“Oh! Marion Glamis, why did you stay away so long? Why did you not come home before Archie’s life was ruined?” And the girl would sigh and answer: “Is not my life ruined also? Could any one have imagined Archie Braelands would have an attack of insanity?” Then Sophy, feeling her impotence between the tongues of her two enemies, would rise and go away, more or less angrily or sadly, followed through the hall and half-way upstairs by the snickering, confidential laughter of their common ridicule.
At the latter end of June, Admiral Glamis proposed an expedition to Norway. They were to hire a yacht, select a merry party, and spend July and August sailing and fishing in the cool fiords of that picturesque land. Archie took charge of all the arrangements. He secured a yacht, and posted a notice in the Public House of Pittendurie for men to sail her. He had no doubt of any number of applications; for the work was light and pleasant, and much better paid than any fishing-job. But not a man presented himself, and not even when Archie sought out the best sailors and those accustomed to the cross seas between Scotland and Norway, could he induce any one to take charge of the yacht and man her. The Admiral’s astonishment at Archie’s lack of influence among his own neighbours and tenants was not very pleasant to bear, and Marion openly said:—
“They are making cause with your wife, Archie, against you. They imagine themselves very loyal and unselfish. Fools! a few extra sovereigns would be much better.”
“But why make cause for my wife against me, Marion?” asked Archie.
“You know best; ask Madame, she is my authority,” and she shrugged her shoulders and went laughing from his side.
Nothing in all his married life had so annoyed Archie as this dour displeasure of men who had always before been glad to serve him. Madame was indignant, sorrowful, anxious, everything else that could further irritate her angry son; and poor Sophy might well have prayed in those days “deliver me from my friends!” But at length the yacht was ready for sea, and Archie ran upstairs in the middle of one hot afternoon to bid his wife “goodbye!”
She was resting on her bed, and he never forgot the eager, wistful, longing look of the wasted white face on the white pillow. He told her to take care of herself for his sake. He told her not to let any one worry or annoy her. He kissed her tenderly, and then, after he had closed the door, he came back and kissed her again; and there were days coming in which it was some comfort to him to remember this trifling kindness.
“You will not forget me, Archie?” she asked sadly.
“I will not, sweetheart,” he answered.
“You will write me a letter when you can, dear?”