“Mother—Heather—what are you afraid of?” he asked.
“I am afraid of nothing except the indefinite,” she answered, through her tears. “It is a new country to me this life on which you are entering. Were I going to explore it myself, probably it would not seem so terrible. Promise, Alick.”
“I promise,” he answered; and then their talk flowed on to calmer ground—to such commonplace affairs as, “where he should lodge, what amount of worldly belongings he should take with him, what edibles it would be advisable for Heather to send for him to his London home.”
In all these minor matters Mrs. Dudley was intensely interested; not that the other subjects on which she had touched lay farther from her heart, but only that they seemed less within her province than such homely affairs as seeing that his linen was in proper order, that he had flannels for the winter, and an abundant supply of towels and soap; to say nothing of more animal luxuries, in the shape of fresh butter, preserves, poultry, and eggs.
It was arranged how all these necessaries, which Mrs. Piggott believed were to be had genuine nowhere out of Hertfordshire, could be forwarded periodically to London; and then Heather set to work on Alick’s wardrobe—condemning socks, examining shirts, turning over collars, and so forth.
“Alick had better take everything new with him,” she said to Agnes, “and leave these for Cuthbert;” and the poor soul sighed.
Perhaps she felt intuitively Alick would never require her again to furnish him with an outfit—that from the day his foot passed forth from Berrie Down he would never need hosen nor shirt from her more.
The great change was at hand, such as arrives to the mother when her darling marries a husband able to provide her with her heart’s desire, and more than her heart’s desire, if such a thing were possible; to the sister, whose brother’s wife takes from that day forth to all eternity charge of the mending, airing and making of an idol’s linen, and it was natural at such an hour Heather should desire “her boy’s” wardrobe to be unexceptionable, that she should wish the very stitches in his collars, the very marking of his clothes, to remind him of the “far-away home,” where she would never cease praying he might be kept from all the temptations of the world, the flesh, and the devil.
Dear Heather; oh! dear, dear Heather! I know cleverer women do greater things than your imagination ever compassed—that they write books and paint pictures, that they compose music and preach sermons, that they scribble reviews and manage warehouses, that they are owners of various business establishments in the City, and serve writs to unsuspecting debtors; and yet I doubt if all these mementoes of women’s work and women’s talents would rest so long in the mind as one sweet word from you!
All this time she had full leisure to devote to Alick, for Arthur was away, staying at no other place than Copt Hall, where, through the instrumentality of Miss Alithea Hope, both he and Heather had been invited to spend a week.