Chapter IV: An Old Friend

"And I perceived no touch of change"
. . . . . . . .
"But found him all in all the same."
Tennyson.

"MY dear girl, you must come with me to Lady Graeme's At Home this afternoon."

"Oh, why?" asked Rowena, looking up from her desk with a wrinkle between her brows.

"Well, she made a special point of your accompanying me. She lost her heart to you the other afternoon when she was here. Now I let you off a good many places, but not this one. Will you be ready about half-past four?"

"If you wish."

And so it came to pass that Rowena found herself, on a foggy November afternoon, in a crowded drawing-room in Palace Gate. She knew many of the young people assembled there, for Lady Graeme, like Mrs. Burke, though old herself, loved to surround herself with the young. It was not a very staid gathering. There was a distinctly rowdy element in it. Every one smoked, and voices were loud and voluble. Rowena got as near the door as she could. She hoped she could slip out into an emptier ante-room, but first one and then another detained her. Lady Graeme's second son, Alan by name, was a special crony of hers. He had stayed at Minley Court on several occasions, and was a fresh frank young fellow in the Scots Guards. He now slipped into a seat close to her.

"Thanks be, that you are here, at any rate," he said. "I do loathe the mater's crushes so. I hardly see you anywhere in town. Don't you go about?"

"I'm not a gadder by choice," said Rowena cheerfully.

"You don't look it! Did you ever see such a set of women as are here this afternoon? I'm getting fed up with it. I should like to go off game hunting in Somaliland or in the Rockies."

"Why don't you do it when you get your leave? I agree with you, one does get fed up with all this. So much energy wasted."

"Oh, I know what you think of us. You and I have had some straight talks. Why don't you sober your giddy old friend over there. My word! she might be just eighteen!"

Mrs. Burke was the centre of a noisy group—the other end of the room. One of the men was taking off a well-known parliamentary character, and his audience was convulsed with laughter.

Rowena looked across at her and sighed; then she turned to her young companion and smiled.

"Well, you see what life does to those who grow old in this atmosphere! Get your own soul into fresher and clearer air, and do something before you die. Isn't it Young that says:

"Time wasted is existence—us'd is life."

"You ought to have lived in the mediæval days," laughed young Alan. "How you would have buckled on your man's sword and thrust him forth! Do you seriously think running down a tiger is more soul inspiring than dancing the Tango?"

"Your soul would get a chance of breathing. Life without a pause is so paralysing."

"We always get into metaphysics—you and I! Hulloo, here is Macdonald by all that's wonderful! The mater has beguiled him here under false pretences; he'll never stand this. Take a good look at him. He saved my life out in France—ought to have got a V.C. for it. He's a cousin of ours."

Rowena took one look at the tall figure coming in at the door, and a faint flush rose to her cheeks, a breath of Highland air seemed to accompany him. He looked irreproachable in his London clothes, and yet there was some indescribable stamp about him that set him apart from the men around him.

"Let me introduce him," said her young companion.

"But I know him," said Rowena.

Alan Graeme started forward and shook hands warmly with the General.

"Awfully good of you to come! The mater's just gone into the tea room; here's some one who knows you."

General Macdonald met Rowena's bright friendly eyes, with grave pleasure in his own.

He held out his hand to her.

"It seems a long time since we met," he said. "I have brought Mysie to town for a week or two."

Alan was seized hold of by a young girl in a startling dress of black and white striped velvet, very open at the neck and back; very short in the skirt.

"Oh, you slacker!" she exclaimed, putting her hand on his shoulder. "Don't you know that two lady loves await you in that further corner. They have sent me to fetch you. You promised to sing for one, and—"

They moved off.

General Macdonald's look of disgust made Rowena smile.

"Are you at home in this company?" he asked abruptly; "it somehow does not seem to fit you."

Then before she had time to reply he went on:

"I am told I am old-fashioned and censorious; but a scene like this repels me. Are these the mothers of our future generation? May God help me to keep Mysie out of fashionable society."

"Amen," breathed Rowena.

"Give me news of the Highlands," she said.

He did not respond, but looked at her in puzzled bewilderment.

"Do you often attend these functions? I feel like a fish out of water. Is there nowhere we can get away from this smoke and heat? I came to see my cousin."

