There were several guests still in the house, when a week had passed. Mr Dawson and his sister were sitting one afternoon on the terrace, when Captain Harefield rode up, and in a little he had joined Miss Dawson in the garden. The father watched them as they came and went among the trees.
“Jean has the ba’ at her foot this time, I’m thinking,” said he. “Weel, weel! It it pleases her, it will please me.”
“She’ll never please ye in that way. Dinna think it.”
“I’m no’ so sure that it would please me—no’ so sure as I was this time last year. But I think she might be satisfied.”
“She’ll need a stronger hand to guide her.”
“She has strength and sense to guide him, and that might do as well.”
“It wouldna be for her happiness were she to be persuaded to such a marriage,” said Miss Jean gravely.
“Persuaded! No, that is not likely. But, Jean, I like the lad, though he is no’ a Solomon, I confess, and he has a high place in the world—or he will ha’e ane—and Jean would do him credit.”
“High place or no’, he is no’ her equal in any important sense. If she cared for him, she might guide him and put up with him, as many another woman has to do. As to persuading her—no one could do that; but if she thought your heart was set on it, she might persuade herself to her ain unhappiness.”
“I’se never persuade her. And I would ha’e ill sparin’ her. But it would be a fine position, and she would keep it we’ll.”