“My own! my very own!” he said once or twice to himself, with such a look of happiness in his manly face. Then he stooped to kiss me, as Maimie had done. “Mother, pray that she may never be my idol, and yet that I may love her better every day,” he said softly.
And I think that prayer has been answered.
Three years passed before Maimie became Jack’s wife. By that time he was getting on well enough to render the step prudent. A little house was taken near us, and furnished chiefly with the contents of our old home. Neither Jack nor Maimie would consent to spend any of the thousand pounds,—Aunt Briscoe’s legacy.
By that time Cress had been home again for several months. He had grown brown and healthy, and had shaken off his fancy for Maimie; so much so that he made no objection whatever to being Jack’s “best man.”
Seeing a little more of the world had done Cress good in many ways. Cherry and I found him now a pleasant companion in the house, instead of a trouble. He was far less “self-absorbed” than of old.
On the very eve of Maimie’s wedding, she had a letter from her stepfather. He had taken up farming in South Africa, and professed to be doing well. He wrote in his old affectionate style, and enclosed a present of five pounds, saying he hoped some day to come home and see her again.
Did he think he would get Maimie once more into his power? The thought occurred to my mind, but I put it from me. There was no need to trouble ourselves. Maimie, as Mrs. Jack Hazel, was safe from her stepfather. She wrote soon to thank him for his “wedding-gift,” and to tell him of her marriage. Since then we have heard no more of Churton.
THE END.