"Shall we go into the tea room? I believe she is there." But the tea room was overcrowded, and they stood for a moment in the corridor outside. He told her he had brought Mysie up for a fortnight and they were staying with an old cousin of his in Eton Place. Then he asked her about herself, and Rowena pointed out Mrs. Burke to him.

"I live with her, as a companion-secretary."

General Macdonald looked at Mrs. Burke with her golden wig and rather loud style of dress. He noted the noisy circle in which she was, and he said shortly and sternly, "I am sorry to hear it."

Rowena's eyes first twinkled, then softened:

"I do like you," she said audaciously, "when you act the stern friend."

He did not smile.

"Mysie will be wild to get hold of you. Can you come round and see us?"

"I think I might perhaps to-morrow, darling Mysie! I expect she is grown."

He was silent. Rowena was conscious that she was the subject of his close scrutiny.

"You have been through trouble since we met. I did not know your address or would have written you a line of sympathy. Your brother was a great friend of mine."

"I know. Thank you. My sister-in-law has gone to live with her mother, so I am on my own."

"And you can do no better than this?"

"You are judging me hardly."

Rowena's tone was rather proud, though her heart was beating and her pulses throbbing strangely. She rather resented the effect that this tall grave friend of hers had upon her.

He smiled, and his smile warmed her heart.

"Perhaps I am. You must tell me all about yourself."

At this moment Lady Graeme came up, and whilst she was greeting her cousin, Mrs. Burke seized hold of Rowena.

"I am off. Come along. I have promised to go to the Ford Curries. If you don't want to come with me, you can go home."

So Rowena left the house with her, and when she got home felt strangely dispirited.

"He will never understand. How can I explain? How can I tell him that I am trying to dig out from the mud a treasure which has been lost. It's like the woman in the Bible. But he only sees the racket and the dust: he doesn't know the silver bit is there."

The next day she asked permission from Mrs. Burke for an afternoon to herself, and set off for Eton Place.

She was shown upstairs into a rather gloomy drawing-room, but in a moment Mysie flashed into the room, and in her old impulsive way flung herself upon her.

"Oh, you darling! I can't believe it's you. I yelled when Dad told me, and Cousin Bel asked if I was trying to do the Highland Fling. Cousin Bel has a cold and is in bed, and Dad and I sit downstairs in the smoking-room. There's no fire up here. Come along down."

Rowena found that Mysie was growing into a very handsome girl. She had developed in many ways, and it was pretty to see her with her father; there was absolute confidence and understanding between them.

"He has got younger, and she has got older," was Rowena's conviction. She took Rowena downstairs, and General Macdonald rose to greet her with a bright smile of welcome.

He pulled an easy-chair before the fire for her, and Mysie squatted down on the hearthrug and leant her brown curly head against her knees.

"Isn't this comfy, just us three! Dad and I often wanted you when the days got dark after you left us. And do you know I've got a new name for you. I used to call you the prisoner—now I call you Miss Mignon. I learn French now, so I know a lot of fresh words!"

Rowena laughed.

"Oh, Flora, it is nice to hear you talk again! Tell me all you have been doing."

Mysie was only too delighted to chatter away. She appealed to her father very often, and he sat for the most part listening to his small daughter, but sometimes putting in a word himself.

"Dad says you live with an old lady now. Couldn't you leave her, and come and stay with us for a nice long visit? Dad and I thought you were still in India; we would have come to see you long ago, wouldn't we, Dad, if we had known you were in London."

"I'm sorry to tell you that young Macintosh is leaving us," said General Macdonald. "He has been offered a Church in Edinburgh. That is one of the causes which has brought us to town. We are going to try another governess, but we have decided that she must be quite old; somebody who will be content to sit at home over the schoolroom fire whilst Mysie and I tramp the country together."

"I hope you will find her," said Rowena gaily. "But I am sorry the Macintoshes are leaving. I liked them so much."

Then she turned to General Macdonald.

"Are you more at home now? Perhaps you have finished your work?"

"It finished me unfortunately. I had a breakdown, and was ordered back to my native air. A quiet life is the only thing I'm fit for."

"Oh, I'm sorry, and yet I know Mysie must be glad—and your tenants!"

