Roland Graeme: Knight. A Novel of Our Time

by Agnes Maule Machar

Then, in addition to all his other work, Roland had his editorials for The Brotherhood to write, as well as all the rest of its editorial management on his hands; and though it was only a small weekly sheet, this work often kept his lamp burning till far into the night. With all these things on his mind, it is no wonder if he began sometimes to feel the pressure—if his color was somewhat less fresh and his face more lined and worn than on his first arrival in Minton. Both Sandy Dunlop and his friend Dick Burnet sometimes warned him that he was "burning the candle at both ends," but his own enthusiasm was like a spirited steed that will carry its rider on, at full gallop, almost in spite of himself.

As for The Brotherhood, it could not be called a very brilliant success, financially at least. This, however, had not been expected by any one concerned, and was a matter of least concern to Sandy Dunlop, who supplied most of the funds, with a grim satisfaction in feeling that he was thereby doing a little toward "the keeping in order" of bland autocrats like Mr. Pomeroy, for whom the rugged Scotchman had little love. Dick Burnet helped his friend materially, by printing the paper as economically as possible, at the office of the Minerva; though this was, for obvious reasons, kept very quiet. The new paper found, of course, its largest circulation among the workingmen, being a sort of recognized "Organ" in their interests; and a good many business men, who wanted their patronage, used it as an advertising medium, its principal source of profit. But, of the people Roland most desired to reach, few read it, or cared to do so. Burnet, however, went as far as he thought he safely could, in reprinting portions of Roland's best articles on general subjects, as well as some of his selections; and the very fact of the existence of such a paper with such a title and such principles, was not without its effect in the community. Managers became somewhat more pliant; concessions were somewhat more readily gained; negligence of precautions was less common, now that the employers knew, at least, that there was "a chiel amang them, takin' notes," though it need scarcely be said that the "note-taking" individual was not particularly agreeable to the subjects of his notes. For this, however, Roland cared little. His own affairs and the estimation in which he was held, did not, happily, weigh heavily on his mind. He had too many other people to think about, and, as yet, he had no engrossing personal interests; moreover, he could now always find a haven of rest and refreshment in Mr. Alden's pleasant home. The sight of Grace, indeed, always refreshed him, in itself, as did a fine poem or picture. He was content simply to sit and watch her acting "little mother" to the other children, while he talked with Mr. Alden, and his boyish friend, Frank. Mr. Alden smiled a little to himself, as he began to notice the magnetic attraction that drew Roland's eyes constantly in the direction of Grace's girlish figure. It reminded him of his own young days; and he knew that Roland was as romantic as any young troubadour. He, however, had too much real faith to be a fussy or fidgety man, and he could see that Grace was as unconscious of Roland's silent devotion as any prudent father could desire. He knew that, in some things, she was even younger than her years, owing, in part, to her quiet and healthy up-bringing; and he was not afraid of a premature love affair. Nor, indeed, was Roland's the kind of devotion that easily finds expression in "love-making"—though among his papers there were scattered various fragments of verse which sometimes came to him, even in his busy life, and which owed their inspiration to Grace Alden. He would have felt it a desecration of the reverent emotion with which he regarded her, to say a word which would have broken or disturbed the childlike unconsciousness, the calm, even current of her life. Grace was used to having people love her. She could not have fancied what it would be to live without what was to her the very breath of life, but it never occurred to her to think of it, or about herself in connection with it.

So Mr. Alden reassured the slight uneasiness of his wife, and took no notice; but continued to give Roland the benefit of his kindly sympathy and friendly counsel. He was, indeed, with the exception of Sandy Dunlop, the only man Roland knew in Minton to whom he could talk with perfect freedom and confidence in his honest impartiality. And, though Mr. Alden never forced on his young friend his own strong religious convictions, the latter often felt them; and, without his knowing it, they helped him to keep up heart and hope even in his discouragements, by the recognition of the "Divinity that shapes the ends" of men to other issues than they themselves have designed. Roland's faith in this respect had never quite given way; and the influence of Mr. Alden's strong and happy realization of it very much helped his own.

Roland was not likely, however, to forget his promise of calling to see Miss Blanchard and the little girl whom he had first befriended. Early in the new year, he called, late one snowy afternoon, when he thought he would be pretty sure of finding Miss Blanchard at home. She was alone in the drawing-room, reading by the window. She expressed great pleasure at seeing him again, and sent at once for the three children; having noticed Roland's predilection for the society of the little Aldens. Eddie, who had by no means forgotten him, rushed at him with a familiar "Hallo!" which rather shocked Nora's ideas of propriety. But Roland responded in the same fashion, and Eddie and he were soon in a merry flow of talk, while Daisy, on his knee, was trying to introduce "Tatters" and give a catalogue of his accomplishments. Cecilia, shy and grave as usual, recognized Roland with evident pleasure, and soon seemed so much at home with him, that she willingly went, at his suggestion, to get her accordion and play him a tune on it.

"She is really quite useful, now," said Miss Blanchard, in Cecilia's absence. "She has great influence over these two, who think her the most wonderful musician that ever was."

"The little Aldens seemed greatly taken with her, too," said Roland, laughing. "Mrs. Alden says she has made quite a conquest of Frank."

"Well, Grace has certainly made a conquest of her," replied Nora; "the child has taken the greatest fancy to her, and I don't wonder. She is such a lovely girl, isn't she, Mr. Graeme?" and as she spoke she looked up, a half mischievous smile hovering about her lips and in her eyes.

"She is, indeed!" replied Roland, with straightforward warmth. He never had any self-conscious impulse to conceal his admiration for Grace. But Cecilia had returned with her accordion, and surprised him a good deal by her correct rendering of a number of airs which she had picked up entirely by ear.

"Why, you are going to be a modern St. Cecilia!" he said. "Do you know who she was?" he added.

"Yes," said the child, smiling, and looking up at Miss Blanchard comprehendingly.