Chapter IX: Auld Robin Gray

IN the meantime, our friend Emily wrote and received answers to her weekly letters, unconscious that while her own heart was buoyant, the members of the home circle were plunged in the deepest distress.

Mrs. Washburn reminded her husband of her dislike to family secrets. But in reference to the absent one, they at length concluded that her anxieties would be increased by her distance from home, and that the knowledge of their affliction might so absorb her thoughts, as to render her unfit for her school duties. She was now delightfully situated, and in the receipt of a handsome income, which, as her parents reflected, might become necessary for her, in case her father resigned his connection with the Missionary Association. It was decided therefore, to leave her in ignorance of the charges against her father's integrity, as long as it was possible to do so.

One morning, about a week subsequent to Cecilia's letter to her brother, the young lady made her appearance at the school, with an uncommonly animated countenance.

"I cannot stop to go in," she said to the servant. "I would like to see Miss Washburn one moment."

Emily soon appeared running down the stairs with some sheets of new music in her hand. She looked so sweet and kissable, with her school dress of plain buff cambric, and a tiny white apron, the narrow ruffle so daintily fluted, her hair as she stood in the sunlight, glowing and glistening with every movement, that her friend stood for a moment in silence, with her eyes riveted on the sweet vision. Then embracing her ardently, she exclaimed:

"How lovely you do look! But I can't stop even to expatiate on your charms. I came with a message from Judge Wilson. He has a friend from somewhere out west, who is to remain a few days, and he wants you to come over to tea, and sing for him this evening."

"I'll go with great pleasure," replied Emily, gaily. "Fortunately I have no other engagement. And please tell the Judge that I love him so much," (blushing a little as she spoke) "that I would do a great deal more besides singing, which affords me personal gratification, to oblige him or his friend. You know," she added, "that he and Mrs. Wilson have in a manner adopted me."

"So have I!" retorted Cecilia, with a merry laugh, as she kissed her friend once more, and ran down to the steps.

"Oh, by the way, I was to tell you that as we shall be out riding, Mark shall come for you in the carriage. Will you be ready at five?"

"Yes, if that isn't too early."

"Not a minute. Good-bye!"

Emily's salary was sufficient for the purchase of jewels and silks for the adornment of her person, but she was simple in her tastes, and the influence of her education had been such that, she recognized many higher uses for money than the mere gratification of her fancy in dress. In cold weather, merinos, or other soft fabrics, of pretty, modest shades, a clean linen collar and cuffs, and the stylish aprons which her own deft fingers wrought into these pretty shapes, was her invariable school dress, generally with a knot or bow of some bright color to give warmth to the whole. For visiting, she preferred black silk, which being suitable for any occasion, she also considered the most economical. During her last visit home, she had indulged herself with a new silk of heavy rich texture, which had been made up simply, and was exceedingly becoming.

On the present occasion, in order to show her respect to Judge Wilson and his friend, she resolved to wear this dress, together with her best set of laces, and her agate pin, a present from her mother on her first leaving home.

Perhaps, also, she devoted a little extra time to brushing and arranging the rich coils of hair around her shapely head. At any rate, one last glance in her small mirror, met a well satisfied expression from the face opposite. She smiled, as she said, gaily, "I wish mamma and Marion could see me, and pronounce their judgment."

With a quick change of thought, she turned towards the window, saying to herself, "How silly I am: I must be growing vain."

There was a knock at the door, and Mrs. Duxbury entered, playfully holding up her hands.

"Mark has come for you," she said. "I didn't know there was to be a party. I suppose the young ladies would tell you that you are gotten up regardless."

"I have never worn my new silk to Judge Wilson's," explained Emily, laughing, as she put on her hat. "And as he has an old gentleman there, I thought I would do him all the honor in my power."

"The dress is elegant simplicity," said Mrs. Duxbury. "I shall not say what I think of the wearer," imprinting, however, several kisses on the glowing cheeks.

"I hope, Mrs. Duxbury, Joseph will be able to come for me at ten."

"Yes, he shall go. Enjoy yourself all you can."

"How kind everybody is. I ought to be a very good girl," reflected Emily, as she was rapidly whirled over the road to Judge Wilson's.