"That's a fact!" said Mysie, nodding her head.

"And how are the Kelpies and the fairies?" Rowena inquired.

Mysie began to tell her a fresh story she had heard from an old Highland woman of the fairies' existence.

"How is your Highland book?" asked General Macdonald.

"Oh," said Rowena with a little sigh, "I have never got any forrarder. I took it out to India with me, meaning to complete it there; but somehow I couldn't get on with it. The atmosphere was lacking, and then poor Ted died, and I haven't had the heart to touch it since."

"You must finish it."

"Perhaps I will. You have stirred me up afresh."

Presently Mysie slipped away.

"I'm going to hurry up tea," she said importantly. "Dad and I think Cousin Bel's old servants all go to bed in the afternoon. None of them can be found anywhere till tea-time, and sometimes we don't have it till half-past five!"

When she had gone, General Macdonald turned to Rowena. "Why did you not answer that letter of mine?"

"What letter? I remember your saying just before I left Abertarlie, that you would either come over again, or write, but you did neither."

"I most certainly wrote. Did you never receive it?"

He got up from his chair and paced the floor in agitation, and Rowena felt breathless, as if she were on the point of a crisis in her life.

"Never. Letters sometimes go astray, and I am afraid poor Sandy was addicted to the bottle."

"I wrote, and took it for granted from your silence that—"

He broke off suddenly, and looked at her strangely. "Don't think me interfering. I can't beat about the bush. But I cannot bear to think of you with that painted woman and in her noisy set. I know her well by name. My young friend Graeme has talked of her. If you value the things you once did, how can you live with her? I do ask you as a personal favour to leave her."

Rowena was astounded and dismayed by this sudden turn to their talk. She was proud, and she seemed to General Macdonald to stiffen from head to foot.

"I have my reasons for staying with her," she said coldly. "You may doubt and misunderstand my motives, but at present I have no intention of changing my life."

"I am sorry," he said simply, and at this unfortunate juncture Mysie danced back into the room.

"Tea is coming. I coaxed and coaxed old stiff Mary till she said she would bring it at once. And I'm going to pour out, Dad, and we can just imagine we are home in Abertarlie."

But conversation was dead. Mysie chattered away apparently unconscious of the effort it was to her elders to respond to her. And very soon Rowena rose to go. She felt bitterly hurt by General Macdonald's words, and was not inclined to justify herself in his eyes.

As she walked home alone, she said to herself: "Oh what a touchy fool I am! He saw me at that rowdy party, and did not know it was quite an exception, my being there. He thought it was my habit, my life! How can I tell him why I'm not going to leave Mrs. Burke yet! I hardly dare put it into words, but I've prayed so hard, that I will not despair. No, if he misjudges me he must. Oh, how I wish I knew what was in that letter! In any case he is cautious, and canny like a Scot! I hate his cold calculating mood. I almost feel as if I never want to see him again!"

But if Rowena persuaded herself that she did not want to see him again, he most certainly wanted to see her. For the next morning at twelve o'clock he called at the house and asked for her. Mrs. Burke had not left her room yet, but Rowena was hard at work in the library. She gave a little sigh when she heard who was in the drawing-room waiting to see her. She had had a sleepless night, wondering about the contents of the missing letter, regretting the way she had spoken to her old friend, turning over in her own mind if she had been right or wrong in electing to live with Mrs. Burke, and now hardly knowing in what frame of mind to meet him.

But the moment she entered the room, General Macdonald advanced in his most courteous and kindly manner.

"I have come round to apologize for the way I spoke to you yesterday afternoon. I had no right to dictate to you as to your choice in life. May I say in extenuation, it was only my extreme interest in you, my regard for your real welfare that made me so anxious and captious about your present surroundings."

Then Rowena smiled her old sunny smile.

"You treated me as a true friend should. I felt sorry that I had not an explanation I could give you. Perhaps one day I may be able to vindicate myself."

"Meanwhile, whilst we are in town will you give me the benefit of your counsel and advice? My cousin is old. She says, 'Send the child to school.' I tried that, as you know, with disastrous results. Could you—is it too much to ask of you? Could you interview some of these governesses for me? A man is at a disadvantage. I had one afternoon of it last week, and I can tell you I have been in tight corners in my life, and have had to face a good deal, but nothing equal to the horrors of that room behind the registry office, when one undesirable young woman appeared after the other in quick succession, and they all wanted so desperately to come!"

