Chapter Forty.
Graeme awoke in the morning to wonder at all the doubts and anxieties that had filled her mind in the darkness; for she was aroused by baby kisses on her lips, and opened her eyes to see her sister Rose, with her nephew in her arms, and her face as bright as the May morning, smiling down upon her. Rose disappointed and sad! Rose hiding in her heart hopes that were never to be realised! She listened to her voice, ringing through the house, like the voice of the morning lark, and wondered at her own folly. She laughed, as Rose babbled to the child in the wonderful baby language in which she so excelled; but tears of thankfulness rose to her eyes as she remembered the fears of the night, and set them face to face with the joy of the morning.
“I could not have borne it,” she said to herself. “I am afraid I never could have borne to see my darling drooping, as she must have done. I am content with my own lot. I think I would not care to change anything the years have brought to me. But Rosie—. Ah! well, I might have known! I know I ought to trust for Rosie, too, even if trouble were to come. But oh! I am very glad and thankful for her sake.”
She was late in the breakfast-room, and she found Harry there.
“‘The early bird,’ you know, Graeme,” said he. “I have been telling Rosie what a scolding you were giving me last night on our way home.”
“But he won’t tell me what it was all about,” said Rose.
“I cannot. I don’t know myself. I have an idea that you had something to do with it, Rosie. But I can give no detailed account of the circumstances, as the newspapers say.”
“It is not absolutely necessary that you should,” said Graeme, smiling.
“I hope you are in a much better humour this morning, Graeme.”