be
ready to be married," Kilmeny had said. "And I want to get
accustomed to seeing people. I feel a little frightened yet
whenever I see any one I don't know, although I don't think I
show it. I am going to church with Uncle and Aunt after this,
and to the Missionary Society meetings. And Uncle Thomas says
that he will send me to a boarding school in town this winter if
you think it advisable."
Eric vetoed this promptly. The idea of Kilmeny in a boarding
school was something that could not be thought about without
laughter.
"I can't see why she can't learn all she needs to learn after she
is married to me, just as well as before," he grumbled to her
uncle and aunt.
"But we want to keep her with us for another winter yet,"
explained Thomas Gordon patiently. "We are going to miss her
terrible when she does go, Master. She has never been away from
us for a day--she is all the brightness there is in our lives.
It is very kind of you to say that she can come home whenever she
likes, but there will be a great difference. She will belong to
your world and not to ours. That is for the best--and we
wouldn't have it otherwise. But let us keep her as our own for
this one winter yet."
Eric yielded with the best grace he could muster. After all, he
reflected, Lindsay was not so far from Queenslea, and there were
such things as boats and trains.
"Have you told your father about all this yet?" asked Janet
anxiously.
No, he had not. But he went home and wrote a full account of his
summer to old Mr. Marshall that night.
Mr. Marshall, Senior, answered the letter in person. A few days
later, Eric, coming home from school, found his father sitting in
Mrs. Williamson's prim, fleckless parlour. Nothing was said
about Eric's letter, however, until after tea. When they found
themselves alone, Mr. Marshall said abruptly,
"Eric, what about this girl? I hope you haven't gone and made a
fool of yourself. It sounds remarkably like it. A girl that has
been dumb all her life--a girl with no right to her father's
name--a country girl brought up in a place like Lindsay! Your
wife will have to fill your mother's place,--and your mother was
a pearl among women. Do you think this girl is worthy of it? It
isn't possible! You've been led away by a pretty face and dairy
maid freshness. I expected some trouble out of this freak of
yours coming over here to teach school."
"Wait until you see Kilmeny, father," said Eric, smiling.
"Humph! That's just exactly what David Baker said. I went
straight to him when I got your letter, for I knew that there was
some connection between it and that mysterious visit of his over
here, concerning which I never could drag a word out of him by
hook or crook. And all HE said was, 'Wait until you see Kilmeny
Gordon, sir.' Well, I WILL wait till I see her, but I shall look
at her with the eyes of sixty-five, mind you, not the eyes of
twenty-four. And if she isn't what your wife ought to be, sir,
you give her up or paddle your own canoe. I shall not aid or
abet you in making a fool of yourself and spoiling your life."
Eric bit his lip, but only said quietly,
"Come with me, father. We will go to see her now."
They went around by way of the main road and the Gordon lane.
Kilmeny was not in when they reached the house.
"She is up in the old orchard, Master," said Janet. "She loves
that place so much she spends all her spare time there. She
likes to go there to study."
They sat down and talked awhile with Thomas and Janet. When they
left, Mr. Marshall said,
"I like those people. If Thomas Gordon had been a man like
Robert Williamson I shouldn't have waited to see your Kilmeny.
But they are all right--rugged and grim, but of good stock and
pith--native refinement and strong character. But I must say
candidly that I hope your young lady hasn't got her aunt's
mouth."
"Kilmeny's mouth is like a love-song made incarnate in sweet
flesh," said Eric enthusiastically.
"Humph!" said Mr. Marshall. "Well," he added more tolerantly, a
moment later, "I was a poet, too, for six months in my life when
I was courting your mother."
Kilmeny was reading on the bench under the lilac trees when they
reached the orchard. She stood up and came shyly forward to meet
them, guessing who the tall, white-haired old gentleman with Eric
must be. As she approached Eric saw with a thrill of exultation
that she had never looked lovelier. She wore a dress of her
favourite blue, simply and quaintly made, as all her gowns were,
revealing the perfect lines of her lithe, slender figure. Her
glossy black hair was wound about her head in a braided coronet,
against which a spray of wild asters shone like pale purple
stars. Her face was flushed delicately with excitement. She
looked like a young princess, crowned with a ruddy splash of
sunlight that fell through the old trees.
"Father, this is Kilmeny," said Eric proudly.
Kilmeny held out her hand with a shyly murmured greeting. Mr.
Marshall took it and held it in his, looking so steadily and
piercingly into her face that even her frank gaze wavered before
the intensity of his keen old eyes. Then he drew her to him and
kissed her gravely and gently on her white forehead.
"My dear," he said, "I am glad and proud that you have consented
to be my son's wife--and my very dear and honoured daughter."
Eric turned abruptly away to hide his emotion and on his face was
a light as of one who sees a great glory widening and deepening
down the vista of his future.
THE END.