Cecilia was on the watch for the carriage, and greeted her friend with even more than her usual cordiality.

"Come right up into my chamber, where I can look at you," she said, merrily. "Mrs. Wilson is busy at this moment, and the Judge—well, he is absorbed in discussing politics with his friend."

Emily took off her hat and laid it on the bed, blushing rosily as Cecilia gave her a long stare, taking in her whole appearance, from the glistening coils to the tiny tip of the neatly fitting boot.

"You are ab-so-lute-ly-per-fect," was her flattering encomium at last. "No, wait one moment. I brought in some flowers for my hair, and I saved this bud for you."

An exquisite blush rose, struggling to release itself from its covering of moss, was speedily tucked in among Emily's locks, and looked as contented as though it had grown there.

"Come, now we'll go to the dining room, and find Mrs. Wilson. She'll never forgive me for monopolizing you." She put her arm lovingly about Emily's waist, adding, "You're an innocent, unsuspecting little puss as I ever saw. I'm a good mind to—"

"A good mind to—what?" asked the young teacher, stopping short in descending the stairs.

"Oh, nothing but one of the Judge's jokes. I'll tell you, by-and-by."

Mrs. Wilson, on housewifely cares intent, was deep in the mysteries of pouring blanc-mange from the moulds, when she felt an arm stealing around her neck and a soft kiss on her cheek.

"Deary me!" she exclaimed, turning quickly. "I'm glad to see you, child. I didn't know till just now, that Mark had come back. Have you seen the Judge?"

"Not yet. I came to find you first."

"That's right, dear. Now I'll wipe my hands and go right to the parlor with you. I'm all through here."

But neither in the parlor nor in the library were the gentlemen to be found. Presently, however, the ladies heard the Judge's voice expatiating on the "Constitutional Bill," and followed on to the back porch, where, taking Emily's hand in hers, the kind old lady led her forward, saying to a gentleman who rose to meet her—

"I told you I had a new daughter. Here she is."

"Yes, yes, that's so!" repeated Judge Wilson, taking the young girl's hand after she had returned the visitor's polite bow, and patting it softly in his own peculiar kind manner. "Yes, yes, little girl, I hope you have come prepared to sing my favorite tune."

"I'll sing whatever you wish, sir, that is if I can. You know I'm in duty bound to so kind a papa."

Then the Judge, who to spare Emily's blushes, had refrained from kissing her in the presence of a stranger, found it impossible not to do so, in appreciation of her long speech. So he deliberately put one hand each side her face, and snatched a kiss from her lips, at the same time casting an exultant glance at his guest.

"My old friend and I are airing our ideas concerning the present administration," he went on with a slight emphases on the word "old." "You and Cecilia are quite welcome to take part in the discussion, if you wish."

"Thank you, sir, but I don't entertain my company by musty old politics," retorted Cecilia with a gay laugh. "Come, Emily, we'll have time before tea to practice that duet."

One piece after another followed in rapid succession, but still the "old" friends remained on the porch, until Cecilia grew really wrathy.

"I don't understand how the state of the finances, and all those bills they talk about can be so absorbing!" she exclaimed. "But I don't care, we're having a good time, and if they can't appreciate fine music, they are to be pitied. Now, Emily, sing something, will you?"

The sound of the tea-bell, at this moment, summoned all to the dining room.

Mrs. Wilson motioned Emily to a seat at her right hand, and the Hon. Frederic Lawrence to a chair beside her. But he either did not notice her movement, or chose to disregard it, for he deliberately walked to the other side of the table and seated himself opposite, leaving his sister to the chair by her friend.

When they rose from the table, Mr. Lawrence, finding himself near Miss Washburn, thanked her warmly for the music with which she had favored them, mentioning one or two of the pieces as special favorites.

Emily thanked him with modest dignity.

"But," added the gentleman, "I really care little comparatively for mere instrumental music. I had rather hear one simple ballad sung with real feeling, than all the sonatas and waltzes in the world."

Emily's fine eyes flashed with emotion as she replied, "I have heard my father make the same confession. He is a good judge of music, too, and often composes an accompaniment to his own singing."

As she spoke, every feature glowing with filial affection, Mr. Lawrence gazed at her in entire forgetfulness of his usual politeness.