Rowena laughed outright. She pictured the scene.

"You poor man! Of course I will help you if I can. I wish I knew of some one suitable. I wonder—"

She stopped short. The remembrance of her visit to the North came to her.

"It is only a chance, but I do know of a nice woman—a governess. She is a niece of Mrs. Burke's."

"Oh, I hardly think she would suit me," said General Macdonald hastily.

Rowena smiled. "Please don't be so prejudiced. Mrs. Burke's father was a very saintly clergyman. Her sister is a most sweet woman, wife of a hard-worked vicar in Durham, and this woman is her daughter. She has the same sweet face and manners as her mother, but with more character I should say. She is at present looking after her nephew and niece, but she wants a situation as governess. She is certificated."

"Miss Falconer had very sweet manners."

"She is as different to Miss Falconer as chalk is to cheese. She is a real good woman. I know a genuine person when I see her. Couldn't you stop in Durham and interview her, on your return to Scotland? Let me write to her first."

"I wanted to have it all settled up before we leave."

"Well, if you would rather I went to a Registry for you, I will do so."

"Thank you very much. What do you think of Mysie?"

"She has grown and developed wonderfully."

"She is most intelligent—able to talk with me on any subject, and a most interesting companion. But she has a very strong will of her own."

"Like her father," said Rowena mischievously.

"Yes, but women are not required to have as strong wills as men."

"Oh, you old-fashioned person! If a strong will is a good thing why should we not share it? A weak woman very often makes a bad man! Don't try to eradicate the strength in Mysie's character."

"I don't agree with you. The weakness in woman awakens all the chivalry in man's nature. These strong-minded females are abhorrent to me. One of these would-be teachers of my child asked me if I did not believe in the emancipation of the female sex—now what did she mean by that? Mere clap-trap or real immorality!"

Then he checked himself.

"We won't discuss these questions. You and I always slipped into an argument, didn't we, in the old days? I shall be deeply grateful if you can help me. Mysie is to me now a cherished possession and I always consider I have to thank you for bringing me to my senses about her. Now before I go, we propose paying a visit to the Zoo to-morrow afternoon. Could you come with us?"

"I am afraid not," said Rowena regretfully. "It is Mrs. Burke's 'At Home' day to-morrow, and I must be here to help her."

"Mysie will be bitterly disappointed. Where do you go on Sunday?"

Rowena mentioned a certain Church not very far off.

"Canon Villars is a most earnest preacher," she said. "Have you ever heard him?"

"No, I'll bring Mysie round there!"

He got up to go.

"I must not transgress again; but if only you were with one of these philanthropic useful women of the day, how much happier you would be."

"You don't know Mrs. Burke," Rowena said gravely. "You only judge by outer appearances."

He looked at her with a flicker of a smile in his eyes.

"A tree is known by its fruits."

"Good-bye," said Rowena very sweetly. "I will let you have the last word, though it is a woman's prerogative."

At lunch, she told Mrs. Burke about the General's visit, and to her surprise that lady became quite enthusiastic.

"We'll send for Marion at once. I'll pay her fare! She can easily leave those young people for a day or two. It is too great a chance for her to miss. I should like to help her, poor thing, and that handsome General Macdonald must be a nice man to deal with. Let us ask him to dinner; we must get her here first. Nothing like striking whilst the iron is hot. Write directly after lunch, will you, and you had better enclose a cheque for travelling expenses. Don't you think you had better wire?"

"No," said Rowena, laughing, "the poor creature would be thoroughly mystified. You would like it all settled up by this time to-morrow now, wouldn't you?"

"You know how I hate to let the grass grow under my feet."

Rowena wrote the letter. She had been much impressed by Marion's personality and capability, and felt sure that if she agreed to go to Abertarlie, she would not be a failure there. "And oh," she thought with a little grimace of disgust at her own longing for the Highlands, "why did he not offer me the job, instead of wishing to relegate me to these useful philanthropical ladies of his acquaintance!"