CHAPTER XXXVII.
_THE END_.
Roderick Brown's health rapidly improved under the milder and moregenial airs of Devon. The threatening symptoms of impending diseasewere speedily mitigated, and gradually disappeared altogether. Torquaywas but a quiet little place in those days. The carriages filled withmuch dressed company, and the depressing trains of hopelessly sick anddying, were not as yet. He and his sister could go in and out asinclination led them, and wander little disturbed by other sojournersalong the shore.
Roderick revelled in the ease and repose that comes of the cessationof long continued worry. He knew that there he could go, and say, anddo as he listed, with none to criticise; and for once after severalyears he found himself with nothing whatever to do but amuse himself.
He had frequent letters from the Laird, which told him all the news hecared to know of Glen Effick, whose dust he vowed to himself he hadshaken from his feet for ever. The beadle's appearance at churchin the new character of married man had overturned and shivered topieces the whole fabric of scandal under which he had lain, and theold gentleman grew quite humorous over the consternation andrecriminations of his brother elders in Session assembled. A scapegoathad at first appeared necessary to these wiseacres, and poor Josephwas selected as the victim on whom they might lay the punishment oftheir stupid credulity, sending it and him forth into the wildernessto be no more heard of or remembered; and it had taken all the Laird'sand the new minister's eloquence and influence to dissuade them fromtheir vindictive intentions, and let the poor wretch work out in peacethe heavy domestic retribution he had brought upon himself. 'I mightsay,' he added, 'that we all congratulate you; but you know we neversupposed that there was anything in it, and we only regretted that youshould have taken a nonsensical accusation so seriously to heart.'
'We all' Roderick understood to be the old gentleman's way ofincluding Sophia with himself, and he was greatly cheered. He kept upa constant correspondence with the Laird himself, and took care thatMary's letterwriting to Sophia should never flag, so that he felt byno means cut off from her. He might have adventured a letter to herhimself now, with far greater hope than he had felt on a previousoccasion, but he had begun to doubt and wonder as to his own futureplans in life, and he misgave as to his moral right to commit anotherto the hazy uncertainties he begun to see before him. His utteroutrooting from Glen Effick was not a process which could take placewithout leaving changes and permanent effects on his whole nature. Itwas no mere transplanting-process, in which the fibres retain someclod of the old for stay and nourishment until they are able to spreadthemselves and take hold on the new soil. His clerical brethren hadtreated him as a diseased and withered branch, a weed to be plucked upby the root and cast out of the vineyard; and finding himself thus outfor the moment, he was minded to look well about him before hereturned.
In England he came for the first time in contact with a nationalchurch differing from his own, and to which the traditions andprejudices of his early training were opposed. The written prayers,rubrical directions, and instrumental music, were all opposed to hisexperience and prepossessions, so much that, in a sense, and apartfrom controversial considerations, Prelacy and Popery had appeared asnearly convertible terms. But as the novelty wore off there was muchin them conducive to devout feeling, and he could not close his eyesto the signal and thousandfold examples of holy living whichflourished under the system. The extension of railways has assisted tobring similar suggestions to many of his fellow countrymen. Roderickbegan to realize what, perhaps, he would only have admitted in aspeculative but doubtful way before, that there are more folds thanone; or, to speak more orthodoxly, that the limits of the one fold arenot conterminous with those of one special pen in which some portionof the faithful flock have chosen to house themselves. He began toread more foreign theology than had been his wont, and with less ofhis old feeling that he knew more and better than any dweller in landsof a dimmer Gospel light could possibly tell him.
Mary, of course, was not long in hearing from Kenneth that baby Steelehad been reclaimed by its new found family, and the delighted fatherwrote her a letter overflowing with gratitude. He told her that he hadpersuaded Eppie, who understood her constitution so wonderfully, toremain in charge of his little Mary, and assured her that she shouldbe brought up to remember for life the debt of gratitude she owed toher name-mother's charity. Mary cried a little to think that she hadlost her winsome plaything, but admitted it was perhaps just as well.Lady Caroline might not have relished an infant in the house, not ofher kindred, and belonging to none knew whom.
