Mrs. Fergusson had a marvellous attraction for her, and though her note was not a long or gushing one, it showed her that she was wanted.
She sat looking out in the busy street, with a light in her eyes and joy in her heart. She saw again the sweet old Scotch house, and the graceful, clever woman who presided over it. She pictured the evenings that Chris had described to her so well, and could hardly believe that it was her good fortune now to be the favoured guest. Perhaps with the anticipation of walks and talks with her old friend, the idea of a renewed and closer intimacy with her "fellow-traveller" intermingled.
"Oh!" she sighed at last in deep content, "I can hardly believe it is true!"
After a little, she roused herself from her daydreams and proceeded to pour out for herself a cup of tea. It was then she noticed her other letter, and she smiled as she recognised Charlie Oxton's bold calligraphy.
She opened it.
"MY DEAR COZ,—Your grandpater has had a slight seizure of some sort; we have been at sixes and sevens, and the whole household has gone to pot!"
"John is the only one who keeps his wits and his legs. The young maid who was always fighting Mary has decamped, Mary is ill in bed—influenza and temper have overcome her. Rawlings is down with rheumatics. I'm in and out, up and down, bossing the show, but it's beyond my powers to cook and nurse, and dust and sweep, and the governor is conscious enough to express his determination to have no nurse or strange woman inside his house."
"In our dire extremity, I thought of you, and asked the governor, if he'd like to see you. He cocked his eyebrows, pulled down his mouth, and grunted assent, which shows how very meek and mild and docile he has become! Will you take pity on us? My hay is just being cut, and my farm going to the dogs for want of my personal supervision. Wire reply."
"Yours in a fix,"
"CHARLIE."
Jean's face underwent several changes as she read this.
"It is cruel to come now!" was her first comment. And then raged a conflict in her soul.
"Why should I go to him?" she thought. "He cast me out, he made my life a misery to me, and he expects me to return to my bondage with a thankful, grateful spirit! Charlie seems to think nothing of my wishes and my feelings. Two helpless men they are, and their one desire is to get a woman to put things straight. Any woman could do it! Why should I victimise myself? Why should I give up the greatest pleasure that has come to me since I have been in London? If I don't go to Scotland now, I have a feeling I never shall. I know how many visitors Mrs. Fergusson has coming and going, she will forget all about me, she has so many interests, and I want to—oh, I do want to go! Why should both these letters come at once?"
She got up and paced her room.