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Was it that the mother's love had sprung from the ruins of the wife's happiness; and that while smiling gaily with her child, Sybilla Rothesay's thoughts were with the husband who, year by year, was growing more estranged, and whom, as she found out too late, by a little more wisdom, patience, and womanly sympathy, she might perhaps have kept for ever at her side?
That young lady, as soon as she heard Miss Rothesay's steps overhead, bounded to the half-open window, moving quite as easily on the injured foot as on the other. Eagerly she listened; and soon was rewarded by hearing Lyle's voice carolling pathetically down the road, the ditty, "Io ti voglio ben assai, Ma tu non pensi a me!" "Tis my song, mine! I taught him!" said Christal, laughing to herself.
"Why, mamma?" asked Olive. She was glad to lure her mother on to talk a little, if only to dispel the shadow which so ill became Mrs. Rothesay's still fair face. "You were too young to know anything then indeed, you are now, almost. But, somehow, I have learned to talk with you as if you were quite a little woman, Olive, my dear." "Thank you, mamma. And what made you dislike sweet Merivale?"
But he now thought less of her appearing in the world as Captain Rothesay's heiress, than of her being placed within the shadow of Alison Gwynne, and so reflecting back upon her father's age that benign influence which had been the blessing of his youth. He went on to tell Mrs. Gwynne more of his affairs and of his plans than he had communicated to any one for many a long year.
He remained so until they stood at Miss Rothesay's door. Then bidding her good-bye, he took her two hands, saying, as if inquiringly, "Olive?" "Yes," she answered, trembling a little but not much for her dream of happiness was fading slowly away, and she was sinking back into her old patient, hopeless self. That olden self alone spoke as she added, "Is there anything you would say to me?"
But, because I got drunk and lost my ship, I don't see how you are to blame for it." A look of relief came into Rothesay's face. Surely the man had not heard whom he had married, and there was nothing to fear after all. For a minute or so neither spoke, then Proctor picked up his cap. "Proctor," said Rothesay, with a smile, "take a glass of grog with me for the sake of old times, won't you!"
And so, though they did not meet again alone, and no words on the one awful subject passed between them, Harold began to come often to the Dell. Mrs. Rothesay's lamp of life was paling so gradually, that not even her child knew how soon it would cease to shine among those to whom its every ray was so precious and so beautiful more beautiful as it drew nearer its close.
Indeed, she was rarely at home, save when appearing, as now, on a hasty visit, which quite disturbed Mrs. Rothesay's placidity, and almost drove old Hannah crazy. "He is not come yet, you see," Christal said, with a mysterious nod to Charley Fludyer. "I thought we should outride him a parson never can manage a pony. But he will surely be here soon?"
She tried very hard properly to distinguish between the three Miss M'Gillivrays, daughters of Sir Andrew Rothesay's half-sister's son, and Miss Flora Anstruther, the old lady's third cousin and name-child, and especially little twelve-years-old Maggie Oliphant, whose grandfather was Mrs. Flora's nephew on the mother's side, and first cousin ta Alison Balfour.
For many years this enchanted portion of Captain Rothesay's past life had rarely crossed his mind; but when it did, it was always with a half-unconscious thought, that he himself might have been a better and a happier man, had his own beautiful Sybilla been more like Alison Balfour.
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