In March came the county _Courier_, describing the marriage in highlife at Inchbracken, 'Augustus Wallowby, Esquire, to the beautiful andaccomplished,' etc., with all the great doings and high festival kepton the occasion. This was especially welcome news to Mary. She hadknown of it from the beginning, but she had feared something mighthappen to delay or break it off; the attachment seemed so unreal, tojudge from Kenneth's cynical observations made on the spot. Heracquaintance with Julia had been slight, and she felt as if they didnot like each other, though she could not have said why. Julia hadalways been quite civil, but Mary knew this, that she did notunderstand her (Julia) in the very least, Inchbracken was going tobecome her own home in the coming autumn, and she had feared that thepresence of Julia would not be conducive to her happy relations withher mother-in-law. But that was settled, and Mary received anoccasional billet from Lady Caroline, who felt lonely and dull nowthat she was deprived of Julia's companionship, and whose thoughtsnaturally turned to the coming daughter-in-law.
Roderick and Mary broke up their winter quarters soon after hearing ofJulia's marriage. They had no occasion to move northward before May orJune, but having as yet seen little of England, they determined tomove along the south coast by easy stages, stopping at famous towns ontheir way, and seeing all that they could--Exeter, Dorchester,Winchester, Portsmouth, the Isle of Wight, Canterbury, and finallyDover. They were sorely tempted to cross the straits, but it was nowMay, and if they were to see London, it was time for them to hurrythither, for they were due in Edinburgh at the end of the month.
They strolled down the pier to watch the steamer come in, and had theconsolation of seeing by the forlorn aspect of the landing passengers,that their inability to cross was not an unmixed evil. The wind blewfrom the east, and the confused chopping waves betokened a detestablepassage, and the seagreen visages of the people, as they followedtheir baggage into the customhouse sheds, showed plainly what they hadsuffered. In time there issued from the sheds a party, the chiefmembers of which struck them as familiar, though they could not recallwhen they had seen them. A lady, whose long ringlets had somewhat losttheir curl in the damp sea air, but who did not appear to be otherwisediscomposed, walked first; a courier came next carrying her reticule,her Murray, and her smelling bottle; a gentleman followed, dismal ofcountenance and rumpled in attire. Manifestly he had not been happyduring the voyage, and he appeared to have lain down or leant up inundesirable places. It appeared an exertion to him to drag himself tothe neighbouring 'Lord Warden,' whither their steps were bent, and yethe had other burdens to carry. On one arm hung a voluminous furcloak,--evidently a lady's,--and he had also a parasol. Clutched tohis side under the other arm was a French poodle, caught below theshoulders, with its after-part dangling helpless like a hairycaterpillar about his legs. It appeared to be in much discomfort,blinked piteously, and would have yelped and bitten also, but that thebreath was squeezed out of its body by the elbow which kept it inplace. A maid followed with a vast bundle of shawls, and then came aman with a folding stool, who lingered to watch the baggage beingconveyed to the hotel.
'Adolphe!' said the lady to the courier, 'go and bid Mr. Wallowby takebetter care of that poor Fidele. I _know_ he is handling the tenderdarling roughly! Men are so coarse and indifferent. I am _sure_ Iheard a whimper!'
The delivery of Adolphe's message was followed by a s
hrill yelp, cutshort in the middle by want of breath, as its aggravated bearer bentin a few more of its ribs with a jerk of his elbow, and wished it inthe sea. The lady stopped in her saunter and turned round.
'Augustus!' she said in a severe and injured tone, 'Had you not betterwait till you get indoors, before giving way to your disgustingbrutality of temper? The servants cannot possibly admire theexhibition.'
At this moment she descried the Browns, and her face cleared as sheapproached them with cordial alacrity.
