Christine: A Fife Fisher Girl

by Amelia E. Barr

Such a happy afternoon followed! The Domine was in a delightful mood, Jamie recited for the first time “How Horatio Kept the Bridge,” and Margot was as busy as her weak, old fingers would let her be. With the Domine’s approval, Christine showed her letter to Roberta, and they, too, held a little triumph 259 over the good, clever girl, for it was not vanity that induced her confidence, it was that desire for human sympathy, which even Divinity feels, or He would not ask it, and Himself prompt its offering.

Soon after five o’clock they had a cup of tea together, and Roberta’s cab was waiting, and the fortunate day was over. Roberta was sorry to go away. She said she had had one of the happiest days of her life. She left her own little silk crochet bag with Margot, and gave her gladly her pretty silver hook with its ivory handle, and the cotton she had with her. She said she would send hooks of different sizes, and the threads necessary for them, and also what easy patterns she could find.

She went away amid smiles and blessings, and the Domine and Jamie went with her. They would see her safely to her hotel, they said, but she would not part with them so early. She entreated them to dine and spend the evening with her. And so they did. And their talk was of Christine, of her love and patience, and her night-and-day care. Even her orderly house and personal neatness were duly praised.

Roberta left for her Glasgow home, early on the following morning, and arrived at Monteith Row a little wearied, but quite satisfied with the journey she had taken. What the result to herself would be, she could hardly imagine. But its uncertainty kept her restless. She had resolved to clean and prepare the house for winter, during her husband’s absence, but she could not do it. A woman needs a 260 stiff purpose in her heart, when she pulls her home to pieces. If anything is going to happen, it usually chooses such a time of discomfort and disorder.

She found it far more pleasant to select crochet hooks and cotton for Margot and herself. She sent the Domine a book that she knew would be acceptable, and to Jamie she sent a Rugby School pocket-knife, containing not only the knives, but the other little tools a boy finds so necessary. To Christine she sent a large, handsome portfolio, and such things as a person addicted to writing poetry requires. She could settle to nothing, for indeed she felt her position to be precarious. She knew that she could not live a day with Neil, unless he was able to account satisfactorily for his theft—she called it theft to herself—of the first ninety pounds.

Neil had promised to be home in a week, but it was two weeks ere he returned. He said business had detained him, and what can a woman say to “business”? It appears to cover, and even cancel, all other obligations. If there had been any tendency in Roberta’s heart to excuse, or even to forgive her husband, he killed the feeling by his continual excuses for delay. The lawyer who had accompanied him was home. What was Neil doing in London, when the principal in the case had returned?

At last she received particular instructions as to the train by which he would arrive. She took no notice of them, though it had been her custom to meet him. He was a little cross at this neglect, and more 261 so, when the sound of his peremptory ring at the door brought only a servant to open it. He did not ask after her, and she did not appear, so he gave his valise to the servant, with orders to take it into the dining room. “I suppose your mistress is there?” he asked. He was told she was there, and he added, “Inform her that I am in my room preparing for dinner, and order the cook to serve it at once.”

Roberta saw the valise brought in, and she made no inquiries concerning it. She saw the dinner brought on, and she seated herself in her place at the table, and drew the chair holding the valise almost to her side. Then she waited.

Neil entered the room immediately. She did not turn her face to the door when it opened. She said as if speaking to a servant, “Place the soup at the head of the table. Mr. Ruleson is home.”

When he took the head of the table, and so faced her, and could no longer be ignored, she said, “Is it really you, Neil? By what train did you arrive?”