CHAPTER VII.
MAZOOKU’S FAREWELL
Dorothy and Ernest got back to Dum’s Ness just in time to dress for dinner, for since Ernest and Jeremy had come back, Dorothy, whose will in that house was law, had instituted late dinner. The dinner passed over as usual, Dorothy sitting between Ernest and her grandfather, and attending to the wants of those two unfortunates, both of whom would have found it rather difficult to get through their meal without her gentle, unobtrusive help. But when dinner was over and the cloth removed, and Grice had placed the wine upon the table and withdrawn, an unusual thing happened.
Ernest asked Dorothy to fill his glass with port, and when she had done so he said:
“Uncle and Jeremy, I am going to ask you to drink a health.”
The old man looked up sharply. “What is it, Ernest, my boy?”
As for Dorothy, she blushed a rosy red, guessing what was coming, and not knowing whether to be pleased or angry.
“It is this, uncle—it is the health of my future wife, Dorothy.”
Then came a silence of astonishment. Mr. Cardus broke it:
“Years ago, Ernest, my dear nephew, I told you that I wished this to come to pass; but other things happened to thwart my plans, and I never expected to see it. Now in God’s good time it has come, and I drink the health with all my heart. My children, I know that I am a strange man, and my life has been devoted to a single end, which is now drawing near its final development; but I have found time in it to learn to love you both. Dorothy, my daughter, I drink your health. May the happiness that was denied to your mother fall upon your head, her share and your share too! Ernest, you have passed through many troubles, and have been preserved almost miraculously to see this day. In Dorothy you will find a reward for everything, for she is a good woman. Perhaps I shall never live to see your happiness and the children of your happiness—I do not think I shall; but may the solemn blessing I give you now rest upon your dear heads! God bless you both, my children. All peace go with you, Dorothy and Ernest!”
“Amen!” said Jeremy, in a loud voice, and with a vague idea that he was in church. Then he got up and shook Ernest’s hand so hard in his fearful grip that the latter was constrained to holloa out, and lifted Dolly out of her chair like a plaything, and kissed her boisterously, knocking the orchid-bloom she wore out of her hair in the process. Then they all sat down again and beamed at one another and drank port-wine—at least the men did—and were inanely happy.