"Come, come," said the Judge, tucking Emily's arm under his own, "I'm getting jealous hearing so much of that wonderful papa."

"I hope you'll know him sometime, sir. I'm very sure you would like him."

Then with a rosy blush as she perceived that the eyes of the Judge's "old" friend were still fixed gravely upon her, she went forward to the hall table where a bouquet of exquisite cut-flowers were standing, and selecting a purple verbena, added quickly to it a tiny rosebud and two leaves of geranium, found a piece of thread to tie them together, then returned and held them out, smilingly, to her kind friend.

"What is that? A peace offering. What am I expected to do with it?"

"It's a button-hole bouquet, sir."

"Oh, child, I'm too old for such fol-de-rals. Give it the member from Michigan." The Judge's eyes twinkled merrily as he said this.

But Emily insisted on his wearing it, and fastened it into his coat with her own hands.

As the evening wore on, Cecilia regarded her brother with astonishment. The conversation had been general and on many topics, Emily listening with apparent interest, answering the Judge's occasional questions with an intelligence which proved her to have thought much, but never intruded her opinion or forced herself into notice. This, Cecilia knew, would excite her brother's approbation, who, in fact, was hard to please as far as ladies were concerned. But he gave no evidence of being interested in her friend, except that when she spoke, he did not take his eyes from her face until she ceased.

After a time, Cecilia saw Emily steal a glance at her watch, and suddenly became aware that the evening was passing without music. Still, she was resolved not to be the one to invite her friend to sing. The Judge was heartily interested in a conversation with Mr. Lawrence on the internal resources of wealth in his adopted state, while Mrs. Wilson and Emily sat contentedly side by side, crocheting for a coming fair. Her impatience was just reaching a crisis when Judge Wilson started suddenly, exclaiming—

"Bless me, I quite forgot the treat we were to have. Come, Emily, child, give us a song."

"What shall I sing?" she asked, rising to comply with his request.

"Make your own selection, dear."

Instead of offering to help the young lady to a seat at the piano, as would have been only common politeness, Mr. Lawrence rose and walked to the farther end of the long parlor. While Cecilia, who was greatly chagrined, tried to supply his place. She had never seen him so awkward or to so little advantage as on the present occasion. She didn't understand it.

Emily turned over the music book until she came to Auld Robin Gray, when Cecilia stopped her, and whispered—

"Sing that." She knew this to be a favorite with her brother, but did not wish him to know it was her selection.

Emily ran her fingers over the keys in a dreamy way, repeating the prelude with some variations, before she could get herself into the spirit of the words. Then in a subdued tone, clear and rich, she commenced the tender confession—

"Young Jamie loved me well, and asked me for his bride,
But excepting a crown he had naething else beside."

As she went on, there was profound silence in the room. Mr. Lawrence took advantage of a symphony between the verses to approach softly toward the singer. Judge Wilson sat in his arm-chair, his head thrown back, and two big tears rolling down his cheeks.

Not a word was spoken when the last note died out, and Emily feeling slightly embarrassed at her position, was rising from her seat, when the Judge burst out—

"What an old fool I am!" Then wiping his tears, began to blow his nose with all his might.

"Don't get up," urged Cecilia, observing with secret pleasure that her brother was greatly moved. "Sing something lively this time."

"Sister, you mistake in asking her to sing again," remarked Mr. Lawrence, hastily placing his hand on his sister's arm. Then without another word, he returned to his seat.

Emily greatly confused at such unusual conduct, was much relieved to hear a ring at the door-bell.

"It is Joseph," she said, approaching Mrs. Wilson to say good-night.

While the Judge was thanking her for coming, and bidding her be a good girl till he saw her again, she overheard Cecilia urging her brother to dismiss Joseph, and walk to the school with her friend. She rolled her crocheting in her handkerchief, ran up stairs for her hat and shawl, and when she came down, found the gentleman, willing or unwilling, waiting at the door.

"Brother is going with you," said Cecilia. "I shall see you in the morning as usual."

But to the astonishment of sister and brother, Emily very civilly, but firmly declined his escort. Then when she saw that Cecilia looked grave, she said, laughingly—

"Joseph is a staunch friend, and I would not hurt his feelings for the world."