Now, a promise is a promise. I, myself, would keep one, at all costs, that involved no wrong to any other person. He is of the same mind. Then something must have happened.
For a moment I had been angry, though scarcely with him; for wherever he was he would be doing his duty. Yet, why should he be always doing his duty to everyone, except me? Had I no right? I, to whom even Lisa, who knew nothing, called him my friend?
Yes, mine. Of a sudden I seemed to feel all that the word meant, and to take all the burthen of it. It quieted me.
I went downstairs. There were the usual two lines of dinner-table faces—the usual murmur of dinner-table talk; but all was dim and uncertain, like a picture, or the sound of people chattering very far off. Colin beside me, kept talking about how well I looked in my new gown—how he would like to see me dressed as fine as a queen—and how he hoped we should spend many a Christmas as merry as this—till something seemed tempting me to bid him hold his tongue—myself to start up and scream.
At dessert, the butler brought a large letter to Sir William. It was a telegraph message—I recognized the look of the things we had several during papa's illness. Easy to sit still now. I seemed to know quite well what was coming, but the only clear thought was “mine—mine.”
Sir William read, folded up the message, and passed it on to Augustus, then rose.
“Friends, fill your glasses. I have just had good news; not unexpected, but still good news. Ladies and gentlemen, I have the honour to give you the health of my nephew, Francis Charteris, Esquire, Governor-elect of ——————.”
In the cheering, confusion, and congratulation that followed, Lisa passed the telegram to me, and I saw it was from “Max Urquhart, London.”
As soon as we got into a corner by ourselves, my sister burst out with the whole mystery.
“Thank goodness, it's over; I never kept a secret before, and Augustus was so frightened lest I should tell—and then what would Doctor Urquhart have said? It's Doctor Urquhart's planning, and he was to have brought the good news to-day; and I'm very sorry I abused him, for he has been working like a horse for Fancis's interest, and—did you ever see a young fellow take a piece of good fortune so coolly—a lovely West Indian Island, with Government house, and salary large enough to make Penelope a most magnificent governor's wife—yet he is not a bit thankful for it—I declare I am ashamed of Francis Charteris.”