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Margaret Greylston had been enabled, in the strength of "that grace which cometh from above," to forgive her brother freely, yet she scarcely hoped that he would give her the opportunity to tell him this. "Good-morning," John Greylston said, curtly and chillingly enough to his sister.
We will think and say no more about it;" and, as though he were perfectly satisfied, and really wished the matter dropped, John Greylston turned to his papers again. So Miss Margaret was silent.
Annie Bermond let the curtain fall very slowly forward, and buried her face in her hands; but the two old pilgrims by her side, John and Margaret Greylston, looked at each other with a smile of hope and joy.
Ah! these way-side thorns are little, but sometimes they pierce as sharply as the gleaming sword. "Good-morning, John!" At the sound of that voice, Mr. Greylston turned suddenly from the book-case, and his sister was standing near him, her face lit up with a sweet, yet somewhat anxious smile.
And Margaret Greylston, as she lay with a throbbing head and an aching heart upon her snowy pillow, thought the hours of that bright afternoon and evening very long and very weary.
Those loving, silent attentions to his wishes John Greylston had noted, and they rankled like sharp thorns in his soul. He was not worthy of them; this he knew. How he loathed himself for his sharp and angry words! He had it in his heart to tell his sister this, but an overpowering shame held him back.
"And once again, I tell you I will do as I please in this matter," and this was said sharply and decidedly. Margaret Greylston said not another word, but pushing back her chair, she arose from the breakfast-table and went quickly from the room, even before her brother could call to her. Reuben and his companion had just got in the last meadow when Miss Greylston overtook them.
"Never mind," authoritatively said Miss Greylston; "do just as you are bid, without any remarks;" and she turned away, and went down the meadow path, even as she came, within quick step, without a bonnet, shading her eyes from the morning sun with her handkerchief. John Greylston still sat at the breakfast-table, half dreamily balancing the spoon across the saucer's edge.
Just when you have gained your will, you want to turn about; but, love, the trees shall not come down. I will give them to you; and you cannot refuse my peace-offering; and never, whilst John Greylston lives, shall an axe touch those pines, unless you say so, Margaret." He laughed when he said this, but her tears were falling fast.
Wasn't it droll, though, that lecture being cut so short?" and Annie threw herself down in the great cushioned chair, and laughed heartily. Annie Bermond was the youngest of John and Margaret Greylston's nieces and nephews. Her beauty, her sweet and sunny temper made her a favourite at home and abroad. John Greylston loved her dearly; he always thought she looked like his chosen bride, Ellen Day.
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