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Updated: May 12, 2025
One moment her heart melted, thinking of the garden at Oldchurch, the thorn-tree at the river-side, and afterwards of the long-closed grave at Harbury, over which the grass waved in forgotten silence. Then, pressing Ailie to her bosom, she resolved that while her own life lasted she would be a faithful and most loving mother unto poor Sara's child. A Mother!
She felt in that unquiet, dreary state of mind which precedes a great change, when all preparations are complete, and there is nothing left to be done but to ponder on the coming parting. She could not rest anywhere, or compose herself to anything; but wandered about the house, thinking of that last day at Oldchurch, and vaguely speculating when or what the next change would be.
The young damsels of Oldchurch haughty boarding-school belles, whom she had always rather feared, when Sara's hospitality brought her in contact with them were now grown into perfect court beauties. She was quite alarmed by their dignity, and they scarcely noticed poor little Olive at all. Sara, sweeping across the room, appeared to the eyes of her little friend a perfect queen of beauty.
Therein she told how she had found "such a dear, loving, gentle thing; a girl, not pretty even slightly deformed; but who was an amusing companion, and to whom she could confide everything. Such a blessing in that dull place, Oldchurch!" Poor little Olive!
The tall youth took it eagerly, and as he looked down upon her, something in his expression reminded her of a face she had herself once looked down upon her little knight of the garden at Oldchurch. In the impulse of the moment she called him again by his old name "Lyle! Lyle Derwent!" "Yes, it is indeed I!" cried the young man. "Oh, Miss Rothesay, you can't tell how glad I am to meet you again."
He thought with tenderness of his home of his wife, and of his "little Olive;" and then, travelling by a rather circuitous route, his thoughts rested on Harold Gwynne. "The kind-hearted, generous fellow! I will take care he is requited double. And to-morrow, before even I reach Oldchurch, I will go to my lawyer's and make all safe on his account." "To-morrow!"
She listened; it was the rumbling of carriage wheels along the road a rare circumstance; for the people of Oldchurch, if not individually devout, lived in a devout atmosphere, which made pleasure-drives on the day of rest not "respectable." A momentary hope struck Olive that it might be her father returning home. But he was a strict man; he never travelled on Sundays.
When Captain Rothesay's affairs were settled, the sole wreck of his wealth that remained to his widow and child was the small settlement from Mrs. Rothesay's fortune, on which she had lived at Stirling. So they were not left in actual poverty. Still, Olive and her mother were poor poor enough to make them desire to leave prying, gossiping Oldchurch, and settle in the solitude of some great town.
And then, through the silence, she heard the Oldchurch bells awaking again, in the dull minute-peal which told that service-time was ended, and the afternoon funerals were taking place. Olive, shuddering, closed her ears against the sound, and then, gazing out once more, she saw her mother stand at the gate. Mrs. Rothesay looked up at the window and smiled.
His economical habits became those of the wildest extravagance extravagance in which his wife and daughter were not likely to share. Little they saw of it either, save during his rare visits to his home. Then he either spent his evenings out, or else dining, smoking, drinking, disturbed the quiet house at Oldchurch.
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