“Saved, is he! And George did it? But Tam has hardly been tried yet.”
“Oh! yes. He is surely to be trusted now. Three whole years since he has touched a glass. Yes, nearly three years Annie told me once—and I think she wouldna be vexed at my telling you, because—George belongs to you,” said Marion, turning a soft bright glance on Mr Dawson. She rose in her eagerness, and stood before them, and with softened voice and changing colour told the story of one dark night on board the “John Seaton,” when some kind word of George’s had touched a sore spot in poor Tam Saugster’s remorseful heart, and had opened his lips to utter all his shame and sorrow over a life worse than wasted. The very first thought of hope that had come to Tam since Annie forsook him, came when George laughed at him for saying that his life was nearly over. He was but a lad yet, and his life was before him, and the way was to let the past be past, and begin again with better help than he had asked for yet. And Tam was not ashamed to say that his tears had fallen fast into the sea as he listened, and if he had been his own brother, George could not have been more patient with him, or have done more for him than he had done. “And I think,” added Marion, turning her shining eyes on the old man, “that George must be even happier than his friend.”
She paused suddenly, turning a startled look to Miss Jean, who had gently touched her hand. Jean was looking at her father with a smile upon her lips, but he was looking away to the sea.
“Shouldna I have said it? Was it wrong? Tell me what you are thinking about, Miss Jean,” said Marion in dismay.
“I’m thinking the wind has been making free with your hair, my lassie, and it is near tea-time.”
Jean kissed her laughing.
“Come with me and put your hair in order, as auntie says. No, never mind. There is nothing to look grave about. It was only that my aunt was surprised to hear any body say so many words to my father, and about George too. Oh! yes, he liked it, you may be sure. I’m glad that he heard it anyway.”
“But I’m afraid that Miss Jean must have thought me—forward,” said Marion, hesitating over the hateful word.
“Nonsense, you are not a child any longer. And she was as well pleased as I am that my father should hear it all.”
It was Mr Dawson who broke the silence that fell on them when the girls went away.