'Oh, Miss Brown! or Mary you must allow me to call you, we are so soonto be cousins you know. So nice to meet old friends on setting foot indear Old England once more!' She was as enthusiastic over her returnas if she had been abroad for years; but then she knew Mary had nevercrossed the Channel, and this was the civillest way to remind her ofit.
Mary returned her salutation with as much effusion as she could callup, and then turned to greet Mr. Wallowby who stood a step behind,like the attendant of a princess on the stage. He could only bowhimself, with a weakly smile to his encumbered hands and arms, forthere was a vicious twitch about Fidele's mouth and eye, which warnedhim that any relaxation of watchfulness or elbow would be followed bya snap or perhaps an ugly bite.
'Ah! To be sure you know each other! I had forgotten that. Met atAuchlippie last summer, of course. It was there _we_ met first, too,by the way, in our days of young love and inexperience. How long agoit all seems now! And how droll! Does it not, Wallowby?'
'Very droll,' returned the husband in a dull and absent voice, as ifhe might have added, 'And very wretched, too,' but had still so muchself-respect as kept him from parading his disappointment.
He had tasted more of gall than sweetness during his honeymoon, andhad found himself matched to so expert a manager that it was harder tostruggle than submit; and he had meekly subsided into poodle-bearerand banker before the honeymoon was half gone through. Julia made nopretence of admiring him now, and this was so strange an experiencethat he worshipped her for her superiority, and probably loved her insome weak and querulous fashion. Do not people love and reverence allthe queer idols they set up, if only they are strong and heavy enoughto crush their worshippers? But Julia would have none of hisendearments or devotion. They bored, and after a few days did not evenamuse her. Adolphe the courier spoke French and Italian, and shepractised herself in those tongues under his direction, which wasbetter than talking vapid sentiment with her husband; and so long astheir expenditure was liberal, there were plenty of talkativeforeigners--counts--princes--all sorts of interesting creatures to behad, who conversed delightfully, and were so romantic, realizing toher mind some of the most charming passages in the French novels shedoted on. Thus Julia enjoyed her tour immensely, and was returninghome in the best of good humour, prepared to queen it over the MissesKettlebotham and all the people who should come within her circle.
Roderick stood in the back-ground. A distant bow was all therecognition he either expected or received from the lady, and whenthey moved on he followed with Wallowby. He offered to relieve him ofsome of his burdens, but the poor man declined--he clung to hisservice as the only hold left him on the woman he had married--thoughhe did wish that something would happen to Fidele; that its morningcream, for instance, would disagree with its liver, and that it mightshortly die.
The Browns parted with their friends at the hotel door, and hastenedto London, whence in due time they returned to Scotland.
There is little to record in what afterwards befell them. Likethose fortunate nations which have little or no history, their liveswere happy, monotonous to the onlooker, but full of various andengrossing interest to themselves. Mary returned to Inchbracken asdaughter-in-law in the autumn, and Lady Caroline speedily ceased toregret that her son had not made a more splendid alliance.
Roderick met the Laird and his family in Edinburgh, where the Lairdwas a delegate from his Presbytery to the General Assembly, and beforethe young man well knew it, he had said all that was in his mind bothto Sophia and her father. He spent two years in Germany to the nosmall anxiety of Mrs. Sangster, who felt certain that his principleswould be sapped, and that he would come back a rationalist, or imbuedwith peculiar German views, whatever that may mean. But on his returnhe was called to an influential city charge, and duly married,realizing in the end the original hopes of that worthy but somewhatmixed old lady for the wellbeing of her daughter--a comfortableprovision for this life, and the glorious certainties of a minister'swife for that which is to come.
Roderick has preached and published many remarkable sermons; he ishighly respected for personal piety; and as his lucky star has morethan once interposed to prevent his being made a professor, there isevery likelihood that he will live to a good old age in peace,contentment, and universal esteem.
THE END.
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